tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33944768186372980702024-02-07T20:51:53.606-06:00Holland's Comet"Well, I feel like pickin' a fight...with anybody who claims they're right...all the preacher men, the politicians, all the critics and the things they write..."--Bob Walkenhorst, The Rainmakers "Reckoning Day" (1989)Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.comBlogger706125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-23855353277399898692015-07-22T18:40:00.002-06:002015-07-23T07:34:13.297-06:00No, it's NOT o-bee kay-bee...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f7j8R04oUX17KZxTQ7jve1guUt93o51vgc5_F_bHiPogd-CW6is-fT9MgaHxnsN5g7Ptx5fjBerNPE6NSsQG6G2vPE3B4dUiB6_9sk1da2W69qVaPVyYY1D9dBI3c1IP4742JVMdRwI/s1600/rs_600x600-141118154922-600-bill-cosby-its-true.ls.111814_copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6f7j8R04oUX17KZxTQ7jve1guUt93o51vgc5_F_bHiPogd-CW6is-fT9MgaHxnsN5g7Ptx5fjBerNPE6NSsQG6G2vPE3B4dUiB6_9sk1da2W69qVaPVyYY1D9dBI3c1IP4742JVMdRwI/s320/rs_600x600-141118154922-600-bill-cosby-its-true.ls.111814_copy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Dear MISTER Cosby,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When Michael Jackson died six years ago, I didn’t really mourn over his passing much. You know why? Because to me, MJ was already dead. The Michael Jackson whom I knew and enjoyed—that good-looking black guy that I grew up listening to on AM radio when I was a kid who could sing and dance his ass off—he’d been dead to me for almost 20 years. Long about 1990 or so, Michael the suave and talented performer was replaced by this creepy fey-looking pale-skinned crotch-grabbing hypochondriac white zombie clone named Jacko whose nose kept falling off and who preyed upon unsuspecting little boys and got involved in sham marriages and kept his (alleged) offspring’s faces shrouded with scarves and nearly dropped one of them off a balcony and danced around on limos in front of district courts and such.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />As one of your famed comedy routines once went, MISTER Cosby: “I told you that story to tell you this one...” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />And if I may borrow from another routine, as your wife once said to you in your bit about belching nasty gas, “You’re dead! You passed away a long time ago, but somehow you’re still upright!” More on your moron wife in a bit, but the Bill Cosby that I knew and loved and grew up with is now deceased—he’s actually been dead and gone to me just about as long as Michael Jackson has. That lovable rubber-faced father-figure who was such a brilliant comedic storyteller and brought to life such characters as Fat Albert, Old Weird Harold and your brother Russell and lampooned trips to the dentist, chocolate cake for breakfast and natural childbirth, among other things—he’s as dead as Mel Gibson’s movie career and has been replaced by this scruffy, unshaven moralizing perverted philanderer clone in dark sunglasses named MISTER Cosby. That’s what you’re called now, right—MISTER Cosby? No more just plain “Bill” or “Cos” for you, huh? At least now I know why you had the cojones to be listed in the closing credits of “The Cosby Show” as “Dr. William H. Cosby, Jr., Ed. D.”—you not only played a doctor on TV, but you <i>played doctor </i>with all those women, too, didn’t you? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />[NOTE: I was never impressed by that “esteemed” designation anyway because a doctorate degree in education has all the value of a DEVO hat—sort of on a par with my BA in Communications Studies, but I digress.]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Good gravy, dude—I had nearly all those ‘60s/’70s Bill Cosby records memorized verbatim, and even had the temerity to perform your “Noah & The Lord” bit with a buddy of mine in 7th grade speech class—and fucking nailed it, too! “Fat Albert & The Cosby Kids” was a Saturday morning staple for me, as well--it was a clever show that got its point across without being preachy or losing its cool, and I’d like to think I’m a slightly better person for having watched it. “The Cosby Show” was pretty damn funny too—for the first couple seasons, that is, before you got all uppity, preachy and righteous with the whole “black consciousness” thing by featuring twin babies named Nelson and Winnie and had this never-ending parade of elderly jazz musicians posing as Dr. Huxtable’s relations, along with other trite gambits. And how come the show never had any white people on it? Other than that dumb chubby white kid that never uttered a word (Rudy’s buddy), you gonna tell me there were no other Caucasians in that upper-crust neighborhood the Huxtables lived in? Uh-huh…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />[ANOTHER NOTE: Something ironical about the “Noah” thing: If I were in 7th grade today and attempted the same material in class, the school probably wouldn’t allow it because of all the religious connotations—pretty damn ironic considering I was already an atheist even then, yet willingly wanted to perform said skit anyhow.]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Anyway, I’ve decided that your comedy material was just too damn funny and all those fond memories are just too good to ever disown, therefore I’m not burning all my Cosby records and CDs in effigy (not my style, anyway), but instead, my internal mortician, Dr. Goodbury, has officially declared the original Bill Cosby dead, MISTER Cosby. This is the only way I can think of to reconcile all those memories and not associate them with the pathetic (and unrepentant) lying sack-of-shit sexual predator you’ve apparently devolved into.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />[YET ANOTHER NOTE: I chose that album cover photo intentionally for this piece, for obvious reasons.]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Where in the fuck did you go astray, buddy? I honestly tried to give you the benefit of the doubt as long as I could all these years until the allegations against you started accumulating because I truly didn’t want to believe it. I also brushed off all the stories about you merely cheating on your wife back in the ‘90s (without drugging anyone). While I certainly don’t condone that sort of behavior, it’s still par for the course in Hollywood, and you sure weren’t the first (or last) to do so, although it definitely makes all your moralizing about family values and such ring awfully hollow now. Who the hell are you to be telling all these homeys out there to pull their damn pants up when you don’t seem to be able to keep your own up? And who were you to ever criticize the likes of Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy for the lifestyles they led or for using profanity in their stage acts? Neither of those guys were/are angels, but at least neither of them ever (to my knowledge) resorted to the sort of low-life mongrel behavior like you’ve engaged in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />And what does it say about you that you have to get some poor woman fucked-up out of her mind just to fuck you? Is it because you’re hung like a Chihuahua and don’t want them to notice? Never mind—I don’t want to know. What I do know is you’re just a dirty old turd who should be rotting in prison somewhere with the likes of Jerry Sandusky. Furthermore, asshole losers like you are just another reason why women don’t trust single guys like me, even though my intentions are strictly on the up-and-up. I can’t say I blame them, either, thanks to excrement like you…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /><i>“You don't just meet Camille Cosby—you experience her. She exudes the kind of splendor attendant with royalty. Even hearing her name—Dr. Camille Olivia Hanks Cosby—makes you think, I want to be like that.”</i>—Oprah Winfrey</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Speaking of women, your wife is a brainwashed (or brain-dead) idiot for continuing to support you—and so is Oprah for making a statement like that, too. Camille should’ve kicked your wayward lyin’ ass to the curb decades ago, but I guess she just can’t bear to part with all the bling she’s become accustomed to by way of being Mrs. Bill Cosby, huh? And then she sits there saying these women WANTED the drugs you provided them, so that made it consensual. Riiiiight. Even if what she says is true, that still doesn’t excuse YOUR behavior whatsoever!! I can’t even imagine how embarrassing this all must be for your four daughters. In spite of it all, by the way, I’m still sorry you lost your son—I felt like I knew him, in a way. Then again, I felt like I knew you, too, but I suppose not...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Lucky for Ennis, he’s not around to witness your colossal fall from grace, MISTER Cosby, because you will now go down as the Joe Paterno of stand-up comedy and television. While Paterno wasn’t actually the perp in his situation, he was an enabler that allowed unspeakable things to happen even though he was totally aware of them, and just like you, MISTER Cosby, he was so arrogant that he thought he was untouchable. Guess again, asshole. As my man Lemmy from Motorhead sings, “Just ‘Cos (pun intended) you got the power, that don’t mean you got the right.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />In closing, let me just quote your brother Russell from the cartoon show, “You’re like school on a Saturday—NO CLASS!” Rot in hell—you GUNKY!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />Sincerely,<br />Your ex-fan Brian</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-26967757318211669652013-08-22T19:16:00.004-06:002013-08-22T19:33:33.844-06:00Concert #117<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>The Rainmakers/Nace Brothers</strong> (Friday, August 16, 2013—Grinders) <span style="font-size: x-small;">Ticket price: Free</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosZu_EdN6LRK0kT-xO_VCaGKwewUfsuHNvk008RzwZI0p7xV6_mZjSwSARRqyOp4vltyN1ToqpmhMgux5RTuRtEBbjD00ZiAWnHCfQOOmPqNJX4CeG2I6k73CgqS0CXWdrhDR__J7b04/s1600/20514_10202031582297659_1095187745_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosZu_EdN6LRK0kT-xO_VCaGKwewUfsuHNvk008RzwZI0p7xV6_mZjSwSARRqyOp4vltyN1ToqpmhMgux5RTuRtEBbjD00ZiAWnHCfQOOmPqNJX4CeG2I6k73CgqS0CXWdrhDR__J7b04/s320/20514_10202031582297659_1095187745_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For the 4th time in two years (and my 7th time, overall), my friends and I went to see Kansas City’s own Rainmakers perform in concert. You’d think we’d be getting a bit burned-out on them, but you can’t beat free, and as usual, the boys did not disappoint. If anything, they exceeded expectations this time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Outdoor concerts in mid-August in Kansas City usually automatically come with London Broil temperatures, but not on this night. We couldn’t have dreamed of more perfect weather this time of year—mid-70s at showtime, no wind, no humidity and a waxing gibbous moon hovering overhead. This was my first visit to Grinders, a place I’d never even heard of until last week, but I was fairly impressed. It certainly was a MAJOR upgrade over Knuckleheads, where two of our previous R-makers shows were staged. Grinders is open and spacious and instead of an old loading dock, their stage was actually a first-class stage, and it looked to be almost half the size of the stage at Sandstone Amphitheater (or whatever it’s called now). The Port-A-Pottys were actually an upgrade over the closets they expect you to piss in at Knuckleheads and they had several libation stations scattered about, so the beer lines were quite short all night (although I abstained) even when the place filled up. Grinders even allows you to bring your own lawn chairs in if you like. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My only issues with Grinders were the "No cameras" policy (which meant I had to take my digital camera back to my car first—never mind that people were snapping pics right and left with their camera phones, like whoever took the pic I've included here) and the fact that they allowed kids in the place. And I'm talking <em>little</em> kids, too. For the better part of an hour, I watched these two nandofuck parents in front of us allow their three no-attention-span little boys (the oldest of whom couldn’t have been more than 8 years old) to run around loose and futz around wrestling with each other (and with Mom and Dad) and just generally be a nuisance. This show as free—why couldn’t these dumbasses splurge for a babysitter or dump the kids off on Grandma for the night so they could actually enjoy the concert? And did they really expect those little shits to sit and watch the show? I felt like that chick in <em>Showgirls</em> who uttered, "Would somebody get these fucking kids out of here!!!" Come on folks, this is a Rock concert in an outdoor bar/nightclub with people getting drunk, not daycare at Romper Room. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Okay, enough ranting. The Nace Brothers hit the stage just around sundown and played for roughly 45 minutes or so. A four-piece KC outfit just like the Rainmakers (and two of them actually are male siblings named Nace), they’ve been around over 30 years and have released several CDs during that times, but I knew nothing about them. They weren’t bad, though—sort of an edgy Gin Blossoms with a little bluesy Jeff Healey-style blues mixed in. They played all original material too, and I noticed right away how crystal-clear the sound was at the venue because I could understand each and every word they sang and the between-song patter as well. The Bros. didn’t necessarily blow me away, but they didn’t suck, either, and were not a bad opening act at all. We watched them perform from near the top of the hill, but for the main attraction I was more than happy to relocate somewhere else away from the Karate Kids, so we ambled down to the standing room area down front, and before I even knew what hit me, we were suddenly right in the front rowwwww by the barricade, just to the right of guitarist Jeff Porter’s microphone at stage left. Now I REALLY wanted to use my fucking camera, dammit! I was also shocked at how good the sound still was even right down front with the speakers just a few feet away from us. It was plenty loud, yes, but not blowing my brains out like the shrieky headache-inducing sound mix Styx and Speedwagon employed at Starlight back in May—and we were way up in the back of the venue at that show! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Rainmakers hit the stage around 9:30 with leader/guitarist Bob "White Shoes" Walkenhorst, "Shoeless" Jeff Porter on lead guitar (apparently channeling the late Ronnie Van Zant by performing barefoot), bassist Rich Ruth sporting a scruffy beard and Daniel Boone hat with raccoon tail (he would’ve fit right in with Hayseed Dixie!), and drummer Pat Tomek in plain black t-shirt. They fired off three straight songs from their second album <em>Tornado</em>, "One More Summer", "Snakedance" and "Other Side Of The World", which gave me hope I might finally hear them play a personal favorite from it, "Tornado Of Love", but they never got to it—work on it, will ya? Actually, all of their albums got plenty of spins over the next 2.5 hours, with the once again curious exception of 1997’s <em>Skin</em>, which they didn’t touch for the fourth straight time I’ve seen them play live since 2011—could it be <em>Skin</em> has a rash?!? For once, I wasn’t in (or on my way back from) the toilet when they played another personal favorite, "Reckoning Day" (which features the credo of this here blog: "Well, I feel like pickin’ a fight, with anybody who claims they’re right…"), from their underrated 3rd album <em>The Good News And The Bad News</em>. The Rainmakers’ most recent release, 2011’s <em>25 On</em>, was visited several times on the night, including "Like Dogs", "Missouri Girl", "My Own Bed", "Given Time" (a track which is really growing on me) and my favorite from the album, "Kansas City Times", all about Bob’s old paper delivery route back in the ‘60s in rural north central Missouri. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The band seemed in great spirits as they reeled off song after song, and Walkenhorst remarked about what an absolutely splendid night it turned out to be, thanks to Mother Nature. More high points ensued, like "Wages Of Sin", "Government Cheese", "Width Of A Line", and especially "Rockin’ At The T-Dance", which took on added significance with "the Hyatt House" and its "big dance floor" looming just five blocks south of the venue—you can still see the ghosts from 32 years ago, too. Apparently the band’s plan was to play just about everything they knew, but unfortunately the venue turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of Midnight and they were up against a tight curfew. With the clock ticking, they brought the Nace Brothers back on-stage for a brief tribute to Elvis on the 36th anniversary of his passing and performed "Burning Love", followed by Jerry Lee Lewis’ "Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On." They had planned to do more with the Nace Bros., but only had time for one more song, and to my surprise (and delight) it was the Rainmakers classic "Big Fat Blonde" instead of their signature song "Let My People Go-Go". This is akin to Kiss not playing "Rock And Roll All Nite" or Springsteen not doing "Born To Run". I wonder if this was the first Rainmakers gig at which "Go-Go" was ever omitted. In any case, it was a most outstanding show, 34 songs in 2.5 hours—not too shabby for free! They could’ve charged 20 bucks or more and I still wouldn’t have felt cheated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One more rant: I would’ve enjoyed our front row spot a whole lot more but for the stupid and inconsiderate drunk fucks who inhabited the area down front. This one palooka next to me was totally wasted from the moment the Rainmakers hit the stage, and he kept bumping into everyone, he hollered crude homosexual remarks at Jeff Porter saying he wanted to fuck him, and he kept climbing on the barricade flailing his arms around and just generally made an ass out of himself. I don’t think he even knew who The Rainmakers were to begin with. I hope to hell he woke up Saturday with a gi-normous hangover in the morning. Fortunately, he went away (or was hauled away) after about 30 minutes. No sooner than we got rid of him did this gaggle of gabby Kardashian-like women show up right behind us and they would not shut up the rest of the show. They were almost louder than the band at times. My friends had to leave early because of next-day work obligations, and I finally gave up my front row spot because I was sick of listening to these bitches yammering away. Nothing wrong with getting drunk and having a good time at a concert—I’ve done it myself a time or two—but there’s such a thing as common courtesy, and being royally-ripped is no excuse for that to cease. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I made my way back up the hill and took in the rest of the show from a distance, I was quite amused at this joker who was literally falling-down drunk trying to get to the latrine. I sincerely hope he wasn’t going to get behind the wheel anytime soon—he couldn’t even drive a golf ball!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>SET LIST:</strong> <em>One More Summer/Snakedance/The Other Side Of The World/Downstream/Turpentine/Battle Of The Roses/The One That Got Away/Missouri Girl/Width Of A Line/Long Gone Long/The Wages Of Sin/My Own Bed/Half Past Kissin' Time/Reckoning Day/These Hills/Another Guitar/Given Time/Half A Horse Apiece/Small Circles/Lakeview Man/Like Dogs/Shiny Shiny/Nobody Knows/Kansas City Times/Rockin' At The T-Dance/Government Cheese/Spend It On Love/You Remind Me Of Someone/Information/Drinkin' On The Job/Hoo-De-Hoo/Burning Love (w/Nace Bros.)/Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On (w/Nace Bros.)/Big Fat Blonde</em></span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-17095829627633380562013-08-01T18:25:00.002-06:002013-08-01T18:34:15.973-06:00Travelblog--Omaha<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Now that I’ve had my newly-acquired vehicle almost
two months, I’ve been wanting to see how it performed on an extended highway
stretch, and since we had some unexpectedly cool weather last weekend, I
decided to take a spur-of-the-moment road trip to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Omaha</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve been there a few times before, but they’ve added some new things
since my last visit, and I also decided to venture north of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Omaha</st1:place></st1:city> on I-29 for the first time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing earth-shattering, but a fun and cheap
little getaway weekend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></em></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWBFWUAVuHURxUjVzbC7HmRwdrUKJrTznxZEoKWKaxjj_bEO872nGfRkG4VoBSF1CyO-W7yr_Ss3FglwsjDxPRzgqQqG9182VdIKB6dFeWf41lUZDw2sfYB0b4FLE4fz9kutnEOsMHrA/s1600/DSCN1471.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieWBFWUAVuHURxUjVzbC7HmRwdrUKJrTznxZEoKWKaxjj_bEO872nGfRkG4VoBSF1CyO-W7yr_Ss3FglwsjDxPRzgqQqG9182VdIKB6dFeWf41lUZDw2sfYB0b4FLE4fz9kutnEOsMHrA/s320/DSCN1471.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>A ROOM
WITH A VIEW<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">I just
love being able to see the city from my hotel, and this is the vista from my
room at the Motel 6 University Park just NW of downtown near the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Nebraska-Omaha</st1:placename></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This place used to be a 6-story Best Western
and you’d never know it was a Motel 6—it seemed more like a poor man’s Marriott
and was quite suitable for less than 70 bucks night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was even able to make my stay pay for
itself after playing Blackjack at Harrah’s casino over in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Council Bluffs</st1:city></st1:place> and coming away with a net
profit of $150. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My timing was perfect
too, as they were flirting with record low temperatures Friday night/Saturday
morning and it was in the mid-‘70s all weekend. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost needed a sweatshirt—just phenomenal
for late July in this region.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6XWfNQxAvB_54uZjvBpZGtPrkWFHiLqa7H0E6KGsJf_OgOMiumST4LSD2biYSfXm2TpcWXmQqEbAJ6R6thRPRABv3FSHcO5JR892c800weqE_hiemFq7keHsulvJy7v7i5NPWv8SoFQ/s1600/20130623-leos-diner-fantasy-island-edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV6XWfNQxAvB_54uZjvBpZGtPrkWFHiLqa7H0E6KGsJf_OgOMiumST4LSD2biYSfXm2TpcWXmQqEbAJ6R6thRPRABv3FSHcO5JR892c800weqE_hiemFq7keHsulvJy7v7i5NPWv8SoFQ/s320/20130623-leos-diner-fantasy-island-edit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“SMILES, EVERYONE, SMILES!”<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">I made it a point to check out some local eateries
rated highly by the locals, and one that sounded intriguing was a dive called
Leo’s Diner in north central <st1:city w:st="on">Omaha</st1:city>, whose claim
to fame is a delicacy known as “<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Fantasy</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Island</st1:placetype></st1:place>”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was all set to try it on Saturday morning,
but I had to postpone it for a day because u</span>nbeknownst to me, the little neighborhood Leo's
resides in was having some sort of parade and the place was right smack-dab in
the middle of the parade route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
worth the wait until Sunday, though, as it was most excellent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Basically, it's two biscuits on top of hash
browns, with sausage gravy poured over that, with ham, bacon, onion and green
peppers mixed in, topped with two eggs anyway you want.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worth checking out sometime if you’re ever in
the area, although the wait staff was a bit on the scuzzy side, and really I
could've done without them sniping at each other in front of the customers—not
cool.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-LvykSiQYkHJKsg-jwyKJyYgpgyPwj0v63HRmI2o-v8HCX766fZ1EKaEzebgr2M7uzFfhjk_n0g3Td_6abpkuPFsZbX0R1v2Tlv1BF10pYd0g9z1mC8-47PI1e4ghaaABRBqnIeTc/s1600/DSCN1435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-LvykSiQYkHJKsg-jwyKJyYgpgyPwj0v63HRmI2o-v8HCX766fZ1EKaEzebgr2M7uzFfhjk_n0g3Td_6abpkuPFsZbX0R1v2Tlv1BF10pYd0g9z1mC8-47PI1e4ghaaABRBqnIeTc/s320/DSCN1435.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>“I FIRE
UP THE WILLING ENGINE, RESPONDING WITH A ROAR…”<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">My new
red machine, a 2007 Ford 500 SEL, may not be a Barchetta, but it’s a beautiful
shade of metallic red, and it performed admirably on its maiden road trip
sojourn. Now that I have an odometer
that measures mileage, I was most pleased to get 28 MPG on the highway, which
is a major upgrade over the land barge I'd been driving. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I almost got to witness an accident in front
of me on I-29 too, as some redneck in the little pickup hauling a large
mattress that was blocking his rearview mirror nearly ran an SUV (who was
trying to pass him on the right) right off the road. Was also amused by another
mattress hauler who thought he had it strapped down good on top of his minivan--until
it started raising up in the wind like airplane flaps! We nearly had liftoff...<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Q_ukh9BkQ6PzGI_VkvxeTnnTtj51r-CWwGFqArvtARnwwDULGN5kMnav-xPiM3ZwNjTpXUFJP-4rjdZHtDImspR89ZUU-7EQ61Xehsr0rkaetP4XqFORp_gcJCnz5iDzWFgT5LgpwM/s1600/DSCN1464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5Q_ukh9BkQ6PzGI_VkvxeTnnTtj51r-CWwGFqArvtARnwwDULGN5kMnav-xPiM3ZwNjTpXUFJP-4rjdZHtDImspR89ZUU-7EQ61Xehsr0rkaetP4XqFORp_gcJCnz5iDzWFgT5LgpwM/s320/DSCN1464.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>YOU
COULD HEAR A PIN DROP</strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">This
is the fancy new baseball stadium on the north side of downtown <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Omaha</st1:place></st1:city> where they now play
the annual NCAA <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">College
World Series. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quite a handsome ballpark—almost
Major League quality—but it seems like a total waste considering they only use
the place one month out of the year, while Omaha's minor league Storm Chasers
team (the Royals' AAA affiliate) plays in their own new stadium in the middle
of a corn field down in the next county. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why the hell do they make their fans drive 12
miles away from the city when they could be playing right downtown?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apart from making it a shorter drive for the
fans coming up from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Lincoln</st1:place></st1:city>
on I-80, this makes no sense...<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-6amUvMFd-EBIf1t3GC-wcpghRi6_v4gk4ijQVq95jOZyA9zRQe0srd8NthMvnxetHwhHd9C5MtS6Rvuxd_X7Jwi3z5Q6_NA4WLZBYrk59oX8J-c2yxz9I3nnGMmcaFisimK0EY6vk8/s1600/DSCN1470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG-6amUvMFd-EBIf1t3GC-wcpghRi6_v4gk4ijQVq95jOZyA9zRQe0srd8NthMvnxetHwhHd9C5MtS6Rvuxd_X7Jwi3z5Q6_NA4WLZBYrk59oX8J-c2yxz9I3nnGMmcaFisimK0EY6vk8/s320/DSCN1470.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>MY <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">KIND OF PLACE</st1:address></st1:street>!<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">So
nice of the Omahans (Omahites?) to name something after me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also cool of them to hype my man Weird Al’s
performance at the nearby Orpheum Theater, which I was a night too late to
catch on Thursday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But fear not, coming
next week for a limited engagement at the good ol’ HPAC, Hugh Grant stars in
the stage presentation of "Oh, What A Twit!" <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9q3iHlD6DMBajZo_h09uxItmQLTjNZgx18ygv2W9wB9xr5YARr4zAUkObVcsElKlgYW5_U5yW6T6rxZHIPRYFtxpUNdNLndEzWQ9lhY57wVbIbtpQAbet_PB0u_znrKf258x7SrUfHw/s1600/DSCN1468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT9q3iHlD6DMBajZo_h09uxItmQLTjNZgx18ygv2W9wB9xr5YARr4zAUkObVcsElKlgYW5_U5yW6T6rxZHIPRYFtxpUNdNLndEzWQ9lhY57wVbIbtpQAbet_PB0u_znrKf258x7SrUfHw/s400/DSCN1468.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>WHERE’S
THAT CONFOUNDED BRIDGE?<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">This
is a rickety old foot bridge. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
rickety, that they won't even let humans on it anymore. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was standing in <st1:state w:st="on">Iowa</st1:state>
when I snapped this, and that's <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">South
Dakota</st1:place></st1:state> on the opposite shore. I drove up to <st1:city w:st="on">Sioux City</st1:city>
on Saturday afternoon just for shits and hoots because I'd never been there,
and I hopped over to that little SE tip of <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">South Dakota</st1:place></st1:state>, knocking another state off my
list that I hadn't set foot in yet. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
leaves only Vermont, Montana, Wyoming, North Dakota, Alaska, Hawaii and Idaho
as the only U.S. states I never been in, although technically I've been over
part of Idaho in a plane.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWXTPpfr0uABvNQG8rP4xO-g2xEB-j_NooysWCFWt8VWvVaDZKIL6jpxOiarLDgM_FrHG1wPL8eYn3swiNacPCpPk9H3wiVcAflNV53gAr3WJwkW6GkDXWhf_NLe_g-wrKFdgGHTU4nc/s1600/58228_10201752046585205_161834469_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRWXTPpfr0uABvNQG8rP4xO-g2xEB-j_NooysWCFWt8VWvVaDZKIL6jpxOiarLDgM_FrHG1wPL8eYn3swiNacPCpPk9H3wiVcAflNV53gAr3WJwkW6GkDXWhf_NLe_g-wrKFdgGHTU4nc/s320/58228_10201752046585205_161834469_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><strong>BEYOND
THE BEYOND…<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";">My
first stop when I got to town Friday was a BBQ emporium called Beyond BBQ in a
little strip mall just west of where I was staying. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too shabby, especially the St. Louis-style
ribs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know that they’ll be
around long, though—I was their lone customer after 8:00 on a Friday night
until they closed at 9:00, and the place had no atmosphere at all, not even any
music playing overhead, with a World War II movie playing on the TV.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Meantime,
my Saturday night dinner was even more interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to a sports bar I’ve heard about for
years called Brewburgers on the SW corner of the city and tried their
“Inside-Out Burger”, which has the cheese and bacon already built-in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn't bad, but there was one little problem—I
took one bite and the thing exploded all over my shirt!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, it wasn’t half as good as the appetizer
I ate, "Cajun Nachos",
which was chips topped with cheese, Cajun sausages and alligator meat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t even know gators were edible, and
kept having visions of Bobby Boucher’s mama from <em>The Waterboy</em> whooping this
up in the kitchen, but this stuff was damn good!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6rY38XjPTNBCGzmSx26rVtlZLmv5iJvaLiUWhOxLgMWw9nHkmeqv0fGm73ixbGWh3a-Dq1kyXwXJD69VG85ftX0PIB_VFZP8_PuEszwFo-Y9DJcjBf_Jyc10IFsTBYqlCcU2pIE5UEQ/s1600/DSCN1472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6rY38XjPTNBCGzmSx26rVtlZLmv5iJvaLiUWhOxLgMWw9nHkmeqv0fGm73ixbGWh3a-Dq1kyXwXJD69VG85ftX0PIB_VFZP8_PuEszwFo-Y9DJcjBf_Jyc10IFsTBYqlCcU2pIE5UEQ/s320/DSCN1472.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A NEW PLAYPEN<o:p></o:p></span></strong></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">On the way home Sunday I swung down to Lincoln,
which I hadn’t visited since 1991 and was surprised to find a fancy new arena
going up just a couple blocks west of the U. of Nebraska football stadium.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nearly completed and due to open in
September, the Pinnacle Bank Arena replaces the aging <st1:placename w:st="on">Devaney</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype> for <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nebraska</st1:place></st1:state> bassit-ball (both men’s and
women’s), and will also host major concerts like the Eagles in October.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looks like a major upgrade for <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nebraska</st1:place></st1:state>’s capital city.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The drive from Omaha was a treat too, as
you can legally do 75 MPH on three-lane (each way) I-80.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</span></span></span><br />Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-4201046484798166572013-05-26T12:09:00.001-06:002013-05-26T12:12:08.237-06:00Concert #115<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Red Elvises/Hayseed Dixie</strong> (Saturday, May 18,
2013—Knuckleheads)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Ticket price: $23.50<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">About this time a year ago, the Red Elvises were a
band with a huge cult following that I’d never heard of, but when they opened
for our local favorites the Rainmakers at the Knuckeheads dive bar, I was most
impressed by their sheer goofiness and off-beat humor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked them so much, I snagged their best-of
double-CD and delved into their oddball repertoire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They played K-heads again back in November, but
it was bad timing because it was a weeknight, and I was already committed to
seeing Bruce Springsteen at <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Sprint</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> that weekend, so I
had to pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Elvi invaded us once
again six months later last Saturday night, and I was really looking forward to
seeing them headline this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m
still waiting to see them headline…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharN_JCIR2_t-0nUU2ZDdY_KhFHOn4zRu4Lf5AGgGli0Pv87EjD_oXoYbPZ-v1vp4DSrsdsXyo6AtKcqQgfhnKAVklrcJ4wva7kPIjwiulk4cadwqshGHut3-pBFDTIjEaKBbzVFN_oFk/s1600/Red_Elvises_jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEharN_JCIR2_t-0nUU2ZDdY_KhFHOn4zRu4Lf5AGgGli0Pv87EjD_oXoYbPZ-v1vp4DSrsdsXyo6AtKcqQgfhnKAVklrcJ4wva7kPIjwiulk4cadwqshGHut3-pBFDTIjEaKBbzVFN_oFk/s320/Red_Elvises_jpg.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This show was billed as the Red Elvises “with
special guests” Hayseed Dixie, another under-the-radar band I was also
interested in seeing, so I assumed Hayseed was the opening act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrong!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In typical backward-ass Knuckleheads fashion, the headliners played
FIRST on this night, and I was most disappointed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Elvises, led by singer/guitarist Igor
Yuzov, got off to a hot start, opening with “Drinking With Jesus” and playing
some biggies of theirs like “I Wanna See You Bellydance” and “Strip Joint Is
Closed” and “Love Rocket”, which features the classic double-entendre line,
“We’re gonna rock this joint/We’re gonna roll this joint/We’re gonna smoke this
joint…until we sound like Pink Floyd.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then, just six songs or so into the set, Igor announces they were going
to take a short break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WTF?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, I thought maybe this meant they
were playing the whole night because the Hayseeds didn’t make it or something,
but I was wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The set resumed with some newer stuff and a few
more favorites like “Closet Disco Dancer” and included an interesting drum solo
featuring all five members of the band on the SAME drum kit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Red Elvises personnel seems to be
ever-changing (the above photo is not current), and it’s a unique line-up they have now—it’s both bi-racial and
co-ed with three white guys (two from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Russia</st1:place></st1:country-region>) and two black women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oleg Bernov was back with his ever-present
day-glo orange balalaika bass guitar, which is so big it needs a kick-stand to
hold it up while he plays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Multi-instrumentalist Sarah Johnson played keyboards, sax and flute at
one end of the stage, while Dregas Smith manned (womanned?) another keyboard at
the other end and the drummer’s name is Garrett Morris, but you wouldn’t
recognize him from his “SNL” days—he’s white and in his 30s now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By and large, it was a good, energetic set
the Elvises put on, but too damn short—only about an hour and ten minutes, not
counting the intermission. They played a far better set last year opening for the Rainmakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even worse,
this was the first time I’ve ever seen the headline act have to tear down their
own equipment following their set.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve mentioned my disdain for Knuckleheads before,
but it bears repeating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a dumpy
indoor/outdoor dive bar that looks like a FEMA project that was pieced together
with spare parts, with an outdoor stage that appears to be an old loading dock
from who knows when, and it’s located in a downright dismal part of Kansas
City’s east bottoms area, with “bottom” being the operative word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and it sits practically on top of a live
railroad line that is constantly in use, with train whistles blaring at any
given moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In one of the men’s
restrooms, instead of a toilet, they have you pissing into a trough-like sink
full of ice! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How they’re able to attract
nationally-known acts like Leon Russell and Kenny Wayne Shepherd to play there
is beyond me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mean to sound
snobbish, and I’m not expecting the place to be the Taj Mahal or anything, but
come on, we can do better than this!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
lone saving grace of the place is the cheap beer, but I was on the wagon that
night anyway, so I didn’t have a particularly good time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once the Elvises packed up their gear, it
should’ve been a quick changeover to Hayseed Dixie, but it wasn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was an awkward period of about 15
minutes with the Hayseeds standing on stage with their instruments trying to
get direct boxes (the sound gizmos) to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For the uninitiated, HD is a group of excellent <st1:place w:st="on">Bluegrass</st1:place>
musicians who do cover versions of mostly hard Rock songs from the likes of
Kiss, AC/DC and Motorhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once they did
get going, they still had sound issues for the first couple songs, especially
banjo player Don Wayne Reno, but once that was corrected, they reeled off
several AC/DC cuts, including “Hells Bells”, "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" and “You Shook Me All Night Long”
and even the more obscure “Let’s Get It Up”, as well as Motorhead’s “Ace Of
Spades”, which I’m sure would’ve made our friend Lemmy proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even The Cars’ “Best Friend’s Girl” and Alice
Cooper’s “Poison” got the Bluegrass treatment, and although this style of music
is hardly my cup of tea, it’s fun to hear popular songs re-worked with
different instrumentation, to the point where you have to play “Name That Tune”
sometimes to figure out which song it is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5aCmTAyTaEXiy3XVyWIeUC2NRnHyss1AQ2VsFPLar6pOe9JFCAi1poEgD1MNrRsTux9O3mKDhbuW3ZOBf-SJMh_W0GWyIJQw1WloHQi0-9tHh4vjB26FVPWRCMI2evm0YdYL0wD-Et8/s1600/hayseed+live.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje5aCmTAyTaEXiy3XVyWIeUC2NRnHyss1AQ2VsFPLar6pOe9JFCAi1poEgD1MNrRsTux9O3mKDhbuW3ZOBf-SJMh_W0GWyIJQw1WloHQi0-9tHh4vjB26FVPWRCMI2evm0YdYL0wD-Et8/s320/hayseed+live.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">The highlight of the set for me was their raucous
rendition of Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody”, which they deemed “the greatest
killin’ song of all-time”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little
while later as the band played, some Hell’s Angel outside the venue drove by on
his overly-loud fart-machine chopper bike and intentionally drowned out the
band, prompting mandolin player Dale Reno to shout into his mic, “That guy has
a little penis!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately, after
about an hour I started getting bored with Hayseed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First off, they aren’t much to look at—they
totally live up to their name, appearance-wise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I also quickly got burned-out on lead singer John Wheeler’s endless
yammering between songs all about the same subject, drinking, which is pretty
redundant in a bar/nightclub—it’s like someone constantly yapping about being
naked in a nudist colony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And don’t get
me wrong, they’re all great musicians for the genre they play, but the stuff
does all kinda sound the same after a while and I’ve found that Hayseed Dixie
is best taken in smaller doses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
hadn’t even played any Kiss songs yet, but I’d had enough and left midway
through their set because it was about to storm anyhow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would’ve been a much better show for me
if the roles had been reversed and the Red Elvi played a full set.</span></div>
Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-42027464207784968322013-05-14T18:39:00.000-06:002013-05-14T19:47:46.906-06:00Concert #114<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>
Styx/R.E.O. Speedwagon/Ted Nugent</strong> (Friday, May 10, 2013—Starlight Theater) <span style="font-size: x-small;">Ticket price: $24.75</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQv7o4Kl9xiQYAw69LselixymrWNCuLn5Z1rPvGG3KmOAdwkozrwQq5qtUQ5wai8V8nMr0R6qyZ2h1t_poN_w1ru-qQWS9T7vmOnAlEEtO-fQmESMy_ZwxabM0p3wdmRaGTgj-mIIIlI/s1600/styx_rrxpress2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQv7o4Kl9xiQYAw69LselixymrWNCuLn5Z1rPvGG3KmOAdwkozrwQq5qtUQ5wai8V8nMr0R6qyZ2h1t_poN_w1ru-qQWS9T7vmOnAlEEtO-fQmESMy_ZwxabM0p3wdmRaGTgj-mIIIlI/s320/styx_rrxpress2.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wasn’t initially planning to attend this concert featuring three of Kansas City’s all-time favorite ‘70s Rock acts (which I’ve seen numerous times in the past), but a friend invited me tag along with the group he had assembled to go, and since I hadn’t set foot in Starlight Theater in about a decade, I thought "What the hey," and decided to go. Turned out to be a good move, as it wasn’t a bad show.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Given my <a href="http://hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2013/04/dear-ted.html">anti-Nugent manifesto</a> that I posted just last month, I was really in no mood to see my ex-idol perform again at this point in my life. This was my 10th Nugent show since 1979 (his 7th as an opening act), and in a totally unintentional yet fairly symbolic gesture on my part, I happened to be in the men’s room taking a leak when Nugent’s set began</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—first time I’ve ever not seen him hit the stage in his 10 performances I’ve witnessed, gosh darn it! I sooooooo wanted to rip him to shreds here, but guess what—that’s not going to happen. Instead, even jaded ol’ me has to admit that this was easily the best set I’ve seen Ted Nugent play in person since 1982—musically, that is. He opened with "Wango Tango", minus the stupid rap about the Mazerati, but with a few bars from "Cool Jerk" (Ted Nugent sings the Go-Go’s!), then gave way to his rhythm guitarist for the vocal on the next song. I didn’t recognize the guy at first, but his voice sounded an awful lot like that of longtime on-and-off Nugent sideman Derek St. Holmes, and as it turned out, it WAS Derek St. Holmes! DSH was indeed "Just What The Doctor Ordered" to upgrade Nugent’s live act—it’s sorta like in baseball where you need a good #5 hitter to back up your clean-up batter, and Nugent has never understood this. He always has to hog the spotlight for himself, thus he can’t handle sharing it with a much more talented singer, and I never expected these two to ever work together again in light of Holmes’ commentary on the VH-1 "Behind The Music" segment on Nugent. Derek’s return led to an even more unexpected (and most welcome) surprise for me, as after 34 years, I finally got to hear one of my all-time Nugent favorites performed live, "Turn It Up" from <em>Free-For-All</em>, and it kicked ass. Could it be that Ted Nugent might actually find his way back into my good graces? Well, this was a step in the right direction, but not nearly enough.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don’t know if this really made a big difference or not, but in another throwback to the ‘70s, I noticed Ted was once again playing his trademark Gibson Byrdland guitars instead of the Les Pauls he’d employed in recent years. The mighty Les Paul guitar looks just right on the likes of Pete Townshend and Ace Frehley, but on Nugent they always looked out of place. Meantime, Rev. Theodocious Atrocious goes through more drummers than Spinal Tap, but his current rhythm section is the best he’s had since the ‘70s, with "Wild" Mick Brown (formerly of Dokken) on drums and bassist Greg Smith, who looked like he wasn’t even born yet when <em>Weekend Warriors</em> came out in '78. The set list was rounded out by usual suspects like "Cat Scratch Fever", "Stranglehold", "Wang Dang Sweet Poontang" and since Holmes was back, the hit "Hey Baby", which received a good reaction from the crowd, which I would estimate at about 7,000 or so. I was a bit surprised at the omission of "Free-For-All" and 1995’s "Kiss My Ass", and Ted fell flat on his face with his misguided tribute to black musicians in the form of a medley of "My Girl" (yes, the Temptations’ "My Girl") and a half-assed rendition of Chuck Berry’s "Johnny B. Goode". Soul Brotha #1, you ain’t, Ted. At least he spared us the firing of the flaming arrow into the fake guitar from ten paces this time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And of course, it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. For the first half of his 45-minute set, Nugent checked his tongue and focused more or less on the music and working the crowd. If I had a dollar for every time Nugent uttered the phrase "I love this shit!" (referring to being on stage playing to HIS people), the cost of my ticket would’ve been covered. "You fuckers deserve me, Kansas City!" he declared. Yeah, like whooping cough or inverted nipples. That wasn’t so bad, but like a junkie with a crack pipe, it wasn’t long before Ted stopped resisting temptation and spewed forth his usual right-wing Wookiee excrement. There was the usual paranoia about someone threatening to take his guns away, and statements like "The President is the enemy!...The Attorney General is the enemy!", as well as this classic: "If you’re not out there pissing off the assholes, then YOU are an asshole!" I guess I’m not an asshole, though, because if Ted reads this review, it’ll piss HIM off, so I’m covered, right? When Ted implored everyone to "Stand up for what you believe in", I promptly sat back down—I don’t believe in nandofucks. Ted’s coup de grace was when he stated, "I salute those who defend the Constitution that the President wipes his ass with!" Coming from an admitted draft dodger, I think this is a total insult to every combat veteran in America. I’d pay good money to see one of them shove their prosthetic leg or arm up Ted’s ass. I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again: I attend a Rock show to be Rocked and entertained, not to be preached at and fed a load of political buffalo bagels. Why does Nugent insist on pissing all over an otherwise fine performance with all this bullshit that doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the music he’s performing? He’s like the jagoff who farts at the dinner table at Thanksgiving. Do us all a big favor, Ted—just shut the fuck up, take a tip from Aerosmith and "Let the music do the talking…" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>SET LIST</strong>: <em>Wango Tango; Just What The Doctor Ordered; Wang Dang Sweet Poontang; Turn It Up; Medley: My Girl/Johnny B. Goode; Hey Baby; Cat Scratch Fever; Stranglehold; Great White Buffalo</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">R.E.O. was up next. This was my third time around with the Speedwagon, and second time with the current lineup of Bryan Hitt on drums, guitarist Dave Amato (who once worked with Nugent), bassist Bruce Hall, stalwart keyboardist Neal Doughty and singer Kevin Cronin. A brief video montage of Bo Diddley-beat songs from the past led into their opener, "Don’t Let Him Go". Cronin sported almost Phil Spector-ish poofy blonde hair, and as I feared, his voice has all the depth of a shot glass now, as the years have taken a toll on his vocal chords. He sounded really weak on the <em>Arch Allies</em> live CD, which came out over a decade ago, and sadly, not much has changed. But KC is a trouper and worked the crowd with Springsteen-like prowess throughout R.E.O.’s set, which was fairly predictable, featuring "Take It On The Run", "Time For Me To Fly" and "Back On The Road Again", as well as "Keep On Lovin’ You" and "Ridin’ The Storm Out" for the encore. I was also hoping to hear "157 Riverside Avenue" (with Cronin’s infamous yodeling) and perhaps some more obscure stuff like "Say You Love Me Or Say Goodnight" and "Good Trouble", but they could only cram so much into their 70-minute set. Which begs the question, did we really need Nugent at this show at all? I would much rather have skipped him altogether if it meant getting full 90-minute sets from Speedwagon and Styx. Anyway, the two surprises for me were "Golden Country", which was omitted in my previous two R.E.O. shows, and "That Ain’t Love", one of the last hits they had with long-estranged lead guitarist Gary Richrath in 1987. It seems almost like an indictment that this was the most recent song played by any of the three acts at this show. Have we really been this devoid of good classic Rock over the last 26 years? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>SET LIST</strong>: <em>Don’t Let Him Go; Take It On The Run; Keep Pushin’; Golden Country; Can’t Fight This Feeling; That Ain’t Love; Time For Me To Fly; Back On The Road Again; Roll With The Changes </em><strong>ENCORE</strong><em>: Keep On Lovin’ You; Ridin’ The Storm Out</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUff99lgReCk3xYceqOukdt5q-IFa-sgTK2UH1BNDHf4FAekRfZ0YRRllxjjY8bzcn13AXspCu1ImYjiGzvKan8ObFJE1ol12DlkqB2WW_LAn43ZcLh4GrS9jC025EdXuZARmsrzsGLM/s1600/4414231414_600279bc83_z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUff99lgReCk3xYceqOukdt5q-IFa-sgTK2UH1BNDHf4FAekRfZ0YRRllxjjY8bzcn13AXspCu1ImYjiGzvKan8ObFJE1ol12DlkqB2WW_LAn43ZcLh4GrS9jC025EdXuZARmsrzsGLM/s320/4414231414_600279bc83_z.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">All three acts employed the nice big video screen in back, but there were no live cameras at this gig, so it was basically all graphics, band logos and lame visuals all night—kinda worthless, I thought. The sound mix was a major issue for me too—it was way too trebly. I realize my ears are almost 49 years old now and can’t always take the pounding like they used to, but volume wasn’t the problem so much as the high-end shrieky-ness, even during R.E.O. and Styx, which left my ears ringing for quite some time afterward. But I have to say, Starlight Theater (pictured here from back in the '60s) is still the best concert venue Kansas City has to offer by far. It’s been around over 60 years now, but they’ve maintained and updated the place quite well over the years. My very first Rock concert happened here—Paul Revere And The Raiders in 1971—and I thought back to the other great shows I’ve seen at Starlight, like Pat Benatar in 2002, Robin Williams in 1983, and especially Elton John in 1982—not to mention nearly drowning in a thunderstorm at Weird Al Yankovic in 2000—and wondered why I don’t go there more often. Ironically, of all the major KC concert venues, apart from Arrowhead Stadium, Starlight is closest to where I live.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This was my fourth concert sojourn with the Stygians, but my first time without keyboardist/co-founder Dennis DeYoung, and I didn’t miss him as much as I expected to. Surprisingly, Styx doesn’t lose all that much without DDY, as his kinda-sorta sound-alike replacement Lawrence Gowan is quite the showman himself, and was very animated throughout the set, particularly on his little spin-o-rama keyboard platform at stage right, which almost looks like something you’d find on a galactic playground. Apart from his goatee, guitarist Tommy Shaw doesn’t appear to have aged a bit since 1977, and he bounded about the stage like a 12-year-old all night. Former Baby Ricky Phillips is now the full-time bassist for Styx (aren’t we all former babies?), but three songs in, original bassist Chuck Panozzo made a cameo appearance on "Fooling Yourself" and returned later for "Come Sail Away" and the encore. Chuck’s a nice guy, not to mention courageous in campaigning for gay rights and all, but honestly, he’s not that big a draw with the fans, so I guess trotting him out for a few songs is merely Styx’s way of throwing him a bone by keeping him on the payroll. And no offense intended to Chuck’s dearly-departed brother John, but his replacement, Todd Sucherman, is a monster on the drums. I always considered John Panozzo to be a bit pedestrian, while Sucherman is a far more dynamic player, and his drum kit rivals that of Rush’s Neil Peart in size. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Like R.E.O., the Styx set list was predictable with a couple minor surprises like "Light Up" from <em>Equinox</em> and Shaw’s underrated and overlooked "Man In The Wilderness" from <em>The Grand Illusion</em>. Gowan did a solo bit where he played bits from classic Rock numbers before leading into "Come Sail Away". I was hoping we might hear "Suite: Madame Blue" or "Lorelei", but again they could only do so many songs in the short time allotted. And I was absolutely stunned that they didn’t perform "Babe"! "Mr. Roboto", either! How could this be?!? Okay, I’m being facetious, but I was a bit disappointed they didn’t do an encore with the guys from R.E.O. as they’ve done on previous R.E.O. Styx-wagon joint tours, or perhaps even a Damn Yankees reunion between Shaw and Nugent. Still and all, this wasn’t a bad concert for the money. Nothing I hadn’t seen before, mind you, but if nothing else, it reignited my "concert mojo" a bit, which now has me interested in doing more than a few gigs this summer and fall, like Rush, the Eagles, Black Sabbath, Kiss, Heart, etc. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>SET LIST</strong><em>: Blue Collar Man; The Grand Illusion; Fooling Yourself; Lady; Light Up; Man In The Wilderness; Miss America; Too Much Time On My Hands; Medley: Space Oddity/Layla (the piano part)/You Can’t Always Get What You Want; Come Sail Away </em><strong>ENCORE</strong><em>: Rockin’ The Paradise; Renegade</em></span></span></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-76481838500129318812013-04-29T18:56:00.004-06:002013-05-04T19:45:43.759-06:00Fly Like The Egos ("Fly Like The Eagles?" remastered)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTwVV2jMOra1rmVkPhkuGsDNOpjRCO588887L6oF-1X2OQZt3JTGazDL_zMhJxfnGPJaalAGq4YuIie99aWJyvON8tQSzn5VuHzru_hR_F_m8USru_IJ3bG9lAZf_8wpe8omVd5EZYDc/s1600/the_eagles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqTwVV2jMOra1rmVkPhkuGsDNOpjRCO588887L6oF-1X2OQZt3JTGazDL_zMhJxfnGPJaalAGq4YuIie99aWJyvON8tQSzn5VuHzru_hR_F_m8USru_IJ3bG9lAZf_8wpe8omVd5EZYDc/s320/the_eagles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A couple or three years ago, I paid a very brief blog tribute to The Eagles, a band I was never a gi-normous fan of, but who was/is still worthy of a tribute all-the-same, given their lofty stature as one of the most renowned and popular American bands of all-time. Having recently viewed the three-hour documentary "History Of The Eagles" on Showtime, I find myself much more educated about the band, and a couple years back I read ousted lead guitarist Don Felder’s tell-all book, <em>Heaven and Hell: My Life in the Eagles (1974-2001)</em> and thoroughly enjoyed it. At that time, I found myself siding with Felder more than I did with Eagles co-founders Glenn Frey and Don Henley (whom he referred to as "The Gods" in the book), but after viewing the documentary, I no longer have a "frail grasp" on the band’s history, yet I find myself a bit conflicted about certain issues regarding them, so I thought I’d take a page from VH-1 Classic and offer an expanded "Remastered" version of my original Eagles post.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I've always had a love/hate (more accurately "like/hate") relationship with the Eagles ever since the '70s. I absolutely hated them</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—<em>hated them</em>—at times. I perceived them to be rather snobbish and uppity, with a "we're better than everybody else" attitude, and I always thought they got played way too much on the radio, both on Top 40 and Album Rock stations.</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> However, they did have a few songs I liked, especially "Witchy Woman", "Already Gone" and "One Of These Nights", so I tried to tolerate them best I could. As I got older I learned to appreciate the band a lot more, although there are still some Eagles songs that I never need to hear again as long as I live (namely "Hotel California", "New Kid In Town" and "Life In The Fast Lane") because they've been played to death so much on radio. In recent years, I managed to obtain all of their original albums on CD, and have been pleasantly surprised at how good some of their "B-stuff" is. Songs like "Outlaw Man", "Good Day In Hell", "My Man", "Journey Of The Sorcerer", "Out Of Control", "Chug All Night", etc., have all caught my ear</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—why can’t some of these tracks get a spin or two on the radio instead of "Seven Bridges Road", "The Long Run" and "Take It Easy" all the time?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NfSuvnhwM-sWwq0dwe0vF6WH6InqguoGqkwYvXD7uyagW7qn33UdbnDZguXuIJ7pVJBHXwD3t7QjeB_p6MyE3oILMvNjX8V7kivQIBUK1n5KbhQPEFdmPXN-rz0qGEm_xztUdVbkDPw/s1600/Don-Henley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3NfSuvnhwM-sWwq0dwe0vF6WH6InqguoGqkwYvXD7uyagW7qn33UdbnDZguXuIJ7pVJBHXwD3t7QjeB_p6MyE3oILMvNjX8V7kivQIBUK1n5KbhQPEFdmPXN-rz0qGEm_xztUdVbkDPw/s320/Don-Henley.jpg" width="268" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Although I have often viewed Glenn Frey and especially Don Henley as real hard-asses over the years, Henley comes off way better in the documentary than Frey does. While Frey just seems like a pompous prick at times, Henley is a lot more laid-back and calculated in his demeanor, and actually appears to have a heart after all, plus his friendly Texan drawl is rather endearing to listen to. Henley’s a natural iconoclast, though—a lot like me in some ways—which is why I still like and respect him, in spite of his often prickly personality. He has a wry and often wicked sense of humor, and like one of his best songs goes, he can truly "get down to the heart of the matter" on most any subject like TV news ("Dirty Laundry"), TV talk shows ("Get Over It"), general phoniness ("Busy Being Fabulous"), the impermanence and fragility of life ("New York Minute") and blind faith ("Frail Grasp On The Big Picture").</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JiTQO6jmJCVGsmcYx2NqExlkLbwt6WzSaVHXIMnBMe9gI7bHyTbNm5NWe3jLvTxstrAl22sBg4BOyF9fGgkMysZPM-40mXksZxM-nwqYdg04TsOtQ9_kxaATnPnQkStfyepYEmKczVk/s1600/EaglesDVDFreylive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JiTQO6jmJCVGsmcYx2NqExlkLbwt6WzSaVHXIMnBMe9gI7bHyTbNm5NWe3jLvTxstrAl22sBg4BOyF9fGgkMysZPM-40mXksZxM-nwqYdg04TsOtQ9_kxaATnPnQkStfyepYEmKczVk/s320/EaglesDVDFreylive.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As for Frey, I really want to like the guy, but his arrogance makes that very difficult. While he’s a fine singer/songwriter, always treats his concert audience with courtesy and certainly possesses a good Rock ‘N’ Roll attitude in general, he just appears so confrontational and is always spoiling for a fight with someone (particularly Felder), and his ego often seems to get the best of him. I thought he handled the departures of original bassist Randy Meisner and original guitarist Bernie Leadon rather poorly with his "my way or the highway" ultimatums and his relationship with Felder was/is especially messy. Things reached a boiling point in 1980 at a concert in Long Beach in which the band played to benefit Senator Alan Cranston. The apolitical Felder was none too crazy about this venture, while Frey stroked his own ego by hob-knobbing with the politicos, and when Cranston went down the line to shake hands with the band to thank them for their participation, Felder infamously responded, "You’re welcome…I guess," which totally incensed Frey. Instead of talking things out like gentlemen, Billy Bad-Ass was livid, and totally ready to punch Felder out right on stage that night, and Frey subsequently chased him down afterward before Felder escaped in a limo—pretty immature, Glenn. Dude, I woulda said the EXACT SAME THING Felder did because I’m very cynical about Rock bands schmoozing with politicians—you think just because you have a microphone and/or a guitar and some money, you can change the fucking world? Sorry, bud, you’re just a Rock band…</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also still can’t shake this image I have of Frey and Henley as greedy bastards who can only get motivated to make a new album or go on tour when there’s a super-sized paycheck involved. I still recall how dumbfounded I was when tickets for the Eagles’ "Hell Freezes Over" tour topped out at over a hundred bucks—quite commonplace now, but unheard-of in 1994. Then again, I’m still a fan of two of the champion Rock money-grubbers of all-time, Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley, so maybe I’m the idiot here, I dunno, but at least Kiss manages to keep their ticket prices fairly reasonable for working-class fans, and if the hoity-toity ones want to pay more for the deluxe package crap, that’s their problem. Anyway, even after watching "History…", it’s still hard to get a read on what these guys (Henley and Frey) are like personally, and it would certainly be interesting to sit down and have a few beers with them. A friend of mine on Facebook who has been in radio for over 30 years told a story recently that he heard from a friend who worked at Fox Theater in St. Louis where Don Henley was doing a solo performance in the early ‘90s, and they were told to not make eye contact with Henley or even acknowledge his presence in any way or he’d cancel the show. Okay, I’m finding it a bit difficult to believe that he would be that full of himself, but if he is, that’s disappointing—yer shit stinks too, Don.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_yLX13nzCSQ7ukYiy_ArqMW9UNnB5zmSrvTcgbzccGTNKMgbmJZRPmU8GwL8LfXQy_LICRT2ccNjs27pWe7C4ASXxaekcueEUpPHOUFEAjvA5bWLAr5GJn79P8DvgWaKxn5Gpi8TNwk/s1600/936272_10201167497891853_1723557894_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_yLX13nzCSQ7ukYiy_ArqMW9UNnB5zmSrvTcgbzccGTNKMgbmJZRPmU8GwL8LfXQy_LICRT2ccNjs27pWe7C4ASXxaekcueEUpPHOUFEAjvA5bWLAr5GJn79P8DvgWaKxn5Gpi8TNwk/s320/936272_10201167497891853_1723557894_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also learned quite a bit about Joe Walsh in this documentary that I was previously unaware of. I didn’t realize he had so many issues with drugs and alcohol—I just assumed he was naturally goofy and weird, but evidently he had a little help. Being a member of the Eagles has literally been a life-saver for Joe, because he might not have gotten sober had it not been for the urging of Frey, Felder and group manager Irving Azoff before the ’94 band reunion, and he seems like a much happier, more lucid and wiser individual today. Ironically, Walsh’s commentary in the documentary was the most poignant and compelling of all, and he was even able to cut through some of the Frey/Henley B.S. at times.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also didn’t know a lot about bassist Timothy B. Schmit beforehand. He always came off as a bit of a lightweight to me, in part because of his soft-spoken demeanor and the rather wimpy songs he contributes to the band, but I have to admit he’s a pretty thumpin’ good bass player, and Frey and Henley obviously respect him a lot, letting him have a hit song right away with his "I Can’t Tell You Why" from <em>The Long Run</em>. Oddly enough, Schmit replaced Randy Meisner in the band Poco when Randy joined the Eagles and Schmit replaced him<em> yet again</em> when Meisner departed the Eagles. Meisner had a great voice, with 1975’s "Take It To The Limit" being his high-water mark with the band, but he had some other tracks I liked, including "Tryin’", "Certain Kind Of Fool" and "Try And Love Again". Frey and Henley tried to encourage him to sing more, but he seemed inhibited (especially on-stage), and didn’t handle all the fame and such very well, thus he left the group in 1977 after <em>Hotel California</em>. I realize these guys are all 40 years older now, but of all the members of the Eagles, Meisner appears to have aged the most rapidly, going from a youthful boyish-looking guy to an old man rather stunningly—I wouldn’t have even recognized him now. I wouldn’t have recognized original lead guitarist Bernie Leadon either, being’s how he gave up on his hair since the ‘70s and shaved it all off, along with his bushy Jim Croce-esque mustache. Bernie was more partial to the twangy Country-Rock style the band played, which clashed with Frey’s straight-ahead Rock leanings, so he left after <em>One Of These Nights</em> and was replaced by Walsh. Rumor has it Leadon may be rejoining the Eagles for portions of their upcoming tour.</span><br />
<br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWG6rqiPEKt2Q-xGrCpIF3aD0r9KEUPh0DsGt60qIm7Nem5WqBOzxtRyEte_tg9cm8lU4yxtFxmEXKrnOxjLdWBFzsqkD_Nblwju_M1Lr32HJQ0LxW5RAmGqlvGxFGRFkx5JlDTFljZlY/s1600/Don-2796.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWG6rqiPEKt2Q-xGrCpIF3aD0r9KEUPh0DsGt60qIm7Nem5WqBOzxtRyEte_tg9cm8lU4yxtFxmEXKrnOxjLdWBFzsqkD_Nblwju_M1Lr32HJQ0LxW5RAmGqlvGxFGRFkx5JlDTFljZlY/s320/Don-2796.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As for Don Felder, I have mixed feelings about him now. When I read his book, he seemed very likeable (still does), and I could understand where he was coming from regarding his ouster from the Eagles. He’s a damn fine player too, but on the documentary, he comes across as a bit of a whiner. Felder was miffed that he didn’t get to sing lead on his song "Victim Of Love" (which Henley kinda stole from him), and when the band reunited in 1994, he was under the assumption that all five band members would be paid equally, but this wasn’t the case, as Frey insisted that he and Henley be compensated more, mostly because they were the co-founders and principal songwriters of the band. Valid points, I suppose, but this didn’t sit well with Felder, who tends to forget that he joined the band in mid-stream, thus he suffers a bit from Vinnie Vincent Syndrome, and wasn’t really in any position to be all that demanding. DF also feels that since he contributed one of the band’s biggest hits, "Hotel California", that he’s owed a bigger slice of the pie than he got, but as Peter Criss proved with "Beth" in Kiss, one home run doth not a Hall of Fame career make. Felder didn’t aid his cause with me with his final bit on the documentary, where he talks about how hurt he was and that he missed the camaraderie of the band, then abruptly gets up and says, "Okay…" and walks off, thus rendering everything he’d just said to be rather insincere.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Seems to me like Frey and Henley do more talking through lawyers now than anyone else, and I’m sure that’s what inspired them to put out their 2007 double CD<em> The Long Road Out Of Eden</em> exclusively via Walmart, so it seemed only fitting that one song on it was called "Business As Usual". A former co-worker of mine is a big Eagles fan, but being the hard-ass that he is, he valiantly refused to knuckle under to Frey/Henley Inc. by buying the CD so he took the circuitous route and borrowed it from his local library instead. He in turn loaned it to me and I pirated my own copy—sorry Don, Glenn and Wally-World! A better by-product of their various reunions is the double-DVD "Farewell Tour I" concert video they came out with a couple years prior to <em>Long Road</em> (which I actually DID purchase), that features phenomenal audio quality and a pretty good concert performance too. Frey even makes a humorous legal reference on that show, "This next song goes out to my first wife, Plaintiff". In the documentary, Henley himself noted that the band were often accused of "loitering on stage", but the "Farewell" video holds your attention throughout. While I tend to agree with many hardcore Eagles fans who would prefer to hear an all-Eagles set list instead of the inclusion of Henley, Frey and Walsh solo stuff, I have to say Henley’s "Dirty Laundry", "New York Minute" and "Sunset Grill", as well as Frey’s "You Belong To The City" do sound awfully tasty here, and Joe’s "Life's Been Good" was a high point of the show.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In lieu of my usual countdown, I’m just going to dole out a few random thoughts about my Eagles favorites (in no particular order):</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"><strong>"Lyin' Eyes" (1975)</strong></span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;"> I was 11 when this came out, and absolutely couldn't stand this song back then. It was too damn long for one thing, and too twangy for my liking at the time. But when I started hearing it with adult ears and could actually understand the juicy storyline in the song, I grew to love it.<br />
<strong>"Witchy Woman" (1972)</strong> Or as my older brother and I used to lampoon it when I was eight, "Itchy Woman"! For the longest time, I didn't even know this was The Eagles</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—for some reason, I thought it was some Native American band when I was a kid.<br />
<strong>"James Dean" (1974) </strong></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> "Too fast to live, too young to die, bye-bye..."</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"Heartache Tonight" (1979)</strong> I imagine more than a few bar brawls have been set to (or set-off by) this song.<br />
<strong>"Take It To The Limit" (1975)</strong> Ever notice how this song's intro is eerily similar to that of Harold Melvin & The Blue Notes' "If You Don't Know Me By Now"? I use to lampoon Randy Meisner’s falsetto "weeeeee"s at the end quite a bit, too. Randy went on to have a minor hit in 1981 with "Hearts On Fire", which wasn’t a bad song, and toured briefly with Rick Nelson, but thankfully was no longer in his band when Nelson’s plane crashed in 1985.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>"One Of These Nights" (1975) </strong> Every time I hear this song, I think back to the summer of '75 with this one playing on the jukebox at Fun House Pizza while I spent all those quarters on pinball and playing those prehistoric video games. This one comes off surprisingly well live in concert too, even with all its falsetto vocals.<br />
<strong>"Those Shoes" (1979)</strong> Don Henley gets down and dirty, and Joe Walsh gets to play with his squawk-box contraption.<br />
<strong>"Take It Easy" (1972) </strong> Another one that gets played to death on the radio, but I'm sure the good folks in Winslow, Arizona don't mind. If I'm ever down that way, I plan to go stand on one of their corners...<br />
<strong>"Already Gone" (1974) </strong> This was the second song I cranked up the day I accepted my current job back in 2001 (The Who's "I'm Free" was the first), thus freeing me from the miserable one I was stuck in. "I will sing this victory song..."<br />
<strong>"Get Over It" (1994) </strong>My all-time favorite Eagles tune.<strong> </strong>I love songs with rapid-fire lyrics, mostly because they're usually funny too, and this one's a killer. Full of attitude, Don Henley scores a direct hit on the daytime talk-show circuit, or "White Trash Theater", as I prefer to call it. Love the line, "You're makin' the most of your losing streak</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—some call it sick, well, I call it weak..."</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"Frail Grasp Of The Big Picture" (2007)</strong> One of two Henley gems off <em>Eden</em>, I just love his little mid-song invocation: "And we pray to our Lord/Who we know is American/He reigns from on high/He speaks to us through middlemen/And He shepherds His flock/We sing out and we praise His name/He supports us in war/He presides over football games/And the right will prevail/All our troubles shall be resolved/We hold faith above all/Unless there's money or sex involved" Amen, brother, amen!</span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"Busy Being Fabulous" (2007)</strong> Henley’s other gem from that album, which I dedicate to Kardashian-types (and those who give a shit about them) everywhere…</span><br />
</span></div>
Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-45519181050726709382013-04-13T18:24:00.001-06:002013-05-27T09:40:24.959-06:00Dear Ted...<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: small;">Back in 1974 during his "Lost Weekend" period, John Lennon was thrown out of the famed Troubadour club in LA for being drunk and belligerent during a Smothers Brothers performance, as well as for throwing punches at anyone in his path, including a cocktail waitress, whom he clocked right in the face. This quote from his inadvertent victim has always stuck with me: "It’s not the pain that hurts</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">what hurts is finding out one of your idols is a real asshole!</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">" </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">d like to think John was man enough to make things right with this woman (whom I believe filed a lawsuit) after he sobered up, but I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve never confirmed this.</span></span></em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve never met Ted Nugent in person, let alone ever been physically assaulted by him, but his constant assaults on my intelligence over the past few years have led me to the same conclusion that waitress came to: One of my (former) idols is a total dickhead. I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve written about this once or twice before on this blog, but after reading about Nugent</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s latest inane TV interview on CNN this week, I couldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t take it anymore. So I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve decided to author an open letter to His Humbleness…</span></span></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dearest Ted,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">How are you, man? I thought you'd be dead by now. And you're not even in jail, either</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">congratulations! We</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve never met before, but I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve been listening to your music for over 35 years now. I saw you on the tube again this week blathering away like you so often do. You declared, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">If you don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t enjoy my interviews, then you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re an idiot!</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">" </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">I guess that makes me a complete and total dumbass then, eh, Teddy? You know, there are times when I wish you had or would indulge in drugs and alcohol</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">it might chill you out a bit and make you more tolerable.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I gotta tell you, man, when I was 14, I really thought you were the shit. I idolized you. Hell, I fucking wanted to BE you! There was a point at which you were on the verge of replacing Kiss at the top of my Rock </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">N</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> Roll mountain around 1978-79. You won me over on </span><span style="font-size: small;"><em>Double Live Gonzo!</em></span><span style="font-size: small;"> when you hollered, "Anybody wants to get mellow, you can turn around and get the fuck outta here!" Your music was kick-ass, testosterony and perfectly-suited for adolescents like yours truly and your stage raps were classic: "This guitar can blow the balls of a charging rhino at 60 paces…"; "This is a love song</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">I wanna dedicate this to all that Nashville pussy…" You even made a big clunky old-school guitar like the Gibson Byrdland look cool to play. I even remember hearing about the time you played Kemper Arena and some knucklehead knocked one of your teeth out shooting BBs at you, yet you insisted on making sure each and every member of your road crew received their Christmas bonus before seeking medical attention—most honorable of you. Sure, you ran your mouth a lot back then too, but in those days it was humorous</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">rather endearing even</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">and fairly harmless. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I saw you in concert at Arrowhead in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">79, and you played your ass off, even with a badly sprained ankle</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">most admirable. The next year, you rocked Kemper again and withstood the challenge of your upstart opening acts Def Leppard and Scorpions. I coulda done without you in the loin cloth, but that</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s another issue. Opening for R.E.O. Speedwagon at Arrowhead in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">82, you got everybody united with </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Bound And Gagged</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">, which even won over a guy I worked with at the time who couldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t stand you up to that point. </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">You had a pretty good band backing you in the mid </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">70s, too, but I guess you couldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t bear to share the spotlight with a good-looking and talented singer/guitarist like Derek St. Holmes</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">you had to have all that backstage pussy for yourself, right, Nuge? Did you ever notice that your best records were the ones DSH sang and played on? Nah, didn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t think so.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then you got stupid. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Terminus Eldorado</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">? Dude, please. And what the fuck was that </span><span style="font-size: small;"><em>Intensities In 10 Cities</em></span><span style="font-size: small;"> tripe? </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">My Love (code for Dick) Is Like A Tire Iron</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">? </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> "</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">The Flying Lip-Lock</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">? We got it, Ted</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re an alpha-male—you didn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t have to keep shoving all your macho-bravado bullshit histrionics down our throats. And </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Jailbait</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">? You had one helluva nerve writing and singing a song like that when you own daughter was approaching her teens at the time. It went from bad to worse after that when you got desperate and borrowed Billy Squier</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s band for an album (</span><span style="font-size: small;"><em>Penetrator</em></span><span style="font-size: small;">) that had fucking synthesizers on it</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">you, Ted?!? Then you needed Bon Jovi and Sambora just to help you reach mediocrity on </span><em><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">f You Can</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t Lick </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Em, Lick </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Em</span></em><span style="font-size: small;"><em> </em>in 1988. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Dull</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> was never a term one could readily use to describe a Ted Nugent album until then. Since your own musical career was in the crapper, you found a lifeline of sorts with Damn Yankees for a few years. Two pretty decent albums resulted, but let</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s be honest, your contributions to them were fairly minimal</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Tommy Shaw and Jack Blades did all the heavy-lifting there</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">and seriously, you fit in with them about like David Lee Roth would with Toto or Survivor. Still, you surprised the shit out of me in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">95 with </span><span style="font-size: small;"><em>Spirit Of The Wild</em></span><span style="font-size: small;">, and I was so pleased to hear you taking your music seriously again, not to mention having Mr. St. Holmes back on board. I even liked that </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Fred Bear</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> tune, even though I don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t give a monkey</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s spleen about hunting. I might have known the good stuff wouldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t last long, tho… </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next time I caught up with you in concert was in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">99, and by then</span><span style="font-size: small;"> you'd gone over to the Dark Side. You got on this kick about </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Get out of America if you can</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t speak English,</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> which didn't have a fucking thing to do with the songs you were playing. These diatribes continued unabated when I saw you open for Kiss several times on their </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Farewell</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> Tour in 2000. And you kept going on and on about how "Janet Reno is an ugly whore." I'll agree, the woman gives Quasimodo and Joan Rivers (and her ugly-ass daughter) a run for their money, but why even bring it up? Dude, when I attend a concert, I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">m there to be entertained and rocked, not to be fed a bunch of radical right-wing political bullshit, let alone out-and-out racism and bigotry, and you unrepentantly crossed the line repeatedly. I also found it highly hypocritical that you continually maligned Hispanic people when your own bass player's last name at the time was Mendoza, yet you constantly referred to him as a "blood brother" anyway! Mendoza had every right to slam your nuts in a car door. Numerous times. Are you forgetting that your ancestors probably couldn’t speak English worth a damn when they landed on these shores either? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, but you didn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t stop there. As the Dubya Administration wore on, you sucked up to the Republican Party so you and your paranoid NRA buds could keep your precious guns, and your radical rants became more vitriolic and hateful as you added liberals, gays, welfare recipients, et al, as targets for your verbal Uzi as you talked out of your ass. You</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re entitled to your opinions, Ted, absolutely, but why does it always have to be about YOU? </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why do you continue to trash your own musical legacy? I have yet to reach the point where I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">m ready to burn your albums and CDs in my collection, and I still enjoy your music from back in the day, but it</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s becoming more difficult to listen to now, knowing what a low-life you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve devolved into. You</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve always been a mouth, but back in the day you could back it up. Now, you sound like a bigger whack-job than Glenn Beck (and THAT takes some doing!).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Just as an aside, you looked like a total fool wearing that Indian headdress on stage during "Great White Buffalo" during that period—it looked as if you were doing a bad Boy Scout campfire skit. And I gotta tell ya, <span style="font-size: small;">shooting a flaming arrow at a defenseless decoy guitar from ten feet away (you think I didn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t notice the roadie switch it out with the real one?) don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t impress me much. Even I could</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve nailed it from that distance, and my aim sucks like a Hoover upright most of the time.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While I have your attention, I have to say that you are full of shit about numerous topics. You once ripped on Paul McCartney for firing people from his road crew for eating meat</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">even though their contracts stipulated that to be on his crew, you had to be a vegan. Yet, you once boasted that you would ax anyone on your road crew that you even SUSPECTED of doing drugs or drinking alcohol. And tell me this, Mr. Conservative Christian Family Values</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">what</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s up with doinking that underage girl? I believe they call that pedophilia. Three out-of-wedlock children over a 30-year stretch? Shit, you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ve been slapped with more paternity suits than Hugh Grant</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">some family man you are! And you couldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t even be bothered to attend your own mother</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s funeral</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">what the fuck?!? And then there was your first wife, Sandra, who you basically drove to drink with all your infidelity and you referred to her death in a drunk-driving incident as a </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">human tragedy</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">. Did you bother to get the woman some professional help to get sober? I can</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t believe what a sucker I was when I fell for your song </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Alone</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">79 about your divorce from her and how broken-up you were</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">all the while, still craving </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">all that English pussy out there</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> (or Nashville, or whichever locale you preferred). Seems to me that Sandra's the one who was alone, Mr. Cock-Rocker. And I hate to bring this up again, but you got a lotta balls going around saluting our military these days when you were a draft dodger during Vietnam. Don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t get me wrong here</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">if I was 18 years old in the late </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">60s, I may well have done the same thing you did, but don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t be sucking up to the troops now with your hollow pseudo-patriotism. I once bought into your patriotism back when you did </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Bound And Gagged</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> in </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">82</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">you actually seemed sincere at the time. Now, not so much. I also think it</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s an insult to the troops that you wear those damn camouflage fatigues on stage.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As for your hunting and outdoorsy ventures, I couldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t care less. If you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re into bloodlust and that</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s your hobby, knock yourself out, but it</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s not my scene, sorry, Dude. And I don</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t give a flying fuck about guns. Have no use for them in my life. None. Zero. Nada. And don't try to tell me that I'm any less of a man just because I don't care to own firearms. Apart from maybe a "Star Trek" phaser or a light sabre from <em>Star Wars</em>, I have no desire for weaponry. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Other than your outrageousness that draws in ignorant viewers, I fail to see why the TV networks need to interview you in the first place. You</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re no longer relevant musically, haven</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t put out a decent record in nearly 20 years, and now you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re just an obnoxious big-mouth redneck bully who damns his own cause more than he aids it. Whenever you appear on Faux News Channel or CNN, etc., you know what I see, Ted? I see an insufferable, ignorant, inconsequential has-been who</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">s so desperate to keep his name in the papers that he</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">ll say anything inflammatory, regardless of who it hurts. There was a time when I would've walked the proverbial </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">mile for a Camel</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> to see you perform in concert. Today, I wouldn</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t even walk to my back porch to see you play (and I</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">d have your bigoted ass thrown off my property too). You</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re a real douche-bag, Ted. You aren</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">t quite in the same league with Rev. Fred Phelps and his merry band of Neolithic dipshits from Topeka, but you</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">re getting damn close. Does the phrase </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Shut up, and play yer guitar</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">"</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> mean anything to you? Guess not…</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the coolest things about Rock </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">‘</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">N</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">’</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> Roll music is it has the power to overcome the bullshit that even its own creators sometimes put forth and it makes you forget all about their pettiness, stupidity, arrogance, politics, etc., and you remember what drew you to those people in the first place. Gene Simmons pushes his luck constantly with me with his crass money-grubbing, but at least he's not near the bigoted jagoff you've become, Ted. I guess it’s a sign of my own personal growth that I’m able to sort through your B.S. and see you for who you really are now. There are/were plenty of assholes on the Rock music scene</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Eddie Van Halen, Glenn Frey, Axl Rose, Jim Morrison, Kid Rock, John Mellencamp, Phil Spector</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">but none of them have ever worked quite so hard to be an asshole the way you do. I can't think of any other person I've ever been a major fan of who I've completely turned on like I have with you, Nugent. Dude, if you're not going to take your music seriously anymore, the do us all a big favor and shut the hell up and return to the has-been celebrity scrap heap and rejoin the likes of Super Dave Osborn, Macaulay Culkin, Michael Richards, Downtown Julie Brown, Jane Fonda, Danny Bonaduce, Alan Thicke (oh wait</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">he's a never-was), Jenny McCarthy, Screech from "Saved By The Bell" (oops, another never-was!) and Wynonna Judd, et al. The world will be a better place...</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Yours truly,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brian</span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHD66e3E6CmH7vHsXoJhJc71AbsXgG_NOQ2IO0KlsVr877g-oABu6dRtzUa4RRWom3urqhqhJSG3mnhK1APJTd5zy7NyNfPPA7oqpWhCWgLJDisJn5PL6Sh9rOh6NrW09wSXGMwZf3nE/s1600/Ted+And+Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHD66e3E6CmH7vHsXoJhJc71AbsXgG_NOQ2IO0KlsVr877g-oABu6dRtzUa4RRWom3urqhqhJSG3mnhK1APJTd5zy7NyNfPPA7oqpWhCWgLJDisJn5PL6Sh9rOh6NrW09wSXGMwZf3nE/s320/Ted+And+Friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">P.S.: I found this old photo in a magazine a while back. What's up with all the gay-bashing when you appear to be gazing longingly at Andy Warhol while you have your arm around Truman Capote? Is there something you'd like to get "out" of your system, Ted? Too bad Andy and Tru are no longer around, but there's always Janet Reno...</span></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-74750341546135504892013-03-23T19:55:00.001-06:002013-05-27T10:10:36.668-06:00That Cat Named Hercules, Part II<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And now the conclusion of my countdown of Elton John longplayers...</span></em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_vy3BTZGKkatFcHkTBsi5uQDudGFcsE1K3MpBczIQsS2JSmxL3y3l4mSIPRigfB8Ll1KBHvS4O0UWe2U5aNN5UcoCmlmLXCkIQa98wlcW0804u6AUbga7GpDGVM-HD99H9NZ5SkCpO8/s1600/Reg_strikes_back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_vy3BTZGKkatFcHkTBsi5uQDudGFcsE1K3MpBczIQsS2JSmxL3y3l4mSIPRigfB8Ll1KBHvS4O0UWe2U5aNN5UcoCmlmLXCkIQa98wlcW0804u6AUbga7GpDGVM-HD99H9NZ5SkCpO8/s1600/Reg_strikes_back.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>17) REG STRIKES BACK (1988) C+</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Following EJ’s mid-‘80s <em>Ice On Fire/Leather Jackets</em> malaise and subsequent throat surgery, he re-emerged with <em>Reg Strikes Back</em>, sounding like his old self again on the hit single "I Don’t Wanna Go On With You Like That". The album also featured the minor hit "A Word In Spanish" and the sequel "Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters, Part II" as well as two fun cuts, the name-dropping "Goodbye Marlon Brando" ("Goodbye to <em>Rocky V, VI, VII</em> and <em>VIII</em>!" Elton sings) and a tribute to Brian Wilson, "Since God Invented Girls", which oddly coincided with the Beach Boys’ resurgence on the charts in the form of "Kokomo" in the fall of ’88. Hardly Elton’s greatest album ever, but not too shabby, either, and <em>way</em> better than his previous two.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DZv-q1oTb_XGBMbIrT6OIv7Uaa1OJmhMKisgkhFYKN-72B_UcLvbHQFzLy4FVAgFTUWRN-bbKr5eZDgmoJUNDWVuKlsIJjFTKHbCrVVqnbzVR-DaQwfGAzugaQYGCrhSg2BGOvafbew/s1600/Elton_John_-_Elton_John.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DZv-q1oTb_XGBMbIrT6OIv7Uaa1OJmhMKisgkhFYKN-72B_UcLvbHQFzLy4FVAgFTUWRN-bbKr5eZDgmoJUNDWVuKlsIJjFTKHbCrVVqnbzVR-DaQwfGAzugaQYGCrhSg2BGOvafbew/s1600/Elton_John_-_Elton_John.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>16) ELTON JOHN (1970) B-</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The biggest difference between Elton's debut LP <em>Empty Sky</em> and<em> </em>sophomore effort <em>Elton John</em> is the songs were a bit more memorable, and most of them were backed by conductor Paul Buckmaster’s orchestral arrangements. Elton and Bernie placed themselves on the map for good here with their stellar signature composition, the enduring (and endearing) "Your Song". "Take Me To The Pilot" is another landmark Elton track, in spite of Bernie’s obtuse lyrics. "Through the glass eye of your throne is the one danger zone" fits in the same vein as Kiss’ "Get up and get your grandma outta here…" (from "Deuce"): i.e., lyrics that SOUND really cool when you sing them, but don’t make a lick of sense! "Sixty Years On" is dark and depressing, all about a lonely old man, "Border Song" takes on racism, and Elton takes a crack at Country music in "No Shoestrings On Louise" (or "Lou-WAYS" as he "sangs" it here). While not Elton’s true debut album, this is the snowball that started the avalanche…</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsxueKyJgb2uVeSl0kiBk1PV6WXh8aOgJ9Q-TmXuVFv_-u32Mahk9yk5PgYwpBKD7OfLtOM6ml0hlySWf8zkp2mKGn8ThAT81F_W5eJyNAdwkR7PHbx6hPm8HFlwI5F4n0QuGy8A6vsg/s1600/Elton_John_-_Caribou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQsxueKyJgb2uVeSl0kiBk1PV6WXh8aOgJ9Q-TmXuVFv_-u32Mahk9yk5PgYwpBKD7OfLtOM6ml0hlySWf8zkp2mKGn8ThAT81F_W5eJyNAdwkR7PHbx6hPm8HFlwI5F4n0QuGy8A6vsg/s1600/Elton_John_-_Caribou.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>15) CARIBOU (1974) B-</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This record was the unfortunate victim of overly-high expectations and had the unenviable task of following one of the more mammoth and iconic albums in Rock history, thus it was unmercifully slagged by critics and fans alike. Honestly, anything Elton would’ve put out on the heels of <em>Yellow Brick Road</em> would’ve been viewed as a letdown (even say, <em>Don’t Shoot Me</em> or <em>Honky Chateau</em>), thus I have a soft spot for <em>Caribou</em>, and have always thought it got short-shrifted. It probably also didn’t help the perception of <em>Caribou</em> that the album’s cover photo and inside sleeve art/photography were extremely bland and Spartan compared to its elaborate above-and-beyond-the-call predecessor. But you certainly can’t fault its lead-off cut, "The Bitch Is Back", one of my all-time favorite songs by anyone, period (not just Elton), as I’ve always been keen on songs with profanity in them! The next track, a love song named "Pinky", is way more romantic than the overrated (in my opinion) "Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me", which yielded <em>Caribou</em> its biggest hit. Other tracks I liked include the rollicking "You’re So Static", which closed out Side 1 (back when albums had sides, remember, kids?) and "I’ve Seen The Saucers"—sort of "Rocket Man—Episode II", as well as the goofy "Solar Prestige A Gammon", a silly attempt at nonsense Italian-sounding lyrics (a la The Beatles’ "Sun King") that could pass as the backing track on some European TV deodorant commercial. Granted, there were clunkers on <em>Caribou</em>, namely "Stinker", (which lives up to its title while Elton tries to sing Da Blooz) and the hap-hazard "Grimsby", which could’ve stood a bit more fleshing out. Two other tracks from <em>Caribou</em> have resurfaced on Elton’s concert set list over the years, "Dixie Lily", a fun and twangy salute to the Mississippi Delta, and the poignant, chilling (and TOTALLY underrated) "Ticking", which closes the record. Featuring Elton soloing on piano, and a hint of Dave Hentschel’s synthesizer underneath, "Ticking" vividly captures the sad tale of a tortured soul who goes on a shooting spree that presages Columbine, Virginia Tech and the more recent Aurora and Sandy Hook tragedies. I still defend <em>Caribou</em> to this day—it could’ve been better, sure, but it isn’t nearly as bad as everyone thinks.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sfOqQNFJrvTrVjTDtIjofry0RUGC61TyY24wEkJtFD-0MU79QZeqNMtp-MeIcHOJsCqjxY-zqn7YeOFn5XgpsSRzA_7KyCAJX_GQWwEX8cA1OF4YLqB0BbRmk0M8ATQSqdBw6_HUbIk/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Here_and_There.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sfOqQNFJrvTrVjTDtIjofry0RUGC61TyY24wEkJtFD-0MU79QZeqNMtp-MeIcHOJsCqjxY-zqn7YeOFn5XgpsSRzA_7KyCAJX_GQWwEX8cA1OF4YLqB0BbRmk0M8ATQSqdBw6_HUbIk/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Here_and_There.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>14) HERE AND THERE (1976) B- for the original (A for the 1995 re-issue) </strong></span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Viewed by critics at the time as strictly a contractual obligation release in ‘76, <em>Here And There</em> was Elton’s first live concert album to feature his entire backing band, drummer Nigel Olsson, bassist Dee Murray, guitarist Davey Johnstone and percussionist Ray Cooper. And it’s pretty good stuff, for the most part. Side 1 (<em>Here</em>) features cuts from a May, 1974 London concert in front of the Royal Family and Side 2 (<em>There</em>) was recorded on Thanksgiving of ’74 in front of the Royal Crazies at Madison Square Garden in Gotham City. Although the recording is a bit flat-sounding (esp. on the MSG side), we get a fair taste of what Captain Fantastic sounded like performing his big hits in concert during his heyday. Too bad it was ONLY a taste. Imagine if they had fleshed things out and released a state-of-the-art double-live album in 1976 instead. I think it would’ve given <em>Kiss Alive!, </em>Bob Seger's <em>Live Bullet </em>and <em>Frampton Comes Alive!</em> a run for their money. Well, that wrong was partially righted 19 years later when Polygram re-issued H&T as an expanded double-CD with more tracks from both concerts, including the monumental three-song mini-set EJ played with John Lennon at The Garden ("Whatever Gets You Through The Night", "Lucy In The Sky" and "I Saw Her Standing There"), forever documenting what turned out to be the JL’s final performance on a concert stage. Other gems on the expanded version include "Grey Seal" from <em>Yellow Brick Road</em>, "Country Comfort" and "Burn Down The Mission" from <em>Tumbleweed Connection</em> and "You’re So Static" from <em>Caribou</em> (backed by the Muscle Shoals Horns) as well as classics which were omitted from the original vinyl release like "The Bitch Is Back", "Daniel" and "Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting". Hearing these makes me wish I’d been old enough to attended concerts (I was only ten at the time) so I could’ve seen and heard Elton in his prime.</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3pJOitq1l5c07t7hHFtKAozdfBVFjbNBBKPwcZQigCaG7Dvdx_EZsLqIl42nQcNVNEXHnBXlp7iepa322lMZWA2stLFVnv4gah1AedlqbBA9tRbKh6IBZAMrxvVTGBqZFdzG_XaRVPI/s1600/Too_low_for_zero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY3pJOitq1l5c07t7hHFtKAozdfBVFjbNBBKPwcZQigCaG7Dvdx_EZsLqIl42nQcNVNEXHnBXlp7iepa322lMZWA2stLFVnv4gah1AedlqbBA9tRbKh6IBZAMrxvVTGBqZFdzG_XaRVPI/s1600/Too_low_for_zero.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>13) TOO LOW FOR ZERO (1983) B-</strong> </span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Elton John completed the major comeback he embarked on in 1980 with 1983’s <em>Too Low For Zero</em>, which featured his biggest hits in over five years, the defiant declaration "I’m Still Standing" and the whimsical "I Guess That’s Why They Call It The Blues" (the videos for both of which turned out to be among his the best he’s ever done). The title track was also a minor hit, as was the rocking "Kiss The Bride", which even garnered some well-deserved airplay on Album Rock radio. Another cut I really liked is "Religion", which takes a little jab at the hypocrisy of people who are religious only when it’s convenient for them—"She’s a working girl who loves the Lord", "He still drinks, but he does believe…", etc. TLFZ also features a guest cameo appearance by Stevie Wonder on harmonica on "Cold As Christmas (In The Middle Of The Year)". Welcome back, Reg, we missed you!</span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglefxMtFQ7z_Rt5gaWgUJoiJtAG70Rolza1YXtevtYc57l6qTFMhT2mLB2X_f00kkkPq_HSplkzzmye__quCktFb7CnCr8O22hOTh7z0Gaf_5NQBN6vkhPS-A_gS38A_mrTdy9mEBd-bc/s1600/220px-Jump_Up_EJ_Album.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglefxMtFQ7z_Rt5gaWgUJoiJtAG70Rolza1YXtevtYc57l6qTFMhT2mLB2X_f00kkkPq_HSplkzzmye__quCktFb7CnCr8O22hOTh7z0Gaf_5NQBN6vkhPS-A_gS38A_mrTdy9mEBd-bc/s1600/220px-Jump_Up_EJ_Album.jpg" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>12) JUMP UP! (1982) B-</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before that big comeback was complete, Elton took a major leap forward on 1982’s <em>Jump Up!,</em> which I remember slightly more fondly than <em>Too Low</em>, mostly because ’82 was the year I first saw EJ in concert, and he played numerous cuts from this one at Starlight Theater that night. <em>Jump Up!</em> was also significant in that Elton righted a very egregious wrong by reuniting on record with his old rhythm section of Nigel Olsson and Dee Murray, whom he inexplicably jettisoned from the band in 1976—</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">the </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">biggest brain fart of E. John’s career</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> this side of <em>Victim Of Love</em></span></span><span style="font-size: small;">, in my opinion. Guitarist Davey Johnstone returned as well for the subsequent tour ("after a little while playing with other biggies—like Meat Loaf," as Elton quipped onstage) and for the first time over six years, EJ put out a very focused and consistent effort here. Which is why I find Bernie Taupin’s 2010 comments on it rather baffling, as he called <em>Jump Up!</em> "one of our worst albums…it's a terrible, awful, disposable album, but it had 'Empty Garden' on it, so it's worth it for that one song." Then again, Taupin only co-wrote about half of this album with Elton, and apart from "Garden" and "Where Have All The Good Times Gone?", the weaker tracks were Bernie’s, while Gary Osborne co-authored the snappy opening cut "Dear John", the upbeat "Ball And Chain" (featuring one Peter Dennis Blandford Townshend guesting on acoustic guitar) and the sultry "Blue Eyes", a fine make-out song if there ever was one. "Empty Garden" was the centerpiece of the record, and was far and away the best and most poignant of all the John Lennon tribute songs, blowing away George Harrison’s "All Those Years Ago", Queen’s "Life Is Real (Song For Lennon)" and Paul McCartney’s "Here Today". Sorry Bernie, you’re full of shit—this was a damn good album.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">[While I’m on the subject, I have a pet peeve about how on every Elton album since the mid-‘80s, their work is credited as "Music by Elton John/Lyrics by Taupin". That one-name crap sounds so damn snobby! Beethoven and Chopin might've gotten away with this, but you're still plain ol’ Bernie to me, Bud. But I digress…]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDn-_EvyAGwgp3CNXHlLgLk15NG0xFTdxh5zD0RaC_nblBAqlzeqGnC0GDgEkenWxgj5kwSx10Yvt3i9Bxtt6j9_FGGGwhhefGePIswpa_H_GOswdX5vpVXx_XOzMU0-6nEmOL1sfW0s/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Tumbleweed_Connection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkDn-_EvyAGwgp3CNXHlLgLk15NG0xFTdxh5zD0RaC_nblBAqlzeqGnC0GDgEkenWxgj5kwSx10Yvt3i9Bxtt6j9_FGGGwhhefGePIswpa_H_GOswdX5vpVXx_XOzMU0-6nEmOL1sfW0s/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Tumbleweed_Connection.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>11) TUMBLEWEED CONNECTION (1971) B-</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Elton and Bernie continued with the highly-orchestral sound they utilized on the <em>Elton John</em> album, but made things a bit more up-tempo and even added some Country twang to create one of the more unconventional (and underrated) Rock albums of the early ‘70s. Olsson and Murray were now the official rhythm section on <em>Tumbleweed</em>, although session musicians were used throughout once again like on its predecessor, as was Paul Buckmaster’s string arrangements. Backing vocals on some songs were provided by my girl Dusty Springfield, as well as prolific utility man Tony Burrows, whose lead voice appeared on hit singles throughout the early ‘70s by Edison Lighthouse, First Class, the Pipkins, White Plains and Brotherhood Of Man. The songs on TC are a bit more interesting than that the ones on <em>Elton John</em>, which is why I rated it higher, especially Side 2, which leads off with the underrated gem "Where To Now, St. Peter?", featuring one of my favorite Bernie lyrics "I may not be a Christian, but I’ve done all one man can…". Next up is a cult favorite amongst longtime EJ fans, "Love Song", written (and harmonized) by Lesley Duncan, and I’ve always wondered why this wasn’t a hit single—it would’ve been the logical follow-up to "Your Song". The somewhat trippy "Amoreena" follows, and then we’re treated to the pseudo sequel to "Sixty Years On" with "Talking Old Soldiers", where Elton half-sings/half-speaks both parts of a bar room conversation about not growing old gracefully and being forgotten. An early EJ classic, "Burn Down The Mission", climaxes the album with some rollicking piano-pounding following its mid-tempo verses and choruses. Oh, and Side 1 didn’t suck either, featuring songs about fathers and guns (one at the same time, "My Father’s Gun") as it explored Bernie’s infatuation with the American old West and the Confederacy. It was clear by this time that EJ and BT were well on their way…</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQRhl-i7ElLWyqqbZ2OF5kn1IDTnaVr3oM29BE2MOj4raE9I7bNM45bzgL8qPhUczIpgNgnqSySMq346UD-Y5MxRDJHKIV-rsLsKT8SGyPcihWuAuQFOmmcvFZOyhdW9oRWFIyDzfnNM/s1600/220px-Sir_John_Elton_Was_Made_In_England.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAQRhl-i7ElLWyqqbZ2OF5kn1IDTnaVr3oM29BE2MOj4raE9I7bNM45bzgL8qPhUczIpgNgnqSySMq346UD-Y5MxRDJHKIV-rsLsKT8SGyPcihWuAuQFOmmcvFZOyhdW9oRWFIyDzfnNM/s1600/220px-Sir_John_Elton_Was_Made_In_England.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>10) MADE IN ENGLAND (1995) B</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">To date, this is the last really solid album from start-to-finish that Elton has put out (in my opinion), and it built upon the momentum created by his 1992 drug-free return to form, <em>The One</em>. Still stone-cold sober, our good Captain opens the proceedings with "Believe", a dramatic, epic-sounding song that harkens back to the days of "Levon" with its powerful orchestral arrangement. Next up, the title track is both proud and defiant, and more or less a sequel to 1983’s "I’m Still Standing", and I loved the positive attitude, not to mention Davey Johnstone’s guitar, which we hear quite a bit of throughout the album. While I could’ve done without Elton and Bernie’s rather pointless (and contrived) gambit of single-word titles on all the songs except "Made In England", there’s plenty of good stuff here, particularly "Pain", which sonically resembles the Stones’ "Happy", and features Elton conducting a musical interview with Pain itself ("What’s your name?"/"My name is Pain"…"How</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> old are you?</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">"/"Nineteen-hundred and 94 years…"). "Lies" takes inventory of who doesn’t tell the truth and why—"I’ve lied for a drug or two…"—and "Please" is one of EJ’s more underrated love songs. There are a couple of clunkers here, like "House" ("This is my house/This is my floor", etc.)—come on, Bernie, you’re better than this! Thankfully, he didn’t get to "This is my toilet." The closing cut, "Blessed" turned out to be a minor hit, but it served as an omen that Elton was about to slip back into comfortable rut territory again, and sure enough, he did so on his next album <em>The Big Picture</em>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDQ3ABcMTN7tW9AgOQrJuror6JEBeoIcgRn2TtlMjWquCKXBe0q4az8XCl614mgRYt5dfc8-oh1XFa-S9fo357WarMWDPNGq0_n2BryTzx-dra7ZBbLA_qF2F5vq_FX5LMvQkWhfA54I/s1600/Breaking_hearts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDQ3ABcMTN7tW9AgOQrJuror6JEBeoIcgRn2TtlMjWquCKXBe0q4az8XCl614mgRYt5dfc8-oh1XFa-S9fo357WarMWDPNGq0_n2BryTzx-dra7ZBbLA_qF2F5vq_FX5LMvQkWhfA54I/s1600/Breaking_hearts.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>9) BREAKING HEARTS (1984) B</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Elton’s ‘80s comeback continued with yet another solid effort in 1984, <em>Breaking Hearts</em>, which features the classic Elton John Band of Johnstone/Olsson/Murray one last time. "Restless" leads off and got a fair amount of airplay on Album Rock stations, and I can easily identify with the line, "Everybody’s searching for something that just…ain't…there" in terms of my personal life. "Who Wears These Shoes?" was a catchy single, and "Slow Down Georgie (She’s Poison)" could’ve been one too. The silliest track on BH was "Passengers" with its call-and-response mob vocals, but I always liked it. I especially liked two others that were opposite ends of the spectrum—"Li’l Frigerator", a punchy rocker that sounded even better live in concert in ’84, and "In Neon", a slow and dramatic ballad that should’ve been a hit. The song that WAS a big hit, "Sad Songs (Say So Much)" didn’t really honk my hooter that much, and really lost its luster with me when the Sasson jeans people commandeered the song for their TV commercials ("Sasson says so much"—oy!). Overall, though, <em>Breaking Hearts </em>is good stuff.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH8lxKPuTAJ4sF6p6OdvzPENlVjaIk3oMLAbnOcUThbewG2gcrw2wqM0nzD9ZvdcxAxV7cFKUua2ecm16qVfR28o4-S5WSh2ZoYPa7tQ8F-V2Q2X3MvLJTEfl587KGXfSyVAhsTXhESo/s1600/11-17-70.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMH8lxKPuTAJ4sF6p6OdvzPENlVjaIk3oMLAbnOcUThbewG2gcrw2wqM0nzD9ZvdcxAxV7cFKUua2ecm16qVfR28o4-S5WSh2ZoYPa7tQ8F-V2Q2X3MvLJTEfl587KGXfSyVAhsTXhESo/s1600/11-17-70.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>8</strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>) 11-17-70 (1971) B</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">An</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">other EJ release the critics bashed (but since when do I care what they think?), this one makes my Top 10 on pure chutzpah alone. When Elton first hit this side of the Big Pond in late 1970, he toured only with Nigel Olsson and Dee Murray, almost two years before Davey Johnstone rounded out the classic Elton John Band. Piano, bass and drums made for an odd musical combo indeed, but this unlikely power trio somehow made it work (and STILL rocked out, no less) throughout that tour, including a stop at New York’s A&R Studios to play a live radio concert that went out nationwide on November 17, 1970. The Dynamic Trio almost brought the house down for the hundred or so assembled, playing nearly 90 minutes, half of which was included on this album that originally was never intended for release. Elton himself was loathe to put it out at the time (although he has</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> since</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> praised it in retrospect), but MCA/Uni Records was getting paranoid about bootlegs of the show reaching the market, so they released <em>11-17-70</em> (or <em>17-11-70</em>, for those of you who drive on the wrong side of the road) in the spring of ’71, almost literally on the heels of <em>Tumbleweed Connection</em> and the <em>Friends</em> soundtrack and while "Your Song" was still hanging around the Top 40, creating a sudden glut of E. John product. Surprisingly, "Your Song" wasn’t included in<em> 11-17-70</em>, but the obscure "Bad Side Of The Moon" made up for that, as did "Can I Put You On?" (from<em> Friends</em>), and it blows its studio version away. So does "Sixty Years On", which I thought actually sounded more dramatic without the strings on the studio version. Humor was evident in EJ’s cover of the Stones’ "Honky Tonk Women" on Side 1, as well as Arthur Crudup’s "My Baby Left Me" sandwiched inside the medley on Side 2 that begins with a killer rendition of "Burn Down The Mission" and ends with The Beatles’ "Get Back". "Amoreena" was added as a bonus track to a CD re-issue in the mid-‘90s, but the rest of show has not been made available (to my knowledge). I’d love to hear the rest of it someday. It’s a fun show to listen to, and a crucial document of Mr. John’s early days—if he went down that well with an audience then, just imagine what adding a guitar player would do. Oh, wait, we don’t have to!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3Dd3z9aKzrZEDNk9rE7vKwquVZDKGMvy829FJI-jR7lXvKBDdqjdsV8xWdznjUL3Ju8jYVLtez8YBF9w9B0m766KVn9JewJzfhrvdNywhUd-HqeL1r16ip_mdI4EVrRuiWtsfGsMBHU/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Rock_of_the_Westies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3Dd3z9aKzrZEDNk9rE7vKwquVZDKGMvy829FJI-jR7lXvKBDdqjdsV8xWdznjUL3Ju8jYVLtez8YBF9w9B0m766KVn9JewJzfhrvdNywhUd-HqeL1r16ip_mdI4EVrRuiWtsfGsMBHU/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Rock_of_the_Westies.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>7</strong></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>) ROCK OF THE WESTIES (1975) B</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">According to the <em>His Song</em> book by Elizabeth Rosenthal, it seems that Elton and the boys were a little drunky-wunky and/or high on various substances at Colorado’s Caribou Ranch during the making of <em>Westies</em>, thus leading the author to declare it to be a substandard EJ album. I would beg to differ—not unlike <em>Caribou</em>, I think this one gets dissed far too much and I always liked it. If it’s true that the record was made under a cloud of drugs and booze, then it turned out amazingly well. Elton expressed a desire to work with other musicians at that point, hence his dim-witted (in my opinion) decision to dismiss Nigel Olsson and Dee Murray from the band. Nigel was looking to build a solo career at the time anyway, so it was no biggie for him, but Murray was understandably none too pleased at being kicked to the curb for no good reason. To replace them, Elton brought in drummer Roger Pope (who worked previously on <em>Empty Sky, Elton John</em> and <em>Tumbleweed</em>), and bassist Kenny Passarelli (who suddenly found himself unemployed when Joe Walsh joined The Eagles in late ’75) as his new rhythm section. Guitarist Caleb Quaye (also a previous contributor to Elton’s early records) and keyboardist James Newton Howard came aboard as well, joining holdovers Davey Johnstone and Ray Cooper, and this lineup would return for <em>Blue Moves</em> before Elton again "split the band", as a certain song goes.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As for the album itself, like <em>Captain Fantastic</em> before it, <em>Westies </em>wasn’t chuck-full of hit singles, but I thought it had some fun stuff on it anyway. "Island Girl" actually did hit #1, but that had more to do with the inertia of Elton’s career than the merits of the song. It’s not a bad song at all, mind you, but hasn’t aged very well, and you don’t even hear it on Oldies stations anymore. The opening track, "Medley: Yell Help/Wednesday Night/Ugly", was rather oddball, but has its moments, as does "Dan Dare (Pilot Of The Future)" with its double-entendre lyric, "Holy Cow—my stars never saw a rocket that quite that size…" (silly Elton!). The next two tracks that finish out Side 1 are my favorites from ROTW, despite being polar opposites. "Grow Some Funk Of Your Own" features a snarly guitar riff and Ray Cooper on vibes and marimba throughout the end of this tale about a night of misadventure south of the border. Meanwhile perhaps the most underrated John-Taupin song ever, "I Feel Like A Bullet (In The Gun Of Robert Ford)", finds Elton wailing away in falsetto mode on some of Bernie’s most poignant and sad lyrics about a relationship turned sour ("Like a child when his toys have been stepped on/That’s how it all seems to me…"), while Davey’s beautifully weepy guitar solo further emphasizes the despair. Robert Ford, btw, is the man who shot legendary outlaw Jesse James, hence the title. Side 2 opens when one of Elton’s heavier tunes, "Street Kids", featuring his skittering keyboard flashes laid over Johnstone and Quaye’s guitar chords. "Hard Luck Story" is all about a frustrated working stiff and features backing vocals from Kiki Dee and company. "Feed Me" continues the general theme of desperation found on ‘Westies’ that "Robert Ford" initiates, and the album closes with the spirited (if not non-sensical) "Billy Bones And The White Bird". Critics were generally not keen to ‘Westies’, but it’s one of my favorites from Elton, thus it makes my Top 10.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aiXsQaLWUTHxuNTslj6BPdl_y6r-F4G_4ypmbT3-9s4tREONTAKCV7QvY1w1uCAwkSPhOzqEUFaS0n-lE87DAtShMy7qeCjMmwpOBVzt4ZzAoveQ-W4N3bWwJq2FNxAgRKGzwLFzz_k/s1600/Elton_John_-_The_One_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3aiXsQaLWUTHxuNTslj6BPdl_y6r-F4G_4ypmbT3-9s4tREONTAKCV7QvY1w1uCAwkSPhOzqEUFaS0n-lE87DAtShMy7qeCjMmwpOBVzt4ZzAoveQ-W4N3bWwJq2FNxAgRKGzwLFzz_k/s1600/Elton_John_-_The_One_cover.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>6) THE ONE (1992) B+</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After several years of inconsistent albums, drug abuse and throat issues, Elton Hercules John was born-again hard for easily his best studio album since his mid-’70s heyday, <em>The One</em>. Gone were any hints of a comfortable rut—each song sounded different from the others, as EJ rediscovered his musical scrotum and put out something truly memorable for a change. The sultry "Simple Life" kicks things off with a slinky bass groove (provided by future Who bassist Pino Palladino), and some fine harmonica as clean-and-sober, fit-and-trim Elton brings us up to speed on where his life was headed at that point. It’s not a bad make-out song, btw, and one almost wishes EJ had stretched this one out a bit longer than five minutes. The title track immediately follows, and is one of his best love songs ever. Eric Clapton makes a guest appearance on another of the album’s highlights, duetting on "Runaway Train", giving one of his better vocal efforts that I can recall. The twangy "Whitewash County" would’ve fit right in on <em>Tumbleweed Connection</em> (or maybe even the <em>My Cousin Vinny</em> soundtrack), as it takes a pot shot at redneck authority figure hypocrisy in that part of the U.S. where it’s "sticky as a chili-dog". The title subject of "Emily" is sort of a ’90s "Eleanor Rigby" (minus the cellos) and "The North" is a bit of an overlooked gem, all about how most everyone has vices they need to overcome. The album closes, appropriately, with the touching and poignant "The Last Song", all about a </span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">gay </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">man dying of AIDS and reconciling with his estranged dad, and Bernie Taupin drives the point home with the line "I guess I misjudged love between a father and his son." Well done, indeed.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7icNz2AB4GtdoKOpJIPA614CkeqVfKMghG_EcmLxh74NiGwkIcFhRNEarYV7pRhs8vfPVLx86kz0nl20OQja240SDopOamaqYCI4pnvOOxYcDjoiVKf1qLgxukRqKUZapM9QhpwdPrA/s1600/ELTON_~24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7icNz2AB4GtdoKOpJIPA614CkeqVfKMghG_EcmLxh74NiGwkIcFhRNEarYV7pRhs8vfPVLx86kz0nl20OQja240SDopOamaqYCI4pnvOOxYcDjoiVKf1qLgxukRqKUZapM9QhpwdPrA/s1600/ELTON_~24.JPG" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4) [Tie] HONKY CHATEAU (1972) A-</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">El</span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">ton John’s unprecedented mid-‘70s chart dominance truly began with <em>Honky Chateau</em> in the spring of ’72. This was also the first album on which the nucleus of Johnstone, Olsson and Murray played predominately, and HC of course includes the big hits "Honky Cat" and "Rocket Man". Both great songs and among Elton’s most-beloved, but as good as those were, I’m even more partial to the "B-stuff" found on <em>Honky</em>, like "I Think I’m Gonna Kill Myself", the funniest song I’ve ever heard about suicide (right up there with John Entwistle’s "Thinkin’ It Over" and Cheap Trick's "Auf Wiedersehen"), and the equally-funny and more-romping "Hercules", which closes the album ("Rich man, sweatin’ in a sauna bath/Poor boy, scrubbin’ in a tub…"). Elton continued to express his love for Country twang on "Slave", and followed it with the rocking "Amy", which features a guest appearance by Jean-Luc Ponty and his electric violin (I never knew there was such an animal), as does the mellow "Mellow" on Side One. The slower songs on this album actually work just as well as the rockers, with "Mona Lisas And Mad Hatters" painting a rather bleak portrait of Gotham City as viewed through the eyes of a</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> first-time visitor</span></span><span style="font-size: small;"> (B. Taupin, in this case) and the Gospel-tinged "Salvation" features some outstanding backing vocals. The avalanche had begun…</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60UDh2X0YPfmwpS3uyrTNwOHr9LX_RotP3sBmJoVvvaLt_llh7A1DHh_X07dwBUf2ecXQZnJOroho2mH2ZDvsVxLhMiXGYpATlMBdqG-pJjQlvcoCFR6F8tPtHCVVI0QnOTG06qAY8SE/s1600/Elton_John_-_Madman_Across_the_Water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj60UDh2X0YPfmwpS3uyrTNwOHr9LX_RotP3sBmJoVvvaLt_llh7A1DHh_X07dwBUf2ecXQZnJOroho2mH2ZDvsVxLhMiXGYpATlMBdqG-pJjQlvcoCFR6F8tPtHCVVI0QnOTG06qAY8SE/s1600/Elton_John_-_Madman_Across_the_Water.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4) [Tie] MADMAN ACROSS THE WATER (1971) A-</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before <em>Honky</em>, there was <em>Madman</em>, which is every bit as good, but just didn’t sell quite as much. I couldn’t choose which one I like better, so it’s a flat-footed tie. MATW was the last time Elton relied heavily on Paul Buckmaster’s orchestral arrangements for a while, and this album wouldn’t have been as good without them. Elton also continued the new trend he initiated on <em>Tumbleweed</em> by including an elaborate lyric and photo booklet. As with <em>Honky</em>, you had the two big and well-loved Elton hits ("Levon" and "Tiny Dancer"), both of which I like as much as anyone, but it’s the B-stuff again that I like even more here. "Holiday Inn" may well be the penultimate Rock ‘N’ Roll road song ("Boston, at last, and the plane’s touchin’ down/From a terminal gate, to a black limousine …You ain’t seen nothin’, ‘till you been in a motel, baby, like a Holiday Inn…"). "HI" marked Davey Johnstone’s debut on an E. John record, playing mandolin on the track, and I love the way after the choruses how Buckmaster’s strings and Elton’s piano sound almost like on-coming semi-trucks passing by on the highway. The dramatic "Indian Sunet" opens Side Two with an epic tale of tragedy and further exploration of the American Old West, which fascinated Bernie Taupin no end. "Rotten Peaches" almost has you picturing Reg Dwight as some sort of fugitive from justice, and the haunting "All The Nasties" takes dead aim at music critics and journalists "But I know the way they want me</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> i</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">n the way they publicize/If they could turn their focus off/To the image in their eyes/Maybe it would help them, help them understand…" And then of course, there's the brooding and spooky title track. About the only track that didn’t work for me here was the brief postscript "Goodbye", which seemed like a throwaway afterthought a la The Beatles' "Her Majesty" on <em>Abbey Road</em>.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpd7Hj5zWFk0s-TaQJ-qLR0C7I9cQxIVfENgtuYpQt4u8rACst8XnC_QVFgUQcJ89TPCzGImxv6VDHyG0CjY40tXpw3lySpUteS66jN41r_Y318nUbn2ShOy3LgYJ_PC7mtCBLsvGwHY/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Don't_Shoot_Me_I'm_Only_the_Piano_Player.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpd7Hj5zWFk0s-TaQJ-qLR0C7I9cQxIVfENgtuYpQt4u8rACst8XnC_QVFgUQcJ89TPCzGImxv6VDHyG0CjY40tXpw3lySpUteS66jN41r_Y318nUbn2ShOy3LgYJ_PC7mtCBLsvGwHY/s1600/220px-Elton_John_-_Don't_Shoot_Me_I'm_Only_the_Piano_Player.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>3) DON’T SHOOT ME, I’M ONLY THE PIANO PLAYER (1973) A</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Possessing one of my favorite album titles and covers ever, this one rated high with me before I ever heard a note from it. Just as with <em>Madman </em>and<em> Honky</em> before it, the "B-stuff" is every bit as good as the "A-stuff" ("Crocodile Rock" and "Daniel"), and so much of this album is underrated, especially "Teacher, I Need You", "Elderberry Wine", "Midnight Creeper", "Have Mercy On The Criminal" and the closer "High-Flying Bird". Elton thought highly enough of these cuts to dust some of them off and play them in concert over the years, like "Teacher" in 1982, "Criminal" in 1986 and "High-Flying" in 2007—that shows how DEEP this man’s catalog goes. "Teacher" is the upbeat tale of a schoolboy crush on a hot teacher (I think we all had those at least once), while "Elderberry" is a fun salute to alcohol—the cause of (and solution to) all of life’s problems. In "Creeper", EJ does a little name-dropping ("Tina Turner gave me the highway blues…") and keeps his mind in the gutter throughout the track, which is one of the hornier Elton songs (musically, I mean) of all-time. "Criminal" begins with a dramatic orchestral flourish featuring some call-and-response between the strings and Elton’s piano before settling down to become a mid-tempo sequel to "Rotten Peaches", all about another convict on the lam. One of the prettiest and most moving songs Elton has ever done is "High-Flying Bird", all about grief and loss ("My high-flying bird has flown from out my arms…"), and it features some of the finest backing vocals ever from Davey, Dee and Nigel—I’m not sure why this song isn’t held in higher regard. The sitar-laden "Blues For Baby And Me" has actually grown on me over the years (even though I loathe sitars), as has "I’ll Be A Teenage Idol". About the only cut that didn’t work for me on <em>Don’t Shoot Me</em> is "Texan Love Song", which is anything but a love song. DSMIOTPP was released 40 years ago last month—amazing how fresh it still sounds today. But as good as it is, Elton’s next release was even better…</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotXEt1P2MwgpjqqItMazRW_iVMveE0t5eSUtkdP4XPSpCMhmwupGXeZlZMe8k3Fb9lxV9J6S6uBFIC5ABmoj4x3k2omNXCVSfIhwuPiW7eGxQIy3cLZKO0GNSYSf4BY_1pnwffOn92J4/s1600/Elton_John_-_Captain_Fantastic_and_the_Brown_Dirt_Cowboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgotXEt1P2MwgpjqqItMazRW_iVMveE0t5eSUtkdP4XPSpCMhmwupGXeZlZMe8k3Fb9lxV9J6S6uBFIC5ABmoj4x3k2omNXCVSfIhwuPiW7eGxQIy3cLZKO0GNSYSf4BY_1pnwffOn92J4/s1600/Elton_John_-_Captain_Fantastic_and_the_Brown_Dirt_Cowboy.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2) CAPTAIN FANTASTIC & THE BROWN DIRT COWBOY (1975) A</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Not so long ago on MSNBC’s website, they had a feature called "The Worst Album By Great Artists" (or something like that), and <em>Captain Fantastic</em> was Elton’s entry for it. Then some fool writes three paragraphs of excrement about how bad it was. Surely, you jest. I have no doubt that person was born after the record came out and probably never even took the time to listen to it. True, CF&TBDC wasn’t chuck-full of hits like Mr. John’s previous efforts—only "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" charted—but it’s one of the most consistent albums Elton ever made, and is more enjoyable when listened to from start to finish, and it’s always been one of my favorites. Because it was an autobiographical concept album, for the first time, Elton and Bernie created songs together instead of their usual process of Taupin writing the lyrics first before handing them over to EJ to compose the music. It was also the final time we got to hear the Johnstone/Olsson/Murray/Cooper backing band at work prior to EJ’s super-mega brain-fart of splitting this prolific unit up. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, dummy!</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Anyway, the album opens with the title track, which is alternately optimistic and foreboding at the same time ("We’ve thrown in the towel too many times/Out for the count, and then we’re down"</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">...</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">"From now on sonny, sonny, son—it’s a long and lonely climb…"</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">). My favorite tracks from <em>Captain</em> include "Bitter Fingers", "(Gotta Get A) Meal Ticket", "Writing" and the poignant finale "Curtains", but honestly, there's not a bad one to be found here. Extra credit also goes for the elaborate cover painting (front and back) as well as the not one, but <em>two </em>full-color booklets that were enclosed in the package.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJF2Dkrj5xsfb4veDgDKGFRtkC_bjeQ4M8SeogQaeL9r0qnlr9xsDZXJ5lLGE9G3YUQKnyJkaD1NtURP6MUiUmphr13euBmYOyoCGe_VUd-TUVOnbNHNUsKFSh91ntEsgGK_m5KL3GlU/s1600/Elton_John_-_Goodbye_Yellow_Brick_Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJF2Dkrj5xsfb4veDgDKGFRtkC_bjeQ4M8SeogQaeL9r0qnlr9xsDZXJ5lLGE9G3YUQKnyJkaD1NtURP6MUiUmphr13euBmYOyoCGe_VUd-TUVOnbNHNUsKFSh91ntEsgGK_m5KL3GlU/s1600/Elton_John_-_Goodbye_Yellow_Brick_Road.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><span style="font-size: small;">1) G</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">OODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD</span></span></strong><span style="font-size: small;"><strong> (1973) A+++</strong> </span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anti-climactic, I know, since I gave this away in the intro, but this is the greatest Rock album I've ever heard, the reasons for which I cite <a href="http://hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2007/05/greatest-album-of-all-time.html">here</a> in a post I wrote in 2007. Overall, a salute to Sir Elton from the middle-aged man in the 22nd row... </span> </span></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-76934293060949700782013-03-02T21:26:00.004-06:002013-03-03T02:35:45.267-06:00That Cat Named Hercules, Part I<span lang="EN"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Being as Elton John is tied for #2 with The Who on my all-time favorite Rock group/artist list (2A and 2B behind Kiss, essentially), I’m surprised I’ve never done an official blog tribute to Captain Fantastic, as his music is as big a part of the soundtrack to my life as anyone’s. I paid tribute to</em> Goodbye Yellow Brick Road <em>and the first time I ever saw Sir Elton in concert in previous posts, and now I feel compelled to do a more complete job after finishing a wonderful book by Elizabeth J. Rosenthal called</em> His Song<em>. In her book, Rosenthal chronicles both Elton’s personal life and his music, with very comprehensive details about the inspiration for and recording of virtually each and every song from all of his albums through 2001 when the book was published. Ms. Rosenthal also did a much better job of covering Elton’s personal life than any other biographies I’ve read on him, and I learned way more about that "Cat named Hercules" than ever before.</em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em></em></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>S</em></span></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em>o, I decided to rank all of EJ’s albums from worst-to-first, similar to what I did with Kiss a couple years ago. I cover all of his studio releases and official live albums, but omitted any greatest hits and compilation albums (</em>Love Songs<em>, for instance), as well as the 1994</em> Duets<em> CD, which I didn’t really think was relevant (nor did I much care for it!) and the 1991</em> Two Rooms <em>tribute CD, which Elton didn’t actually participate on. I think I’m pretty kind to Elton too</em></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><em>—only two of the 35 albums received less than a C-minus from me. And I think you can pretty much already guess which album is #1, but my other rankings might surprise you a bit.</em></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>On with the countdown…</em></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTmHECjrkkViyKj8m5zhUPvm0RIRSlqVDwtOCSL1tisulE0pQqxHL4LMPt4CO3ASVfwWClTPq3TFBvlq-YRBC7rwXn9jbjyRWT-E1moIRX4jaEi58rLPuNTmjA-LmSImO0V-t6XzI660/s1600/Album_Victim_of_Love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTmHECjrkkViyKj8m5zhUPvm0RIRSlqVDwtOCSL1tisulE0pQqxHL4LMPt4CO3ASVfwWClTPq3TFBvlq-YRBC7rwXn9jbjyRWT-E1moIRX4jaEi58rLPuNTmjA-LmSImO0V-t6XzI660/s1600/Album_Victim_of_Love.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>35) VICTIM OF LOVE (1979) F </strong>One of the dangers of the type of superstardom Elton John achieved is he was able to indulge himself in anything he damn well pleased by the late ‘70s. EJ was/is a fan of all different types of music, which is well-reflected in his overall musical catalog, everything from Country to Gospel to edgy Rock to R&B, and in 1979, he got the urge to do a Disco album—never mind that Disco was already pass</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">é and on its way to a very timely death by that time. This is the only Elton John album on which he doesn’t play a note</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—he chose to merely sing on it and more or less just phoned that in. The only halfway-inspired track was "Street Boogie", but like most Disco songs, it gets boring after the first three minutes. And a Disco version of Chuck Berry’s "Johnny B. Goode"? Sacrilege. Even Sir Elton himself now freely admits <em>Victim</em> was a soulless turd, and he had reached the nadir of his career. Happily, things improved steadily after that…</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDuWrvm5ttMzedZ2Mq1m8e6t1w90LS9gfamJDONhbUy8objQkbBWgGhZsCT3mJ8Nb9po9mfi4yOtOUkb_boKXYVqXp5YfZ56v0Hr9KO0jwE2Yn-T5d7mzBCR0rR2hV1MsWUCE_NF_MKRo/s1600/Leather_jackets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDuWrvm5ttMzedZ2Mq1m8e6t1w90LS9gfamJDONhbUy8objQkbBWgGhZsCT3mJ8Nb9po9mfi4yOtOUkb_boKXYVqXp5YfZ56v0Hr9KO0jwE2Yn-T5d7mzBCR0rR2hV1MsWUCE_NF_MKRo/s1600/Leather_jackets.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>3<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">4) LEATHER JACKETS (1986) D+ </span></span></span></strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">EJ has similar feelings toward<em> Leather Jackets</em>, which he has deemed his least-favorite of everything he’s ever put out. This one came out while Elton was in one of his creative "comfortable ruts" during which all the songs kinda sounded the same. The only thing that saved <em>Jackets</em> from receiving an F from me was "Go It Alone", an underrated favorite of mine featuring a catchy riff and some edge from Davey Johnstone’s guitar. The rest of it is pretty much half-hearted excrement, including the single "Heartache All Over The World". It also didn’t help that Johnstone, lyricist Bernie Taupin and the rest of Elton’s band at the time are featured on the back cover posing in leather and/or seated on motorcycles looking like a bunch of third-rate Fonzies performing in Branson. Just a very ill-starred effort from someone I’ve come to expect much better from.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OB4lY8vMYUUpg-yFoesJobBX0Fr6dfrVz83PgHZHVTg1QYbjiK3FuZr620zbx6t_jOgmuZo1fSLUrPgjWSEKZKhQ4ka9AEeAtGsSo7gvn82fBwue-HCxIJgZ_1YcYWdV2R4c31PfhYU/s1600/The_Complete_Thom_Bell_Sessions.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7OB4lY8vMYUUpg-yFoesJobBX0Fr6dfrVz83PgHZHVTg1QYbjiK3FuZr620zbx6t_jOgmuZo1fSLUrPgjWSEKZKhQ4ka9AEeAtGsSo7gvn82fBwue-HCxIJgZ_1YcYWdV2R4c31PfhYU/s1600/The_Complete_Thom_Bell_Sessions.png" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">33) THE COMPLETE THOM BELL SESSIONS (1978) C-</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hesitated even including it on the list, since it’s not really a full-length album, and I may be a bit harsh giving this one a C-. I truly enjoy some good Soul/R&B music now and then—when it’s done by black guys, that is. When a white dude attempts it, the results are usually unsatisfying. "Mama Can’t Buy Your Love" was a fair-sized hit for Elton, but I just never grooved to <em>Thom Bell</em>, and was getting frustrated with John’s inconsistency in the late ‘70s following his halcyon days. I will say this, though—<em>Thom Bell</em> was way better than the Disco album Captain Mediocre put out next (see #35 above).</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGvyTaW0H8CXuGNWcs3lA_th6WtA_robZMfZV9fT5xNWKy5jh7fLGhyphenhyphenREenK_dj1rJdLOV_-KRxNlSUJKCx82WxLxwQzxh42t2NcjtKoCGdqgRe88AxBSedOFk_iUj-7J5861msGKb1I/s1600/Album_21_at_33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGvyTaW0H8CXuGNWcs3lA_th6WtA_robZMfZV9fT5xNWKy5jh7fLGhyphenhyphenREenK_dj1rJdLOV_-KRxNlSUJKCx82WxLxwQzxh42t2NcjtKoCGdqgRe88AxBSedOFk_iUj-7J5861msGKb1I/s1600/Album_21_at_33.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>32) 21 At 33 (1980) C- </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Elton was still making his way back out of the musical wilderness in 1980, following three years of unfocused mediocrity and substandard releases (two of which I just covered), and <em>21 At 33</em> reflects the baby steps he was taking after briefly reconnecting with Taupin following their unplanned sabbatical from collaborating with one another. "Little Jeannie" yielded John’s first legitimate hit in quite a while, but it always came across to me as kinda wussy-sounding. About the only other noteworthy tracks were "Chasing The Crown" and "White Lady, White Powder", the latter half of which Elton had been indulging too much in during that period. Even the title confounded me for the longest time—it was supposed to signifying his 21st album at age 33, but every time I tried to tally up his album catalog, I kept coming up with 20, greatest hits packages and live albums included. I didn’t realize it referred to his British releases, which had more compilations and such than his US stuff did. Overall, a rather forgettable album, but at least it was a step in the right direction, considering where Elton had been wallowing the past few years prior to it.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79AacNtKKrD9j9OmI5jWlrBfO8syhdFEqpO-mzt0Tr8hZ5P_W7hcPVbuX5HpwaLUZMztOX6o0Gnpmve1mU_t3LkiTa8aReDF2z1kYdyxxdOBkCVDt3UDFIFPpZb3V9MhItlh5gn3rZsM/s1600/Ice_on_fire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh79AacNtKKrD9j9OmI5jWlrBfO8syhdFEqpO-mzt0Tr8hZ5P_W7hcPVbuX5HpwaLUZMztOX6o0Gnpmve1mU_t3LkiTa8aReDF2z1kYdyxxdOBkCVDt3UDFIFPpZb3V9MhItlh5gn3rZsM/s320/Ice_on_fire.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>31) ICE ON FIRE (1985) C- </strong>Elton’s momentum stalled on this album following his wonderful early ‘80s comeback, and it heralded yet another "comfortable rut" he found himself in where most of the songs sounded too similar. True, <em>Ice On Fire </em>yielded two hits, "Nikita" and "Wrap Her Up", but this album as a whole lived up to the first half of its title with me—it sounded too cold and plastic most of the time. Even the cover photo seemed cool and distant, which featured Elton looking like a snooty aristocrat (as he also did on <em>A Single Man </em>in '78). The video for "Wrap Her Up" featured a mulleted Elton duetting with George Michael—two renowned gay men inanely singing the praises of famous women—<em>meh</em>. Far and away this album’s saving grace is the forgotten gem "Act Of War", a comic duet with R&B siren Millie Jackson, and one of my all-time favorite "fuck you" songs. Featuring a Davey Johnstone guitar riff that sounded dangerously close to Glenn Frey’s "The Heat Is On" (also on the charts long about the same time) this track wasn’t even available on vinyl copies of <em>IOF </em>(only as a bonus track on cassettes and these new things called compact discs, which had just hit the marketplace in ‘85), but it blew away everything else on the album (pun intended). Elton originally had Tina Turner in mind for the song, but she politely passed, so Jackson joined the melee instead, and almost sounded (and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQId1AAMT7U">in the video</a> kinda looked like) RuPaul in places. "We’re living on the front line, you and me/Fightin’ on this battleground of misery/Oh, go ahead/Bring the artillery, and we’ll make this an act of war!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
</span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLMb_A_uZjHleXqF5XesrlQivuIIkjPZA_S0QI362usdpKbrd00eodekdXxksmlt0mPxXQpfOpVPRdUmY9pzMIURhn2BXeSsXNy_InZEAiLq9N2f9cPcHqBxZCUf0SwpdZv2LIWW93pI/s1600/The_big_picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLMb_A_uZjHleXqF5XesrlQivuIIkjPZA_S0QI362usdpKbrd00eodekdXxksmlt0mPxXQpfOpVPRdUmY9pzMIURhn2BXeSsXNy_InZEAiLq9N2f9cPcHqBxZCUf0SwpdZv2LIWW93pI/s1600/The_big_picture.jpg" /></a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>30) THE BIG PICTURE (1997) C- </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Mr. Taupin cites this release his least favorite of all his collaborations with Sir Elton. EJ had slipped back into another comfortable rut at that point, following his 1990s comeback that featured two of his strongest albums in many years back-to-back, 1992’s <em>The One</em> and 1995’s <em>Made In England. TBP</em> isn’t all that bad an album really, but it features way more slow-tempo tracks than its immediate predecessors, and sadly, doesn’t really wake up from its slumber until the closing song, "Wicked Dreams". Apart from the somewhat-predictable hit single "There’s Something About The Way You Look Tonight" and a personal lyrical favorite of mine, "Recover Your Soul", there isn’t anything terribly memorable about <em>The Big Picture</em>, which was also overshadowed by the world-record selling "Candle In The Wind ‘97" and the tragic event which triggered it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD41KMTM0UBGn8PkLt-DRm4XMhwgFmCweXqMHJWyG1T5VIh2B6LMg_vW-OY9vE5Do-rR-jJ_Dlbb0ugIU5U4IFzMJI13tgpyOLwJspy5E8Ac-dJRgCbkYkJpy1uaiw1I4ZKLtB1fWfhCk/s1600/Friendsalbum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD41KMTM0UBGn8PkLt-DRm4XMhwgFmCweXqMHJWyG1T5VIh2B6LMg_vW-OY9vE5Do-rR-jJ_Dlbb0ugIU5U4IFzMJI13tgpyOLwJspy5E8Ac-dJRgCbkYkJpy1uaiw1I4ZKLtB1fWfhCk/s320/Friendsalbum.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>29) FRIENDS (Soundtrack) (1971) C </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Elton and Bernie’s songwriting partnership was still in the formative stages at this point, but this wasn’t a bad effort for relative newcomers to the music scene, and the album was actually better than the movie it came from. I contemplated giving <em>Friends</em> an incomplete grade instead of C since it’s not all Elton and Bernie here, as parts of the record feature orchestral instrumentals by Paul Buckmaster, who worked on several E. John albums in the early ‘70s. The title track, a minor hit, is a bit of a forgotten gem here, as was "Can I Put You On"?, an underrated Elton classic which merely served as incidental background music on a radio in the film, but was a real showstopper when he rocked the house with it during his live act at that time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7Ofgy39qyDqGjFvBV2J36AjbVz320Rbp9ls7TbAIFwpiXIncNQHIhKo28Ja4siJGUHILzCDk9Nx0fFX-Yhmv0_kMpakveolgx1rc7pgvFK4c-WDu1VQN_HHGBF5JYiJzB_ZMiqxUwCg/s1600/Ptr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7Ofgy39qyDqGjFvBV2J36AjbVz320Rbp9ls7TbAIFwpiXIncNQHIhKo28Ja4siJGUHILzCDk9Nx0fFX-Yhmv0_kMpakveolgx1rc7pgvFK4c-WDu1VQN_HHGBF5JYiJzB_ZMiqxUwCg/s1600/Ptr.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>28) PEACHTREE ROAD (2004) C </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Comfortable rut time again, but this one wasn’t quite so bad. This album had a Country tinge to it similar to 1971’s <em>Tumbleweed Connection</em>, and it had some decent tracks on it like the pseudo Elvis tribute "Porch Swing In Tupelo" and the somewhat-personal "Weight Of The World".</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxBArQc8mLwjzW5kuh36nQsw0IvvNBoDNQt907k79u489x6HWJ1lMRWg2Af3iPM0jmo8r8bUdpdeuMTsdgSRmulCOYogZqZozUMLmOtLKV_8sHD9JPNHQMg8r73v8xcgY9zPuvbFV6A8/s1600/Songs_from_the_west_coast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQxBArQc8mLwjzW5kuh36nQsw0IvvNBoDNQt907k79u489x6HWJ1lMRWg2Af3iPM0jmo8r8bUdpdeuMTsdgSRmulCOYogZqZozUMLmOtLKV_8sHD9JPNHQMg8r73v8xcgY9zPuvbFV6A8/s1600/Songs_from_the_west_coast.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>27) SONGS FROM THE WEST COAST (2001) C </strong>Not sure what the significance of the album title is, but <em>Peachtree</em>’s comfortable rut actually originated on this album, where Elton became more piano-oriented again. Nothing wrong with that, but I’ve always been more partial to Elton’s albums that have a mix of guitar and piano, so a little more 6-string magic here from Davey Johnstone would’ve enhanced things a skosh. Nonetheless, the songs are a bit more memorable than <em>Peachtree</em>, especially "American Triangle", all about the hate-crime murder of gay Wyoming student Matthew Shepard. I liked "Look Ma, No Hands", "This Train Don’t Stop Here Anymore", "Dark Diamond" and "Emperor’s New Clothes", as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIr5CjflUECUA8X-O0OeY16gLhH_qRlJr60AxZmrkC1mVvViJ-kAyS-PQunEyN01DWQCRePBslQ8J2MLH_8SzF9SW8AsKghNP07s7-M-2UNRJENRrD8_1tOtpFRj2vqqn-FtEfjoNYqjw/s1600/Captainkid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIr5CjflUECUA8X-O0OeY16gLhH_qRlJr60AxZmrkC1mVvViJ-kAyS-PQunEyN01DWQCRePBslQ8J2MLH_8SzF9SW8AsKghNP07s7-M-2UNRJENRrD8_1tOtpFRj2vqqn-FtEfjoNYqjw/s320/Captainkid.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>26) THE CAPTAIN & THE KID (2006) C </strong>The comfortable rut continued with Elton and Bernie’s pseudo sequel to <em>Captain Fantastic & The Brown Dirt Cowboy</em> 31 years hence. Once again, very piano-oriented, the tune on the title track for this <em>Captain</em> sounds almost identical to the one from the original <em>Captain</em>, only it has different lyrics and comes at the end instead of being the leadoff hitter. "The Bridge", "Postcards From Richard Nixon" were the other standout tracks, as was a nice EJ tribute to New York City, "Wouldn’t Have You Any Other Way". Still, there seemed to be that nagging sameness to the material here that bogs things down. I realize Elton is older, wiser and drug-free now, but I’d still like to see him rock out a bit more than he has in recent years.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgN9QvnWyJ1LQcJtphtl-pnoU00uB2MiNt785oFv5g6qZizsSBZXQEiZUfXCOKh9JP8C2Ct0VHfu94HDVRqH3ahTfkj8I7hoelDIG-dTr3L23La4fb61XtM72krxPwVeMI-yVkBW2FDM/s1600/Elton_John_-_A_Single_Man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbgN9QvnWyJ1LQcJtphtl-pnoU00uB2MiNt785oFv5g6qZizsSBZXQEiZUfXCOKh9JP8C2Ct0VHfu94HDVRqH3ahTfkj8I7hoelDIG-dTr3L23La4fb61XtM72krxPwVeMI-yVkBW2FDM/s1600/Elton_John_-_A_Single_Man.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>25) A SINGLE MAN (1978) C </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The bottom had to fall out sometime—Elton had such an unprecedented rise to stardom in the ‘70s, but even he couldn’t keep it going. A creative rest might’ve suited him better, but record companies being as they are, MCA demanded more product, and for the first time since his early days, EJ’s magic touch just wasn’t there. Everything seemed different here, right down to Elton ditching his (in)famous trademark crazy eyewear in favor of contact lenses for the cover photo (as well as getting his right ear pierced), and <em>ASM</em> also marked Elton’s first recording without songwriting partner Bernie Taupin, and it showed. Most of the album was co-written with Gary Osborne, and it’s not that the album totally sucked, but it wasn’t all that memorable, either, even with highlights like the pleasingly-apathetic "I Don’t Care", the mostly-instrumental "Song For Guy" and the single "Part-Time Love". EJ’s trek through the musical wilderness had begun…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn_kRGiW1c3stqHBrfmBXvlD7SjBA3j3ocTRpngEkHPJzAv08vp6FTL7k0FNltNjI8lQzhjLkjmruuZ_SmB748Wlnqe68pADafgYZWzhhZ2mMgbVxz9CtArhwAfFeCXX6djR1KnG2tdw/s1600/Sleeping_with_the_past.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn_kRGiW1c3stqHBrfmBXvlD7SjBA3j3ocTRpngEkHPJzAv08vp6FTL7k0FNltNjI8lQzhjLkjmruuZ_SmB748Wlnqe68pADafgYZWzhhZ2mMgbVxz9CtArhwAfFeCXX6djR1KnG2tdw/s1600/Sleeping_with_the_past.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>24) SLEEPING WITH THE PAST (1989) C </strong>This was E. John’s final studio album recorded under the cloud of alcohol and drugs. It’s surprising this one turned out as well as it did, considering that Elton’s personal life was a train wreck, he was overweight—"as big as Luther Vandross at his worst", he later admitted—and he had bleached white hair, which made him look 20 years older than he truly was. Hell, he could've doubled for Truman Capote! He went for a mostly R&B sound on<em> SWTP</em>, "Healing Hands" being the centerpiece, while "Club At The End Of The Street" was kinda funky, and "Sacrifice" wound up being a surprise hit, especially in England, where it became EJ’s first #1 in his homeland. The real hidden gem is the beautiful closer, "Blue Avenue". It’s not a bad album, I suppose, but just not a big EJ favorite of mine, for some reason.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Xw0WPE9dh6ZwEjUfaD7hm-gXYC7MEP-9o1qjlNSVTjVvDwkbzd8Qf83C5t2PsL3nAlnTo7t2JYyyjCkLYrot9E6ERxPtwtfDbNwQON1xSDO5KBUb0QibKPI0gwuDhLQ51tkX0Vmg4nA/s1600/TU_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Xw0WPE9dh6ZwEjUfaD7hm-gXYC7MEP-9o1qjlNSVTjVvDwkbzd8Qf83C5t2PsL3nAlnTo7t2JYyyjCkLYrot9E6ERxPtwtfDbNwQON1xSDO5KBUb0QibKPI0gwuDhLQ51tkX0Vmg4nA/s320/TU_cover.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>23) THE UNION (w/Leon Russell) (2011) C </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brother Leon is one of Elton’s idols, but I can’t fathom a more unlikely duo, given their divergent musical and vocal styles, not to mention their looks. Critics went ape-shit over this album, and it’s great for the type of music it is, I suppose, but for some reason it doesn’t blow me away like it did the critics. Leon sounds way too much like Willie Nelson here and practically looked like an invalid in the making-of documentary, so it appears Elton did all the heavy lifting, although the closing track, "In The Arms Of The Angels" features only Russell singing very poignantly and moving Elton to tears in the studio as he recorded it. "Monkey Suit" and the bluesy opening cut "If It Wasn’t For Bad You’d Be Good" are standouts, and at least it sounded like these two enjoyed working together. Coulda used a bit more guitar for my liking, though. More cowbell, too…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBljut8HnSW0UnUlK3boLCQPxngDnG0Vokd-8xH-06X8XNKTn5-ggaKntNtcEcZstMH-k5-HScNP__eURfFSU-YeXVY3FUfNrTGlgncs7VQpFEURWjSpRUfCvMMST9eaktxKH0hMWPtdk/s1600/Live_in_australia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBljut8HnSW0UnUlK3boLCQPxngDnG0Vokd-8xH-06X8XNKTn5-ggaKntNtcEcZstMH-k5-HScNP__eURfFSU-YeXVY3FUfNrTGlgncs7VQpFEURWjSpRUfCvMMST9eaktxKH0hMWPtdk/s1600/Live_in_australia.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>22) LIVE IN AUSTRALIA (1987) C+ </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Touring with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra during a mightily successful trek through Oz in 1986 was a brilliant masterstroke, considering how many of Elton’s early recordings contained string arrangements and this double live album would’ve made a wonderful souvenir thereof—IF Elton’s voice hadn’t been torn to shreds by that time. He would soon opt to have surgery to remove polyps from his vocal chords, but throughout most of this record, he sounded more like Redd Foxx than Captain Fantastic. "Candle In The Wind" even resurfaced here as a hit single, but between Elton’s hoarseness and the dour instrumentation, it came off more like a dirge than a celebration of Marilyn Monroe—give me the <em>Yellow Brick Road</em> original any day. Still, the rest of the album contained highlights like the underrated "Have Mercy On The Criminal" (from <em>Don’t Shoot Me</em>), "Take Me To The Pilot" and "Madman Across The Water". My grade would be substantially higher if Elton’s voice had been in top form.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwtH-4jZuc4A43dubZUjb_pzj0md5RH3X1FKbvCoffudspGqXECWESB2-IFI6Bzh0KXU9Xqcu7wLUYZJy1522WuHiigWOMsTb2hJAPeysadIIcQMQXhyphenhyphen8yE6WD4JrHXstPuxHMwXN3Dw/s1600/One_Night_Only_EJ_Album.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEwtH-4jZuc4A43dubZUjb_pzj0md5RH3X1FKbvCoffudspGqXECWESB2-IFI6Bzh0KXU9Xqcu7wLUYZJy1522WuHiigWOMsTb2hJAPeysadIIcQMQXhyphenhyphen8yE6WD4JrHXstPuxHMwXN3Dw/s1600/One_Night_Only_EJ_Album.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
<strong>21) ONE NIGHT ONLY: THE GREATEST HITS (2000) C+ </strong></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As great a performer as Elton John is, he has yet to put out a truly quintessential live concert album. The expanded re-release of <em>Here And There</em> probably comes the closest (read on in Part II), and this one isn’t bad, but there just seems to be something missing here. <em>One Night</em> is career-spanning, giving us the first "official" live versions of "Philadelphia Freedom" and the thumping "I’m Still Standing", as well as Elton’s more recent hits like "Can You Feel The Love Tonight" and "Sacrifice", and it was also wonderful to have longtime drummer Nigel Olsson back behind the skins once again. Elton doesn’t even try to do the falsetto "La la la la la’s" on "Crocodile Rock" anymore, but it still rocks out, as does "Bennie & The Jets". Still, apart from Kiki Dee in her rightful place duetting on "Don’t Go Breaking My Heart", I honestly could’ve done without the guest singers featured throughout the album, especially Mary J. Bilge-water ("Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me") and Anesthesia—er uh, Anastacia caterwauling on "Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting", which sounds totally silly with a woman singing it. My other issue here is apart from introducing his guests, they omitted most of Elton’s between-song on-stage patter, which often can be as fun and entertaining as the songs themselves. Overall, not a bad live release, but this could’ve been way better with a little tweaking…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Z_hbMkGTqLLrWhxXp4TBr6EtZAx-vygfKYT_wE9SMcln5EJSuqgjKJJLtrMSob8Nxzi_Bxv__i3HOzmbGsKeYqzomCfTQ12Hfuk9_ogad06CAd_yYN61QVr5h9vtiZN8r5mM0clhL34/s1600/Elton_John_-_Blue_Moves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Z_hbMkGTqLLrWhxXp4TBr6EtZAx-vygfKYT_wE9SMcln5EJSuqgjKJJLtrMSob8Nxzi_Bxv__i3HOzmbGsKeYqzomCfTQ12Hfuk9_ogad06CAd_yYN61QVr5h9vtiZN8r5mM0clhL34/s1600/Elton_John_-_Blue_Moves.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>20) BLUE MOVES (1976) C+ </strong>Critically-acclaimed for the most part, this one just always left me a bit flat, but you can attribute that to my own overly-high expectations for <em>Blue Moves</em>. When I heard Elton John was making another double-album in ‘76, visions of <em>Goodbye Yellow Brick Road II</em> danced in my 12-year-old head, but such was not to be. As with most double-albums from the ‘60s and ‘70s that weren’t concept records like <em>Tommy, Quadrophenia, The Wall,</em> et al, you could lop off the filler tracks and create a pretty decent single-album with <em>Blue Moves</em>. Just as the case was with the Stones’ <em>Exile On Main Street</em>, The Beatles’ <em>White Album</em> and Jimi Hendrix’ <em>Electric Ladyland</em>, I thought <em>BM</em> had too many throwaway songs that would normally not have made the cut on an Elton John record, to wit: Bigger ain’t necessarily better! Which is not to say there isn’t some good stuff here—"One Horse Town" and "Crazy Water" are two VERY underrated EJ cuts, "Shoulder Holster" has really grown on me over the years, especially Elton’s vocal on it, and even the Disco romp "Bite Your Lip (Get Up And Dance!)" is fairly tolerable. We even get three rare instrumentals from Elton here: "Your Starter For…", which segues into the 8:00-long "Tonight", "Out Of The Blue", which meanders around for over six funky minutes, and "Theme From A Non-Existent TV Series", which doesn’t even last a minute-and-a-half, but still gets its point across. "Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word" was the big hit from <em>Moves</em>, but I’ve always found it as depressing as Mr. John’s receding hairline was <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c3nScN89Klo">in the video</a> for it at the time. Elton has often cited <em>Blue Moves</em> as one of his personal favorites. Sorry I can’t say the same, although it did have its moments.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRow23Ya-TPqE0BBvWRXllidbfyis073fSWhsd0IDuV6PSKVHJifc9YoUsPza6w5dKwO_ugJ1chxXI8WlFPORXJfWA3sWtxRFm5kzsHrVC4BSIg5Ja-5RXNVh4P8zgWrkOdEcw2aIig0/s1600/The_fox_(Elton_John_album)_coverart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRow23Ya-TPqE0BBvWRXllidbfyis073fSWhsd0IDuV6PSKVHJifc9YoUsPza6w5dKwO_ugJ1chxXI8WlFPORXJfWA3sWtxRFm5kzsHrVC4BSIg5Ja-5RXNVh4P8zgWrkOdEcw2aIig0/s1600/The_fox_(Elton_John_album)_coverart.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>19) THE FOX (1981) C+ </strong>The baby steps of Elton’s early-‘80s return-to-form got a little bigger on <em>The Fox</em>, his first release on the Geffen label after leaving MCA Records in 1980. Working more and more with Bernie Taupin again following their unintentional (but probably necessary) hiatus, Elton was beginning to sound like Elton again, on songs like "Heels Of The Wind" and the title track, which closes the album. The tracks he collaborated on with other songwriters were also quite good, particularly "Chloe", composed by Gary Osborne, whom he’d worked with off-and-on since <em>A Single Man</em>. That song sounded especially good when Sir Elton played it live on tour in 1982. The lead-off track, "Breaking Down Barriers", also co-written with Osborne, sounded much more confident and assertive than the wimpy "Little Jeannie" from the year before, and EJ gives his falsetto its best workout since 1975’s "I Feel Like A Bullet (In The Gun Of Robert Ford)". The most controversial track, "Elton’s Song", was co-written with openly-gay singer-songwriter Tom Robinson, all about a schoolboy crush on another schoolboy, and it took a fair amount of balls on Elton’s part to put it on his record. For the record, I’ve never had a problem with Elton’s homosexuality and I’ve always admired his honesty and forthrightness about it. As for the album, Elton was definitely back on the right track at this point…</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p5caSl3BI4JuwU3U4TqBdaXDEwpjtwbNxF6T9FP5mBUbJJJu27w2jCLCYomFnL1tWvP1OjO5OVfGItLnVPSwrTve-hkf-rzply2XxjbpH0oWahyphenhyphentR_hyF5qAN2mBDiewJcDCKE7pkw8/s1600/Elton_John_-_Empty_Sky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2p5caSl3BI4JuwU3U4TqBdaXDEwpjtwbNxF6T9FP5mBUbJJJu27w2jCLCYomFnL1tWvP1OjO5OVfGItLnVPSwrTve-hkf-rzply2XxjbpH0oWahyphenhyphentR_hyF5qAN2mBDiewJcDCKE7pkw8/s1600/Elton_John_-_Empty_Sky.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>18) EMPTY SKY (1969) C+ </strong>Many folks think 1970’s<em> Elton John</em> is his debut album. Guess again. After numerous failed singles circa. 1968-69, <em>Empty Sky</em> was the first official album from Reginald Kenneth Dwight of Pinner, Middlesex, England. It was only available in Europe until re-issued by MCA in the summer of 1975 (with a different cover) during the height of Elton’s chart dominance. Although he sounded like the rookie he was in places, <em>Sky</em> is still very listenable and not a bad effort for the first go-‘round. The lead-off title track clocks in at 8.5 minutes, but holds one’s interest throughout, and Elton almost (intentionally) sounds like Mick Jagger at times. "Skyline Pigeon" could’ve been a big hit with a bit more backing from the record company, and is one of the first truly memorable John-Taupin compositions. "Western Ford Gateway" explores the life of vagrants and "Lady What’s Tomorrow" concerns itself with the environment without getting preachy. "Gulliver" is the sad tale of a dying dog, and it segues into the smart-assedly titled "Hay Chewed", which actually re-caps the entire album with snippets from every song and some trippy late ‘60s feedback to boot. <em>ES </em>only sold modestly, but Elton at least got to experience what making an album was like and still put out something he could be proud of.</span> </span></span><br />Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-74929918264117617092012-12-29T14:40:00.000-06:002013-05-27T17:51:53.407-06:00Kings Without A Throne<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNDZezYenq7hMZTHPQy_CK2t8KGnF5sWxzMHHAGpa_a7DCiQ355Wm3YcRURPrgQI_GTOMegvCpgeA3YT4UhZZGHApWExWmRD7mFyB2-0OcFA-fDnJiQVgpEyTmdDZRvK08SKQxJLuj2g/s1600/imagesCAABTVDF.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguNDZezYenq7hMZTHPQy_CK2t8KGnF5sWxzMHHAGpa_a7DCiQ355Wm3YcRURPrgQI_GTOMegvCpgeA3YT4UhZZGHApWExWmRD7mFyB2-0OcFA-fDnJiQVgpEyTmdDZRvK08SKQxJLuj2g/s1600/imagesCAABTVDF.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve taken yet another trip back in the past during my latest pet project, as I’ve been compiling a data base on the history of the Kansas City Kings bassit-ball franchise the last couple months. It’s easy to think of the Kings as a losing team, but looking back, I’d forgotten that they were indeed a very competitive squad for about a four-year span in the late ‘70s/early ‘80s. Unfortunately, unstable ownership and an inept front office doomed that team to infamy and they wound up moving to Sacramento, California in 1985, only to repeat many of the same mistakes they made here, and they may well be on the move once again pretty soon to Seattle. So, here’s a little tribute to K.C.’s lone NBA franchise that spent 13 seasons here…</span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYKiwTb-T7IjDFdJUZkW4fyWzUpfg6Fajix-GHWj8mJxA0P0eBtqEWJVJvHxXV-c74du1KVEbOhepcC5CrTvisMVLGP_XW7BTieOFGt7-MDnku2WPPsqZzfWhV_gj29QnOBG9f-q9MWc/s1600/Municipal+Auditorium+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYKiwTb-T7IjDFdJUZkW4fyWzUpfg6Fajix-GHWj8mJxA0P0eBtqEWJVJvHxXV-c74du1KVEbOhepcC5CrTvisMVLGP_XW7BTieOFGt7-MDnku2WPPsqZzfWhV_gj29QnOBG9f-q9MWc/s320/Municipal+Auditorium+02.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kansas City was actually intended to house one of the original American Basketball Association teams in 1967, but at the last minute, they pulled up stakes and landed in Colorado to become the Denver Rockets and are now known as the Nuggets. Five years later, the Cincinnati Royals were struggling both at the box office as well as on the court, and opted to move west. The team had already relocated once before, having started in the ‘50s in Rochester, NY (also known as "Royals"), and Kansas City was their first choice, but there was one little problem. Even though Municipal Auditorium was/is a venerable basketball venue, availability was a major issue for sizeable hunks of the season because of events like the Ringling Bros. circus and the Ice Capades, et al, and various annual conventions and trade shows the building also hosted in its exhibition hall (in the days before Bartle Hall opened next door), as well as concerts and operas that were staged in the adjoining Little Theater and Music Hall. Kemper Arena was still two years away from opening as well, and there were no other suitable venues in Kansas City to house the team on nights when The Aud was booked, apart from perhaps The American Royal Arena where the Kansas City Blues minor league hockey team played, but it only held about 5,000 fans, well below NBA standards. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Royals ownership took a cue from several ABA clubs who during the early ‘70s were "regional" franchises, staging their home games in multiple cities, like the Carolina Cougars (Greensville/Raleigh/Charlotte/Winston-Salem), Virginia Squires (Norfolk/Hampton/Richmond/Roanoke) and Texas Chaparrals (Dallas/Lubbock/Ft. Worth), so they decided to play about a third of their home games three hours away from K.C. in Nebraska at Omaha's 10,000-seat Civic Auditorium. Bad idea. Kansas Citians were none too crazy about having to share their NBA team with another city and it speaks volumes that the first game in Kings history took place in Omaha instead of Kansas City on October 19, 1972. This team got off on the wrong foot with this town and never fully righted itself in the 13 years it spent here. And, oh by the way, the top six smallest regular season home crowds in K.C. Kings history were in Omaha.</span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39Q6KMNJqKE0bmbT0mHyv33MbP8B4yV7aDOTfZuLJuqGBAH2KUzkXtg2Z6BzLYvRUc8XrbSbxva9mQ7-IT9ma3IHtSXXTDKBZdxTeqz1ZYo5AgpL-ifk0CgWVacgO7_EWCuFlwO9ULZY/s1600/20100518112803739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh39Q6KMNJqKE0bmbT0mHyv33MbP8B4yV7aDOTfZuLJuqGBAH2KUzkXtg2Z6BzLYvRUc8XrbSbxva9mQ7-IT9ma3IHtSXXTDKBZdxTeqz1ZYo5AgpL-ifk0CgWVacgO7_EWCuFlwO9ULZY/s320/20100518112803739.jpg" width="266" /></a></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There was also another little problem: Kansas City already had a baseball team called the Royals (as did Omaha, K.C.'s minor-league AAA affiliate), so the basketball team was re-christened the "Kansas City-Omaha Kings". The team kept its basic color scheme of blue and white with red trim, merely altering their script name "ROYALS" into "KINGS", and also retaining their rather unique uniform feature from the Cincinnati days of placing the player’s surname BELOW the numbers on the backs of their jerseys (see left). The Cincinnati Reds also did this in the early ‘50s and the Royals co-opted this look for themselves and were the only NBA team to do so, although it’s common practice in the WNBA today and practical, since many female players have long hair, ponytails or dreadlocks that would shroud their name anyway. The "Kansas City-Omaha" moniker only lasted three seasons before it was shortened to just plain Kansas City Kings in the summer of ’75, following the team’s first season at Kemper Arena. </span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc602KuFXwVtWZiFlnpIcD8j99F36oMCUTrxyM3BST3J36sjqwYC3-PNmHtPe6w7k4rjMMj4AN-ZnTv37Inqe2cVTGbrUzBtbxpxsuart4Tj4j8vTqFfpD3y8m24D0mRCWGN1kqC8ElkE/s1600/Kemper+Arena+06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc602KuFXwVtWZiFlnpIcD8j99F36oMCUTrxyM3BST3J36sjqwYC3-PNmHtPe6w7k4rjMMj4AN-ZnTv37Inqe2cVTGbrUzBtbxpxsuart4Tj4j8vTqFfpD3y8m24D0mRCWGN1kqC8ElkE/s1600/Kemper+Arena+06.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even with the truncated name, the team continued to play half-a-dozen games each season in Omaha through 1977-78, in part because Kemper was tied up for most of November every year with the annual American Royal Rodeo and most of March with the annual NAIA and Big 8 basketball tournaments. The Kings’ front-office didn’t have a clue how to market this team and were totally out-of-touch with their own fan base, and just when Kansas Citians thought they finally had the team all to themselves in ‘78, the Kings’ brain-trust came up with the not-so-bright idea of farming out some home games to St. Louis, of all places. And not just ANY home games, mind you, but major draws like Larry Bird’s Boston Celtics, Kareem and Magic’s "Showtime" L.A Lakers, as well as Dr. J’s Philadelphia 76ers. True, the Kings threw fans a bone by televising these games (as well as most of the Omaha games) back to K.C., but Kansas City already has a bad enough inferiority complex when it comes to St. Louis, so to have its NBA team playing to sometimes-packed houses in its arch-rival city against the league’s marquee franchises three or four times a season was just insulting and ultimately another nail in the team’s coffin. Oh, and then the roofed caved in</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">—literally—at Kemper Arena on June 3, 1979 (see above), necessitating their temporary move back to Municipal Auditorium for two-thirds of the 1979-80 season. It wasn’t until 1980-81—nine years into their existence—that the Kings first played their entire home schedule in Kansas City in their actual HOME at Kemper.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">NOTE: The NBA itself wasn’t exactly helpful in promoting the Kings, either. Their Sunday afternoon TV coverage on CBS in the mid-to-late ‘70s included numerous "regional" telecasts featuring the Kings, but we rarely ever got to see our own team on TV, not even during road games because they were almost always blacked-out locally.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKC_-cNRMQrmYNbONZYT9WHXzVDuJpvaiVdmZyJn-Yuc7ADjerZ99hG5APapYjNbmHCUkhi30zjsmyWkd2MrFsunyM4qATNsCtmVS1zacR-gls9yn_icjX4LO-7YjR-C_gNND1zAKHWs/s1600/imagesCABRD54K.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKC_-cNRMQrmYNbONZYT9WHXzVDuJpvaiVdmZyJn-Yuc7ADjerZ99hG5APapYjNbmHCUkhi30zjsmyWkd2MrFsunyM4qATNsCtmVS1zacR-gls9yn_icjX4LO-7YjR-C_gNND1zAKHWs/s1600/imagesCABRD54K.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On the court, the Kings were a mixed bag. In their first season, the Kansas City-Omaha Kings were actually quite respectable, all things considered. Even though the roster was comprised mostly of holdovers from Cincinnati, the Kings seemed like an expansion franchise, but didn’t play like one, finishing 36-46, and they actually rose above the .500 mark midway through the season before a 7-game losing streak did them in. Guard Nate "Tiny" Archibald had a ridiculously good year, setting team scoring records that still haven’t been broken and even landing on the cover of ‘SI’ (see left). Veterans like Matt Guokas, Sam Lacey, Nate Williams, Otto Moore and Jimmy Walker rounded out the roster in those early years, and rookies like Ron Riley, Mike Ratliff and Ken Durrett showed promise. Durrett, in particular, had the look of a star early on until he tore up a knee and was never the same afterward. The team slipped badly in ’73-‘74, leading to head coach Bob Cousy’s dismissal midway through. Cousy was a bit too arrogant to be a coach anyhow, and was replaced eventually by Phil Johnson, who led the Kings to their first playoff berth in ’74-’75. Three poor seasons ensued, Johnson was let go, then "King" Cotton Fitzsimmons took over as head coach in 1978, and he turned this team around in a hurry. The Kings raced to their first and only Midwest Division championship in 1978-79, led by fan-favorite Scott Wedman and rookie Otis Birdsong. Rookie Phil Ford out of North Carolina joined the Kings for the 79-80 season, and the Kings somehow muddled through their tenuous home court situation while Kemper Arena was re-roofed, going an impressive 21-7 at Municipal Auditorium in the interim before returning to the stockyards in February, 1980. That brief stint at "The Aud" also featured the infamous night when Darryl Dawkins of the 76ers <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TtJawsitMsA">shattered the backboard</a> and scared the crap out of late Kings forward Bill Robinzine, who was directly underneath it and wound up picking shards of glass out of his hair for a week afterwards. The Kings finished with a winning record again that year, and just two games behind the Milwaukee Bucks in 2nd place in the Midwest Division.</span></span></span><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5D_DCLJoW4jpS0ffcedWPE-hh8_72Ws2gMAr_p2l_o7NuWC8s70xqL_SzySo3T63_rBdx3eTdRpbGpgIXz1vbMZA4zttVykZSb77tSormz1qlb4qTp3yLbdg-ivRSgGxyr1hwmHf1bgY/s1600/imagesCAKFXB1X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5D_DCLJoW4jpS0ffcedWPE-hh8_72Ws2gMAr_p2l_o7NuWC8s70xqL_SzySo3T63_rBdx3eTdRpbGpgIXz1vbMZA4zttVykZSb77tSormz1qlb4qTp3yLbdg-ivRSgGxyr1hwmHf1bgY/s1600/imagesCAKFXB1X.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another problem that plagued the Kings was playing on the road. There were certain road venues this team couldn’t win at to save their souls, regardless of the quality of the competition at the time. The MECCA in Milwaukee (4-24), Detroit’s Cobo Arena (3-14), the Philadelphia Spectrum (4-16) and even HemisFair Arena in San Antonio were all houses of horror for K.C., but the two worst of all by far were Portland's Memorial Coliseum and the Fabulous Forum in Los Angeles. K.C. (and/or Omaha) went 5-27 in Portland in the regular season, which included losing streaks of 13 and 9 games, but ironically, the Kings won the two playoff games they played there. As for L.A., beginning in 1974, the Kings went on an ignominious road losing streak vs. the Lakers that lasted well into the ‘90s that turned out to be an NBA record for most consecutive losses at a road venue. Granted, the Lakers were always a top-flight team, but surely the Kings should’ve gotten lucky and won there now and then. They came very close on a few occasions at the Forum, but the only other time the Kansas City Kings ever won again in the City of Angels was against the Clippers at L.A. Sports Arena.</span>
<br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcJmboQuIpoWdJ9skcEtLtpTivHgJKEGr6DTW-H4VfUBXpzNp0YZtmWGQN6b1Ago5e4zHZ3JUktxY2dYwSE6akkwXLKZGT4F6SK8teF8mgKCfbma96VaXyWtORuQ3RHD4ceIELTASwFU/s1600/imagesCA7NLJEM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcJmboQuIpoWdJ9skcEtLtpTivHgJKEGr6DTW-H4VfUBXpzNp0YZtmWGQN6b1Ago5e4zHZ3JUktxY2dYwSE6akkwXLKZGT4F6SK8teF8mgKCfbma96VaXyWtORuQ3RHD4ceIELTASwFU/s1600/imagesCA7NLJEM.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The postseason was usually most unkind to the Kings also, as they were one-and-done the first three times they made the playoffs (once to Chicago and twice to Phoenix), but the 1981 playoffs were another story. Following a mediocre 1980-81 regular season in which they went 40-42 and barely snuck into the playoffs on the last day of the regular season, the Kings shocked the Portland Trail Blazers in a three-game mini-series for their first playoff series win (winning two games ironically at the aforementioned Memorial Coliseum), then followed that up with a seven-game triumph over the Phoenix Suns in the second round. The Kings were one series away from making the 1981 NBA Finals, but ran out of gas and lost to the Houston Rockets in five games. Oddly enough, the 1982-83 Kings finished eight games OVER .500, but failed to make the playoffs—go figure. Even so, the 1980-81 postseason was still considered a triumph—far and away the high-point of Kansas City Kings history—and fan interest in the team was at its apex. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Instead of capitalizing on their good fortune and building on it, they pissed it all away. Oh, and then along came this indoor soccer team you’ve heard me talk about…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just when it looked like the K.C. Kings had a solid nucleus of a team that might rule the ‘80s, general manager "Clueless Joe" Axelson traded away Birdsong and Wedman and others and got bupkis in return for them via trades and/or the draft (Leon Douglas, Hawkeye Whitney, Brook Steppe, anyone?). Lacey was nearing the end of his career, Ford underachieved and the team was never quite the same after that, even after they brought in talented players like Reggie Theus, Joe C. Meriweather, Mike Woodson, Larry Drew and Eddie Johnson. The Kings only made the postseason one other time during their existence in K.C., a quick three-and-out against the Lakers in 1983-84 and fan interest dwindled, despite the efforts of their avid fan club, the "Backcourt Boozers". Again, the front office didn’t have a clue how to market the team, and totally failed to capitalize on the bounce they got from that ’80-’81 playoff run, let alone the resurgence in the NBA’s popularity caused by the emergence of Larry Bird and Magic Johnson in the early ‘80s, and later Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon, Patrick Ewing, Dominique Wilkins, etc. Had MJ and those other guys come along a little sooner, who knows what may have happened here?</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Axdg_OV0TB_1BMJAE8t_BNCo-zjbarwkt1AOULDVYF2-owrzDX8ccV-phVoFcpcZS4l1Rodc7JEXExlvjUQH-kGw8ly7hglcYWsy86iSIF6MNipxgbwCnF_3Cm18NwJHidcW2g0rnZ8/s1600/Comets+Logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Axdg_OV0TB_1BMJAE8t_BNCo-zjbarwkt1AOULDVYF2-owrzDX8ccV-phVoFcpcZS4l1Rodc7JEXExlvjUQH-kGw8ly7hglcYWsy86iSIF6MNipxgbwCnF_3Cm18NwJHidcW2g0rnZ8/s1600/Comets+Logo.jpg" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Meantime, the Kansas City Comets of the Major Indoor Soccer League hit town in 1981-82 and were an instant sensation, blowing the doors off the Kings in terms of attracting big crowds and leading their own league in attendance in 1982-83, selling out 15 of 24 home dates—downright unfathomable for a sport which theretofore had precious little history here. The stodgy Kings were too old-school to learn from the marketing wizardry of the Comets’ brilliant front office Leiweke brothers (Tim and Tracey) and I truly feel this led to the Kings’ downfall and eventual exit from this city. Kansas City is most definitely a basketball town—there’s too much heritage and history with all the Final Fours and NAIA Tourneys we’ve hosted here to deny that—so there’s no good reason an NBA franchise couldn’t thrive here, but the Kings managed to find a way not to. It just felt like the front office never truly gave a damn about their fans, and that WE owed it to THEM to attend their games. No big surprise that the city didn’t put up much of a fight to keep the Kings during their lame-duck 1984-85 season before they bolted to Sacramento to play in a renovated warehouse. Long about the time the NBA’s next season in KC would’ve begun, the Royals won the World Series, and the Comets were still packing Kemper, thus the Kings were already long forgotten, and they haven’t been terribly missed since then. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After the Kings’ departure, Kansas City spent one season in the minor-league Continental Basketball Association when a team called the Sizzlers played at Municipal Auditorium in 1985-86, but interest in them was tepid at best, and they moved west just like the Kings did—to Topeka. Over a decade ago, the Kansas City Knights were members of the hap-hazard and totally disorganized ABA 2000, a league in which franchises came and went at the drop of a hat on a weekly basis, playing their home games in high school gyms, YMCAs, playgrounds, parking lots, etc., and the Knights usually played to 15,000 empty seats at Kemper. And really, that’s been the extent of professional basketball in this town to date. The advent of the Sprint Center five years ago raised the possibility of the NBA (or even the Kings franchise itself) returning to downtown KC, but that seems to be nothing but false hope, and the University of Kansas men’s basketball team continues to serve as Kansas City’s ersatz "pro" basketball team. As for the Kings, one can’t help but think "what might’ve been", if they’d had some solid ownership and competent people running the team—they coulda been a contender...</span> </span></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-41514998513275277072012-11-24T13:50:00.000-06:002013-01-13T00:46:08.314-06:00Easy, Catman--You Are Delirious!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN"><em>"No one wants to be Peter Criss—not even Peter Criss!"</em>—Peter Griffin ("Family Guy")</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN">The rotund one from Quahog may well be right...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhybRWQ19F3WrdTbRWXuf31uQJVsWTpol3waAVCeF3MP16hZcPP6FN2WcV9LseZUjeRuJkccfbdXeIqAYA63Frgdeb6EGFnGWGhhcAA6Qhb7YIdIzAa-LEDBx88FRtLriuFjJFqdCVHEP0/s1600/Peter02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhybRWQ19F3WrdTbRWXuf31uQJVsWTpol3waAVCeF3MP16hZcPP6FN2WcV9LseZUjeRuJkccfbdXeIqAYA63Frgdeb6EGFnGWGhhcAA6Qhb7YIdIzAa-LEDBx88FRtLriuFjJFqdCVHEP0/s320/Peter02.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN">Time for yet another review of a Rock star autobiography book that I’ve completed reading. These things are becoming a bit of an addiction for me, and this latest tell-all manifesto comes from George Peter John Criscoula, better known to most humanoids as Peter Criss of Kiss and his new book, the cleverly-titled<em> Makeup To Breakup-My Life In And Out Of Kiss</em>. Kitty-Cat is the third original member of Kiss to chronicle his life in a book, with Gene Simmons and Ace Frehley preceding him and Paul Stanley remaining the lone holdout (although word has it that the Starchild is currently working on one as well). As with <a href="http://hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2011/11/regrets-hes-had-few.html">Frehley’s book <em>No Regrets</em></a> last year, I looked forward very much to hearing what Mr. Criscoula had to say after lo, these many years of rancor, vitriol and invective hurled between the two factions of the original Kiss foursome (Simmons/Stanley vs. Frehley/Criss), which at times seems reminiscent of the Israelis vs. the Palestinians. Up ‘till now I’ve always been rather sympathetic towards Peter, and have often defended unfair criticism of him on Internet forums and such, but I came away very disappointed after reading his book. Criss comes off as a cross (Criss-cross?) between a persecuted martyr and a whiny jerk. Peter, my friend, love ya to death, and I realize you have a boatload of pent-up unresolved bitterness—much of it <em>totally</em> justified—but then again, many of your personal problems were of your own doing, both before and after you left Kiss. For a guy who seemingly once had it all, lost it all, then got it all back again, there’s a bit too much "woe is me" in these pages for my liking. After reading this, I could only come to the conclusion that the Catman is one big pussy. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Sorry!)</span><br /> <br />Like I said in <a href="http://hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2009/11/my-life-in-kiss-cult-part-b.html">my review of Simmons’ book</a>, each of these guys could do a book and you’d get four different versions of the Kiss story, and it appears I was a prophet in that regard. Even though Stanley hasn't done one yet, it's ironic how the Kiss tell-all autobiographies so far seem to parallel the 1978 Kiss solo albums in terms of quality—Ace's being the best, Gene's being mostly a load of bullshit and the Cat hocking up a fur ball once again. As I also did with Frehley, I found myself picking and choosing what to believe or not believe here because if you were fucked up a lot of the time on drugs, I automatically have to question your credibility, and sadly, much of Criss’ book is rather delusional. I knew going in that Peter would have some major axe-grinding to do on Paul and especially Gene—something would’ve been totally amiss if he didn’t go after them with his verbal bazooka—but this book just seemed at times to be every bit the mean-spirited, hateful and unfair hatchet-job that Simmons’ equally clever-titled <em>Kiss And Make-Up</em> was in 2002, if not even moreso. Even Ace Frehley, Peter’s de facto "partner in crime" in Kiss, gets thrown under the bus here, as do current Kiss members Eric Singer and Tommy Thayer, among many others, and even late Kiss guitarist Mark St. John was skewered pretty good—welcome to Bridge Burning 101, boys and girls!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN"><strong>SPOILER ALERT!</strong> <em>As per my usual, I’ll be quoting from the book a lot here <span style="color: #3d85c6;">(in blue),</span> so use discretion if you plan to read it yourself. There is also a fair amount of sexual content, so if that offends you, go read something else because in this particular case, "Spoiler" alert takes on a whole other meaning here. And please beware that this gets a bit lengthy if indeed you do choose to read on…</em><br /><br />My thoughts (in no particular order)…<br /><br />--I’ll say this for Peter Criss, he spares his readers NOTHING in this book. His account of his life is very detailed and far too often he lurches into Too Much Information territory, right down to the day he crapped his drawers in grammar school! I shit you not. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Sorry again!)</span> His tales—many of them quite tall—about his sexual escapades also fall into the T.M.I. zone, and he gets dirtier and WAY more graphic than Simmons ever did in his book. Granted, Peter didn’t fuck every female that merely had a pulse like Gene did (still does?), but based on the writing here, he was pretty lecherous and lascivious himself, even though Criss was the only married member of Kiss until Ace got hitched in 1978, so his criticisms of Gene’s decadent lifestyle ring pretty hollow to me here.<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "But pussy is like heroin,"</span> he confesses,<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "I couldn’t stop."</span> When Peter talks about meeting his current wife, Gigi (whom he claims to cherish and adore) he actually refers to her as <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"this broad"</span>—boy, that’s real classy. In reference to the 2003 Kiss "Symphony" concert in Melbourne, Australia, he says,<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "There’s something about a woman spreading her legs with a cello in between them that is so hot…I had a perpetual erection looking at those cello girls." </span>In another passage, we’re treated to the phrase<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "played with her titties."</span> This sounds like the utterances of some 7th-grader knee-deep in puberty, not those of a world-famous 66-year-old musician. I also didn’t really need to hear about Frehley’s preoccupation with jerking off a lot during their early days together, let alone Peter’s description of Ace’s and Paul’s genitalia, which I found quite off-putting. I actually felt like I needed a bath after reading that chapter—same feeling I get when I watch "The Jerry Springer Show". By the way, I highly recommend this book to any gay readers out there—you'll love it! Look, I’m no prude, and I may be a bit biased (not to mention jaded) because it’s been 13 years since I played with anyone's titties myself (hey, I’m not proud of it), but if you’re going to go around bragging about your sexual conquests and especially about how big your dick is (9 inches, Criss claims), then you, sir, I can do without. Peter even goes so far as to proudly nickname his tallywhacker <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"</span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">The Spoiler"</span>. Dude, please…<br /><br />--He calls current Kiss drummer Eric Singer a<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "schlep"</span> in this book. Don’t know how to break this to you, Catman, but that schlep is a far superior drummer than you ever were, even at the height of your powers before your recreational drug usage took over. So was the late Eric Carr, who Criss only mentions in passing in the book. He also has an intense dislike for current Kiss guitarist Tommy Thayer, whom he calls <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"Gene and Paul’s butt boy for everything."</span> It became clear to me after reading the book that any elementary school teacher in America would write on his report card "Peter doesn't work and play well with others." <br /><br />--Peter frequently talks out of both sides of his mouth throughout the book. The way he refers to women in the book makes him sound boorish and disrespectful—even borderline misogynistic—especially for someone who claims to be a Christian and truly believes in God, yet all the while he constantly portrays himself as a "gentleman" good-guy. He got all enraged upon discovering that his first two wives were cheating on him, yet it was perfectly okey-dokey for him to be untrue to them with every groupie he could doink all those years. He often mentions how being in Kiss was totally about the music for him, and he chafed at how for Gene Simmons it was always about the money. Yet, Criss constantly pisses and moans about how underpaid he was (compared to Gene, Paul and Ace) and missed out on all the merchandise revenue when he rejoined for the 1996 Reunion Tour and beyond. Regarding the reunion, he said,<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "It looked like Paul had settled down. He was a family man now, and I liked it. And Gene was now with Shannon Tweed and they had a couple of kids, so I got a good family vibe off this whole thing. Yeah, right."</span> Well, did you like it and did you get a family vibe or didn’t you, Pete? He bitches about Kiss "going disco" with 1979’s smash hit "I Was Made For Loving You", yet what was his lone contribution to the <em>Dynasty</em> album, "Dirty Livin’"—a fucking disco song! And a mighty lame one, at that. Way too many double-standards here, Bud…<br /><br />--Criss had a brief flirtation (in the loosest sense) in 1989 with short-tenured Kiss guitarist Mark St. John, with hopes of putting a band together and maybe even exacting a little mutual sweet revenge for themselves on the Demon and Starchild in the process. <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"I thought working with the former guitarist of Kiss would surely make Gene and Paul crazy, but it made <em>me </em>crazy. I’d go to his house to rehearse and half the time he’d have overslept. One time the door to his room was open and I found kiddie-porn magazines from Germany all over the floor. It was really sick shit."</span> Sick shit, indeed, but I don’t really know a whole lot about St. John, so the kiddie-porn thing is news to me. Peter had better be telling the truth here—I think it's pretty low-rent to make accusations of this nature, especially about a guy who is deceased and can no longer defend himself. True or not, now Mark's friends and loved-ones have to deal with this crap. Nice job, Criscoula...<br /><br />--Criss was mangled up pretty good in a car accident in 1978 in which he was riding shotgun at a high rate of speed and not wearing a seat belt. He claims Paul Stanley came to visit him in the hospital and said to him,<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> "Look at you. You really fucked up…How could you do this? You’re really a fucking idiot…Oh, and Gene wanted me to tell you that he thinks you’re a loser and a moron…he refuses to set foot in this hospital."</span> Seriously, Petey? Gene and Paul are a lot of things, and even though I don’t know them personally, I find it impossible to believe that either of them was/is that cold and inhuman, not even Simmons. And why would Paul even say that Peter fucked up in the first place? Criss wasn’t even behind the wheel that night. Then Peter also claims that when Frehley came to visit, Ace got all demanding with the doctors and nurses because Criss was in such pain and needed more medication and threatened to "shut the place down" if they didn't help him. Oh, and then later on some nurse came in to give Peter a blowjob to ease his suffering. Riiiiight. I’m calling bullshit on this whole scenario. You don’t need to sell books THAT badly, do you, Pete? As they say on ESPN these days, "C'mon, Man..."<br /><br />--I don’t mean to say that everything written here is Wookiee excrement. On the positive side, Catman does give proper (and long overdue) credit to the late Sean Delaney, who was instrumental in creating much of Kiss’ signature stage presentation and overall look. Often referred to as the "5th member of Kiss", Sean was a singer/musician himself and even though Stanley and Simmons like to take credit for creating the whole Kiss package themselves in their revisionist rehashes of the band’s history, Delaney is the one who mentored the band and helped refine their act into what we know today. SD would videotape Kiss rehearsals and go over them with the group, breaking their performances down in much the same manner that a football coach goes over game films. He also acted as peacemaker amongst the band and nursed them through their numerous personality conflicts. Kiss wouldn’t have been Kiss without Mr. Delaney, rest his soul. Criss also gives well-deserved props to the late Bill Aucoin, who was manager and early mastermind of the Kiss empire. Even though his background was in television instead of Rock ‘N’ Roll, he had the smarts on how to market the band and create their mega-superstar image. Aucoin believed in the band enough to finance their 1975 <em>Dressed To Kill</em> tour with his American Express card (as the legend goes), and his convictions were right that this band would hit the big-time.<br /><br />--I also totally agree with Peter’s assessment of the recording of the first Kiss album, produced by Kenny Kerner and Richie Wise, who were cronies of late Casablanca Records president Neil Bogart. <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"There were no balls between those grooves…Kerner and Wise were too old-school. They were making us sound like a pop band…To my taste, they had great, great songs—masterpieces—and they made them sound pedestrian. The strength and the energy and the power of our band had been blunted." </span>As enduring as the tracks on that album are—seven out of the ten ("Firehouse", "Deuce", "Strutter", "Nothin' To Lose", "Black Diamond", "100,000 Years" and "Cold Gin") still make the Kiss concert set list on a regular basis even today—one can only imagine what that album might’ve sounded like if Eddie Kramer (who produced the first Kiss demo tape and later<em> Alive!</em> and<em> Rock And Roll Over</em>) was available to work on it. We might be talking about<em> Kiss</em> in the same league with other classic debut albums like <em>Boston, Van Halen, Pronounced Leh-nerd Skin-nerd, Are You Experienced?</em> and <em>Appetite For Destruction.</em> <br /><br />--Peter does corroborate Ace’s stories about Gene being a total slob when they roomed together during their early tours. Allegedly hygiene (Hi, Gene?) was more of a hobby for the Demon than a regular habit, and he rarely, if ever, showered (according to Criss), thus garnering him the nickname "Stinky". Apparently, Ace was fairly unkempt in those hotel rooms himself, and Peter also corroborates what Gene said about Space Ace's poor work ethic, and how he was lazy and unwilling to help load and unload equipment in the early years, and chronically late to rehearsals and such.<br /><br />--I was surprised Peter didn’t say much about the apathetic response his 1978 solo album received. I still don’t think he gets why most Kiss fans (me included) were so underwhelmed by it—it sounded like a cross between a David Cassidy and Ringo Starr album instead of an out-and-out Rock record. Kiss fans want balls, not crooning—hell, Andy Gibb was making edgier albums during that time! And I was also downright shocked Criss said nothing about Eric Carr singing "Beth" on the 1988 Kiss greatest hits compilation <em>Smashes, Thrashes &</em></span></span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span lang="EN"><em> Hits</em>. Even I thought this was a disrespectful bullshit move by Gene and Paul to give Peter’s "baby" to Carr, who was desperate to get a solo vocal on a Kiss record, thus he reluctantly sang it. However, Pete did go to great lengths in the book to remind us that "Beth" was an award-winning tune. Yes, Peter, "Beth" is a wonderful song, but one home run doth not a Hall of Fame career make—even a blind squirrel finds an acorn now and then. The rest of Criss' Kiss contributions are questionable, at best. The aforementioned "Dirty Livin’" was weak, as was "Hooligan" from<em> Love Gun</em>, which he claims was "butchered" by the band. It should’ve been hacked to pieces, with lines like "I got a ’35 Chevy on a ’55 frame/Can’t even spell my name/Dropped out of school when I was 22..." Gee, just how long were you planning to matriculate there, Pete? The only other Criss composition on any Kiss album that cuts the cheese with me is "Baby Driver" from <em>Rock And Roll Over, </em>and even then it's the music I like more than the lyrics.<br /><br />--Peter even injected some unintentional comedy into the book regarding Paul Stanley: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"In his best days he couldn’t outsing me. He had no soul."</span> I gotta call bullshit on this one too, Pete. You ain’t a bad singer in a Rod Stewart-by-way-of-Eddie Money kind of way, but come on, Stanley Harvey Eisen is light years better than you as a singer. Criss actually does admit that his lone solo vocal on 1998’s <em>Psycho Circus</em>, "I’ve Finally Found My Way" (written by Stanley) sucked, but claims he had to do the song "at gunpoint" or he wouldn’t have gotten to sing on that album at all. He says he was perfectly happy with his first vocal take on it, but Paul said he "sounded like Jimmy Durante" and made Criss re-record it. So, how come he still sounds like Schnozz-ola on the finished product? Peter also says Ace’s "Into The Void" from <em>Psycho</em> "wasn’t really a good song." Uhh, Pete, you got kitty litter in your ears—"Void" was one of the few standout tracks on that half-assed album, along with Stanley’s title song and "Raise Your Glasses", while Gene’s songs on that record were largely forgettable. Anyway, more yuks from Shecky Criscoula: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"The years that Ace and I were out of the band were easily Kiss’s leanest years…it got so bad that one night they played for 500 people!" </span>Really, Bro? Kiss thrived at times during the ’80s non-make-up era—I was there, I witnessed it. The 500 people he’s referring to were probably the special odd theater gig or two Kiss played during that time, and that’s all those venues could hold. Come on, dude, just because your book has ‘make-up’ in the title that doesn’t give you the right to make up shit.<br /><br />--Several times in the book, Criss cheekily alludes to Paul Stanley’s sexuality and all but tries to "out" the man. True, Paul’s always been gender-bender to a degree, and even I have to say he has a nicer ass than a lot of genetic women do, but I think he’s straight—hell, he’s been married twice (to women) and has fathered two kids. And even if Paul is gay, so fucking what? We all got over Freddie Mercury and Rob Halford being gay (as if that was shocking). Meantime, Criss also talks about himself and Frehley grabbing each other’s junk and Ace allegedly blowing him (ewwww!) during threesomes, orgies and other hotel room frolics with groupies back in the early days, but he claims that was all just innocent fun because of that nutty guy Ace, ha ha! Peter even brazenly calls Stanley a drug addict. <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"By then</span> (the 1996 "Reunion Tour")<span style="color: #3d85c6;"> Paul was carrying around a huge Louis Vuitton bag full of enough pills to choke a horse. Paul was a major hypochondriac so he had muscle relaxants, tranquilizers, pills to make you tan, pills to make you lose weight, pills to get you going."</span> Let’s review here: Paul is deaf in one ear, has endured knee and hip procedures, cracked ribs, not to mention a heart abnormality that he has to control medically, and yet he often "takes one for the team" and plays hurt in concert year after year. That don’t sound like no hypochondriac to me. I call bullshit once again, Pete. <br /><br />--Criss calls Simmons and Stanley "Machiavellian" numerous times in the book. Damn, are these two really THAT bad? I’m beginning to wonder. He says, <span style="color: #3d85c6;">"Look at all the people they drove mad. Poor Eric Carr, the guy who first replaced me, was reduced to sitting in his hotel room naked with the blinds all drawn, drinking and refusing to come out. Bill Aucoin lost his whole empire on drugs. Sean (Delaney) went crazy. Howard Marks (subsequent Kiss co-manager) died a drunk. Neil Bogart died. They drove Mark St. John and Vinnie Vincent crazy. The list could go on and on. There was no way in hell that I would ever tour with those guys again."</span> I’m not sure what incident he’s referring to in regards to Carr here, but I will point out that Bogart died of cancer, totally unrelated to Gene and Paul’s behavior, and he was no longer involved with Kiss at the time of his passing anyway. Aucoin losing his fortune was his own damn fault, not Gene and Paul’s. Vinnie Vincent was/is a megalomaniac to begin with and Mark St. John apparently had his own personal demons. While I do have my questions about Gene and Paul and how they conduct themselves with their bandmates and management at times, I still counter that Singer (Schlep), Thayer (Butt Boy) and erstwhile Kiss guitarist Bruce Kulick have never exhibited any major issues with Simmons and Stanley, so maybe it just boils down to personality conflicts and a bad attitude/raging paranoia on Criss’ part more than any sort of hidden agendas Gene and Paul might have. Simmons and Stanley certainly come off way better in my eyes after reading Criss’ book, even though Peter no doubt had the opposite intention.<br /><br />--Just as an aside, I still can’t figure out for the life of me why, given Gene’s and Paul’s adamant anti-drug and alcohol stances, they’ve worked so closely with so many people over the years who had fairly immense drug problems or were connected to drugs in some way. I’m not just talking about Peter and Ace, either—I’m referring to Aucoin, Bogart, Delaney, producer Bob Ezrin (during both<em> Destroyer</em> and especially <em>Music From The Elder</em>) and current Kiss manager Doc McGhee, who himself was once arrested for drug <em>trafficking</em>! Whatever (and whoever) it takes to get the job done, I suppose, but it sure makes Simmons and Stanley look like hypocrites when they rip on Criss and Frehley for their past substance abuse issues, especially since both of them are (allegedly) sober now. <br /><br />To sum up, there’s a prevailing theme in the book that Peter’s problems were everyone else’s fault but his own. Yep, Peter—Gene and Paul shoved all that cocaine up your nose themselves to make you let the band and Kiss fans like me down by being a selfish drug addict. Violent outbursts with guns—that’s real bright. Marrying your second wife because she was a <em>Playboy </em>bunny and you were only thinking with your dick? Fucking brilliant! Hiring a Mafioso to handle your finances when you’re fresh out of rehab for cocaine addiction? MENSA candidate! Driving through the da hood in L.A. with $100,000 cash in your car and antagonizing some brass knuckle-wearing homey and getting your face rearranged? Rhodes scholar! This all coming from someone who brags about being so "street-smart" because of his rough upbringing in Brooklyn. When faced with raised eyebrows from readers like yours truly about why this book sucks, Peter will no doubt blame his ghost writer, Larry "Ratso" Sloman, saying he fucked up and didn’t write it properly. In several places in the book, Peter laments times when his young daughter Jenilee would read things in the media about his drug use and such or the nasty stuff Gene and Paul said about him. What about now? I realize she’s a 20-something adult today, but do you really want Jenilee reading THIS trash? If this were my autobiography, I’d be totally mortified. Is this how you really want Kiss fans to remember you when you’re gone, Peter? I would hope not. Had I known you were going to put out a crude and embarrassing memoir like this, I would’ve said, "Catman, don’t!" </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">From here, I move on to my next Rock otto-biography <em>Who I Am</em> by The Who's Pete Townshend. Clearly a case of Pete and Re-Pete...</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-30029094786371540132012-11-19T20:00:00.000-06:002012-12-16T00:33:31.580-06:00Concert #113<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band</strong> (Saturday, November 17, 2012 at Sprint Center) <span style="font-size: x-small;">Ticket price: $47.00</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53Wt4iZBKaMHae_6T3jNiAUYBJYvx2sAFJE-LB_BTLH-K1VnbHl70wuM-F4HywLJSJfRmBDHpvfv1DnLP4XrpVbEoKKX3wIp91gN-kVB5mX8Kz6dz8vxW_UPX32Bv7myefbIiUwZUFyI/s1600/Boss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53Wt4iZBKaMHae_6T3jNiAUYBJYvx2sAFJE-LB_BTLH-K1VnbHl70wuM-F4HywLJSJfRmBDHpvfv1DnLP4XrpVbEoKKX3wIp91gN-kVB5mX8Kz6dz8vxW_UPX32Bv7myefbIiUwZUFyI/s320/Boss.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Confession time: For years and years I loathed Bruce Springsteen. It wasn’t a personal thing, really, but in the late ‘70s when I was in my early teens and really getting into Album Rock radio, I was a bit narrow-minded (blame Ted Nugent) and wasn’t real impressed with The Boss and his music. I also chafed at how Rock magazines like <em>Creem</em> and <em>Rolling Stone</em> seemingly kept force-feeding this guy to me, making him out to be the greatest thing since Elvis and how he could simply do no wrong in their eyes. It also didn’t help that he was from New Jersey, which might as well have been New York City to me, because I copped an attitude during that time about anything even remotely connected with the Big Apple (except Kiss and "Saturday Night Live"). However, as time passed, I began warming up to Brucie, thanks in big part to 1980’s "Cadillac Ranch", as well as a song he wrote for my man Dave Edmunds in 1982 called "From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)". By the time <em>Born In The U.S.A.</em> emerged in 1984, Springsteen was impossible to ignore on MTV, and I was especially drawn to the concert video of "Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)" that featured Bruce's legendary band intros and I realized that this is what a band that's having fun on stage looked like. So I figured if you can’t beat him, join him. I STILL think he’s a tad overrated at times even today, but over the years, I’ve embraced his overall body of work, and since I’d always heard what a crowd-pleaser Bruce Springsteen was, I decided it was finally time to get out and see The Boss in concert. I deeply regret waiting too long and missing out on seeing the "Big Man" Clarence Clemons, but apparently the rumors were true—Boss Man puts on one helluva show.</span></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The show began about 40 minutes late and there was no opening act. As I scanned the stage with my binoculars before things got underway, I noted an array of musical instruments scattered about—there were enough violins, guitars, percussion instruments, horns (even a tuba!) and keyboards to open up a music store. Turns out the E Street Band has expanded a bit to 17 members, including a five-piece horn section, three back-up singers and an extra percussionist in addition to Bruce and the usual suspects. This dynamic kinda reminded me of The Who’s 1989 reunion tour ("The Who on ice" as Pete Townshend later deemed it), but instead of being an exercise in overkill as with The Who, the additional deck hands blended right in to the presentation and weren’t a distraction. The sound mix was a bit iffy at first, and it sounded like Bruce was singing into a CB radio early on, but things improved as the night progressed. The name of the venue, Sprint Center, was a misnomer on this night because this was no sprint—this was a marathon!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bruce kicked things off with an extended rendition of "Kansas City" (a morphing of both the Wilbert Harrison and Little Richard versions) that I might’ve saved for the encore, but hey, he’s The Boss, so what do I know? "Prove It All Night" was next and after that, the E Street band lived up to that title. Over the next three-plus hours, we were treated to 28 songs (29 if you count Buddy Holly’s "Not Fade Away", which Bruce sang the first verse from leading into "She’s The One") and a very energetic performance from a man in his early ‘60s. Apart from the receding hairline, Springsteen looked and acted like he was still 30-something. I was most impressed with the entire band’s stamina, especially that of drummer Max Weinberg, who never wavered once in playing for over three hours straight with no intermission and very short breaks between songs. Their next tour stop after us was Denver—good luck in that altitude! It was fun to watch the interplay between Bruce and the band, and it was obvious they were having fun up there and were feeding off the energy of the crowd as well. Speaking of the crowd, Brucie spent a fair amount of time in it, as he meandered through the audience several times to a platform at mid-floor, and even body-surfed back to the main stage during "Hungry Heart". The man is a trusting soul—I thought for sure they were going to drop him on his head... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I also liked how Springsteen doesn’t mind sharing the spotlight with his bandmates throughout the show. He knows it doesn’t always have to be about him, and it’s cool that he throws a bone to the other E Streeters and allows them do their thing for a bit. This was the first time I got to really watch Mr. Weinberg operate, and the "Mighty Max" was rock-solid with plenty of thump throughout on his Charlie Watts-esque drum kit. I also learned a new respect for long-time guitarist "Miami" Steve Van Zandt on this night. "Little Steven" always appeared to me to be a drunken idiot in the old videos (maybe he was), stumbling around and making faces, but in this show, he remained upright throughout and actually looked like a Rock star, and played well too. "Professor" Roy Bittan sounded phenomenal on the piano, but I really couldn’t hear much from his counterpart, ex-Pat Benatar keyboardist Charlie Giordano on stage right, who replaced the late "Phantom Dan" Federici. You also can never replace the late Clarence Clemons with just one person, so now Bruce employs a phalanx of horn players, led by the "Big Man"’s nephew Jake (Little Big Man?), who acquitted himself quite well on sax. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The show did seem to drag in places, but that had more to do with me, because I wasn’t totally familiar with some of the songs they played. Some tunes got stretched out a bit too, which I tended to lose patience with, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind, and at least Bruce didn’t pull a Led Zeppelin and take 25 minutes to play just one song. As I expected, Bruce played several songs from his latest CD, <em>Wrecking Ball</em>, and they were all quite good, especially "We Take Care Of Our Own", the title track, "Death To My Hometown" and "Land Of Hopes And Dreams". "Shackled And Drawn" was also from the new one, but it got stretched out into this pseudo church revival bit that I personally could’ve done without, but I was pleased that Bruce, to his credit, didn’t go off on any political tangents during the show—that’s not what I attend Rock concerts for. From what I understand, the Neolithic dipshit Phelpsians from Topeka were outside picketing the show, but they must have been on the main entrance side on Grand Blvd., because we entered from the east side and never saw them. Too bad—I’ve always wanted to flip these turds the bird in person. Come to think of it, "Shackled And Drawn" is a damn good idea for these losers, but I digress…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Springsteen’s core audience almost reminds me of Trekkies because of their fanaticism and utter devotion to The Boss, and many folks were jumping up and down and dancing like it was a Saturday night barn dance and hootenanny. I was also unaware of the Springsteenian custom of fans bringing placards and signs for to place song requests for the set list. This led to the obscure "Incident On 57th Street" getting a spin, as did "Fire" (the big 1979 Pointer Sisters hit), and I longed to hear Elmer Fudd singing it, but no such luck. Oddly enough, in addition to "Fire", Bruce’s songs that other people had big hits with were highlights of the show, namely "Because The Night" (Patti Smith Group) and especially "Light Of Day" (Joan Jett), which rocked the house to end the set. They did omit some of his biggies like "Glory Days", "Rosalita", "My Hometown", "Pink Cadillac" and "Born In The USA", as well as my personal Springsteen faves "Cadillac Ranch", "Human Touch", "Tunnel Of Love" and "Working On The Highway", but then again, Bruce could’ve played another full-length concert the next night and not repeat a single song from this show (apart from the obligatory "Born To Run") and it would’ve been just as well-received—that’s how deep this guy’s catalog goes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">During the lengthy encore, when the band kicked in to "Born To Run", the house lights came up and remained on the rest of the way, which looked kinda weird. I generally don’t approve of Yuletide songs before Thanksgiving, but I’ll make an exception this time for Bruce and Co. doing "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town", which the crowd just ate up. "Dancing In The Dark", which preceded it, sounded way better live than it does on record—punchier and grittier—and not only did Bruce re-create the video bit of pulling a dance partner out of the crowd, he rounded up one for young master Clemons and another for guitarist Nils Lofgren and a mother-daughter combo for himself. I also noticed a woman on the video screen in the front row who made herself up to look like Courteney Cox in that video—right down to the short brown haircut and same t-shirt. "Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out" closed out the proceedings and Bruce made one last trek through the crowd and proclaimed, "Now this is the important part…" when he got to the line "When the change was made uptown and the Big Man joined the band" and the music stopped for a video salute to the dearly-departed Mr. Clemons and Mr. Federici and the crowd reacted appropriately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wisely chose not to imbibe during this concert. I knew it was going to be a long night and I didn’t want to peak too soon, nor did I want to be running to the can every 20 minutes. However, I did invent the Bruce Springsteen Drinking Game during the show. It’s pretty simple, really: Before or during any song, every time The Boss does a "1-2-3..." count-in, take one drink. If he does "1-2-3-4...", take two drinks. You’ll be fucked-up in no time flat! Seriously, this was a most impressive concert. I’ve never seen a guy work so hard to please a crowd like Springsteen does, even though he really doesn’t need to anymore. Several times I kept thinking he and the band was on its last song of the night, and they’d still come back for another. If I were in a hurry to leave, I would’ve been as bewildered as Apollo Creed was in Round 15 against Rocky Balboa, but the longer the show went on the more I was astonished at the E Street Band’s staying power. Bruce left it all on the stage and won me over for good. Not too shabby for a guy from Jersey whose initials are B.S…. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>SET LIST:</strong><em> Kansas City; Prove It All Night; Candy’s Room; She’s The One; Hungry Heart; We Take Care Of Our Own; Wrecking Ball; Death To My Hometown; My City Of Ruins; The E Street Shuffle; Fire; Incident On 57th Street; Because The Night; Cover Me; Downbound Train; I’m On Fire; Shackled And Drawn; Waitin’ On A Sunny Day; Raise Your Hand; The Rising; Badlands; Land Of Hopes and Dreams; Light of Day. </em><strong>ENCORE</strong>: <em>My Beautiful Reward; Born To Run; Dancing In the Dark; Santa Claus Is Coming To Town; Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
<span lang="EN">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span></span><br />
Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-64420702691800769582012-10-06T07:59:00.001-06:002012-10-06T08:01:24.954-06:00Beating The Dead Horse, Part II<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>And now the companion piece to my previous post about that hallowed institution, the (C)Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame. This is the Crock section...</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>PEOPLE WHO ARE IN THE ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HALL OF FAME WHO I THINK SHOULDN’T BE</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(In order of un-deservedness)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>1) LEONARD COHEN</strong> Who the fuck is Leonard Cohen? I actually had to look the som-bitch up on the Internet to figure out who he was, and there is nothing even remotely Rock about this Cohen character. My therapist even said, “Ooooh, I can’t stand Leonard Cohen!” when I mentioned him, and added that if they ever create a lounge-lizard dirty-old-man Hall of Fame, Brother Leo’s a shoo-in for it. I’d rather see Leonard <em>Nimoy</em> in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame than this goomer! At least Spock <em>tried</em> singing a few Rock songs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2) GRANDMASTER FLASH & THE FURIOUS FIVE</strong> A fucking Rap group?!? Seriously? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>3) RUN-D.M.C.</strong> See #2 above. I don’t mean to sound racist here, but I can’t stand Rap “music”, sorry, Homeys. It ain’t Rock ‘N’ Roll any more than Zamfir and his pan flute is…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4) THE BEASTIE BOYS</strong> See #s 2 & 3 above. Black rappers are annoying enough, but white guys doing rap is downright embarrassing…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>5) JOHN MELLENCAMP</strong> Successful career, yes, but I just don’t get what this third-rate Springsteen wanna-be hick’s true contribution to Rock music is. His lyrics are empty-headed and lame, his music is ponderous and boring, and I’ve heard more than one radio industry person say he’s a real jagoff, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>6) MILES DAVIS</strong> A Jazz player? Then how come Louis B. "Satchmo" Armstrong ain’t in the Hall? Davis was arrogant enough that he would tell you himself that he doesn’t belong in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame. Chuck Berry and Eric Clapton should be in the Jazz Hall of Fame, then…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>7) THE SEX PISTOLS</strong> They get in on the basis of ONE freakin’ overrated-as-all-get-out album? What a joke…</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>8) PATTI SMITH </strong> In the HOF for what? Being a stuck-up ugly skank with an attitude? And her biggest hit was written by Springsteen. Whatever…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>9) ELVIS COSTELLO</strong> I’ve tried and tried and tried to get into this guy’s music, and I have failed to do so. Over-fucking-rated! He also gets points off for once calling Ray Charles a “blind old nigger”. No class…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>10) THE LOVIN’ SPOONFUL</strong> Very questionable credentials here. John Sebastian seems like a decent enough duck, and the Spoonful had a nice little chart run in the mid-‘60s, but were they really all that special? I still think they should have their membership in the HOF rescinded for that gawdawful performance at their induction ceremony—it pays to rehearse a little, fellas, if you haven’t played together in 30 years…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>11) PERCY SLEDGE</strong> “When A Man Loves A Woman” is a wonderful ‘60s R&B classic, and Percy had a great voice, but honestly, can someone name anything else this man did to earn induction? By definition, one-hit wonders should NEVER make the HOF. Not even Strawberry Alarm Clock, Edison Lighthouse or Steam.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>12) THE CLASH</strong> Like Elvis Costello, this is another act I’ve never “gotten”. I like a few of their songs (namely “Train In Vain” and “London Calling”), but I never saw them as any sort of torch bearers to replace The Who in the ‘80s like they were puffed up to be. Grossly overrated…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>13) THE VELVET UNDERGROUND</strong> Yeah, this arty-farty group really put out some toe-tappers. Yanni is more Rock ‘N’ Roll than this avant-garde excrement.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>14) THE STOOGES</strong> If we were talking Curly, Moe and Larry (and even Shemp and Curly Joe), I’d say okay, but not Iggy and the boys. Anyone who intentionally slices up his chest with razor blades on-stage is PSYCHOTIC, not a Hall of Famer!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>15) VAN MORRISON</strong> Another renowned singer/musician I just can’t get into. “Domino” and “Brown-Eyed Girl” ain’t bad, but Morrison’s voice is every bit as bland as most of his material, which puts me to sleep. Zzzzzzz…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>16) MADONNA</strong> Yes, the Material Girl turned the Pop world on its collective ear in the ‘80s, but I can’t help but wonder if her induction in the Hall had more to do with creating a buzz for that year’s ceremony than for her actual musical merits. Wildly successful career, yes, but Hall-worthy? I don’t think so, Madge. Oh, and points off for all the lip-syncing during live performances—you ain’t on “American Bandstand” anymore…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>17) LAURA NYRO</strong> Semi-prolific songwriter (“Wedding Bell Blues”, “And When I Die”, "Eli's Coming", et al) and inoffensive, for the most part, but how does she rate induction in the HOF? Not a terribly good singer, either…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>18) GUNS ‘N’ ROSES</strong> Debut album was a killer. <em>Use Your Illusion I & II</em> had their moments, but bordered on overkill and were indigestible overall. <em>G N R Lies</em>? Meh. And really, that’s about it. This band totally underachieved in my eyes—they could’ve/should’ve been the Led Zeppelin of the ‘90s, but imploded in a haze of drugs, inflated egos and arrogance. No fuckin’ way do they deserve to be in the Hall, especially ahead of the likes of Motorhead and Deep Purple, who paved the way for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>19) THE (SMALL) FACES</strong> Nice band that had a handful of hits in the late ‘60s and early ‘70s. Does this mean Badfinger, the Buckinghams and the Classics IV make it too?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>20) THE STAPLE SINGERS</strong> Again, nice folks who did well on the R&B charts, but hardly in the same league with the Four Tops, Temptations and the Impressions. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>21) THE GRATEFUL DEAD</strong> As long as these guys were around, and they only produced about half a dozen memorable songs? As they like to say on ESPN, come on, Man…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>22) DARLENE LOVE</strong> Another entrant from the “nice” category, but hardly Hall-worthy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>23) RITCHIE VALENS</strong> Love Ritchie’s stuff—what precious little there was of it—but I really think his induction in the Hall had more to do with sentimentality and potential than his actual career achievements. Questionable, at best, and his induction was only made worse by having that wanker Ricky Martin butchering RV’s stuff at the ceremony.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>24) THE (YOUNG) RASCALS</strong> Same dynamic as the Lovin’ Spoonful—respectable little chart run for a couple years in the mid-to-late ‘60s, but were they really all that influential or spectacular? Not especially…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>25) RICK NELSON</strong> Overrated teen idol whose heart never really seemed to be in his musical career—even in the ‘70s as an adult. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>26) BLONDIE</strong> Over time, I’ve grown to embrace their stuff a little more than I initially did, but to me it was still spotty at best. I like Debbie Harry a lot, but I think the band itself was overrated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>27) PRINCE</strong> All his pretentiousness and aloofness aside, is “dat little faggot with the earring and the make-up” really Hall-worthy? <em> Purple Rain</em> (the album) was brilliant and <em>1999</em> and a few others weren’t too shabby either, but that’s not enough for me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>28) R.E.M.</strong> Good, but not <em>great</em> band that reigned on ‘80s/’90s college radio. But the critics love them, hence why they’re in the Hall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>29) THE PRETENDERS</strong> If anything, I think this band underachieved as well, but that’s due in part to the loss of two of its founding members (Pete Fardon and James Honeyman-Scott) within the space of a year. Again, they were critical darlings, thus they went in the Hall the nanosecond they were eligible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>30) TOM PETTY & THE HEARTBREAKERS </strong> I like Petty, but I don’t really see him as a Hall of Famer. Nice career, and it didn’t hurt to work with the likes of George Harrison, Jeff Lynne and Bob Dylan, but I’m not completely sold on TP’s induction.</span><br />
<br />Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-27536582915880955142012-09-24T21:20:00.003-06:002012-11-27T14:50:05.903-06:00Whaddya Wanna Do With Your Life?!?<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>A while back, I was at Barnes & Noble in search of a self-help book my therapist had recommended to me, which B&N didn’t have in stock. But while in the store, I meandered over to the Music section and found Dee Snider’s autobiography, </em>Shut Up And Give Me The Mic-A Twisted Memoir<em>. I’ve long been a fan of Twisted Sister, and I thought ‘what the hey?’, so I dropped and gave Barnes & Noble 20 and snagged the book. Little did I realize it was not only a fun read about an ‘80s icon, but a bit of a self-help book in its own right. SPOILER ALERT: I quote quite a bit from the book <span style="color: #3d85c6;">in blue</span>, so if you’re planning to read it yourself, beware…</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz9KXFQhSYB_ypFOaB2nvgm2KoS8rSvCnQURRUBcHP_4dZQe8uu5jQ8ovMnDA9hc2JS3hKYPGAKg0iMTnV-ylS_UzOxuZQyx6wxjOiAO8dQMDJqmSqGwcxJJ91N_QJSPbSEI9Kj6WqYY/s1600/Dee-Snider.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz9KXFQhSYB_ypFOaB2nvgm2KoS8rSvCnQURRUBcHP_4dZQe8uu5jQ8ovMnDA9hc2JS3hKYPGAKg0iMTnV-ylS_UzOxuZQyx6wxjOiAO8dQMDJqmSqGwcxJJ91N_QJSPbSEI9Kj6WqYY/s1600/Dee-Snider.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On Dee’s strained and turbulent relationship with his father:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“My father fought my pursuing a career in music more than ever. After what he had witnessed</span> [a disastrous local band gig when Snider was a teen]<span style="color: #3d85c6;">, why wouldn’t he? He couldn’t have been more disappointed in the path his oldest son was taking. Once I had given up playing baseball completely</span> [his father’s chosen profession for him] <span style="color: #3d85c6;">and started growing my hair out (after an ugly forced-haircut incident in the beginning of tenth grade), my dad pretty much gave up on me. He barely talked to or even acknowledged me for years…In fairness to my dad, he was raised during the Great Depression, a time when dreams were shattered, not achieved. He was raised to believe that the only way to get anything in life is by fighting and clawing every inch of the way, and that dreams didn’t come true.”</span> This was beginning to sound eerily familiar to me…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dee (then known as Danny, his given name) and his sister gave a living room “performance” of the Human Beinz’ “Nobody But Me” for their parents that they practiced really hard for, and his old man immediately mocked it: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“What kind of stupid song is that?”</span> He went on to tell his friends about his “idiot son” and his asinine “No-No” song. Dee continues: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“Years later, my dad tried to take credit for my success, suggesting that his being so hard on me as a boy is what drove me on. ‘It’s like that Johnny Cash song “A Boy Named Sue,”' he proclaimed. 'If I wasn’t so tough on you, you never would have made it.’ To this stupidity I responded, ‘How do you know I wouldn’t be happier as a well-adjusted accountant?’ Dick.”</span> Ironically, my old man’s chosen profession for me was accounting. Dee’s old man and my old man should’ve gotten together and compared notes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On alcohol and drug use:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“Why don’t I party? Ah, the million-dollar question. Well, I don’t drink because I had a bad experience when I was fourteen. I got so smashed I couldn’t get off the floor and swore that if the good Lord above me ever let me walk again, I would never touch demon alcohol…As for drugs, I’ve always known I have an obsessive personality, and if I started doing drugs, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. Besides, I never really had a problem ‘letting myself go’…Am I anti-drugs-and-alcohol? Not really. I’m just anti-asshole. If you can party and remain who you are or become a looser, more fun version of who you are, God bless you. But if when you party, you become some shape-shifting obnoxious asshole who doesn’t know when to quit…you, I can live without.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“The unfortunate thing is, society has created an environment where people don’t feel comfortable letting themselves go unless they’re high or have a few in them. How many times have you been somewhere and asked someone (or been asked by someone) to do something such as dance or sing and heard (or said), ‘Just let me have a couple of drinks.’ Why? Because society dictates that it’s okay to get crazy, silly or act foolish if you’re high. It gives you an excuse to embarrass yourself. ‘Oh, I was soooo wasted.’ If I climb on top of a bar, pull out my dick, and piss on the floor and I’m drunk, they put me in a cab and send me home. If I do the same thing and I’m sober, they say I’m crazy and I get my ass kicked, arrested, or both. That double standard creates a dangerous environment…If you want people to stop getting drunk and high (especially kids), you need to change the way society perceives it. Stop making it an acceptable excuse for poor behavior. Stop portraying it as cool. And stop viewing outgoing behavior when you’re not high as weird. Then you’ll see some changes.” <span style="color: #cccccc;">I like Snider’s attitude, here. I drink (sometimes to excess, yes), but I don’t think I become an asshole when I do—I’m more of a funny drunk, if anything.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On his positive approach to life:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“…I came up with a new, personal motivation concept: PMA, or positive mental attitude. I kid you not. I believed that if I thought and acted positively, positive things would happen for me, and my positive thoughts would become reality. I still do. I now know that’s just another form of self-fulfilling prophecy, but when I was 16, it was more my becoming aware of the power of positive thinking. From that time on (and to this day), when people asked me how I was doing, I didn’t say ‘Okay’ or even ‘Good,’ I said, “Excellent!” Even when I wasn’t, this mind-set has taken me everywhere, and when things were bad, it kept me from wallowing in self-pity and negativity and focused on the promise of what lay ahead. Besides, it beat the hell out of such mantras as ‘It’s just one of those days’, ‘it’s just my luck,’ and ‘Murphy’s Law’. To hear kids reinforcing these negative thoughts in their young, fertile mind is simply maddening to me. Thinking like that sets you up for a lifetime of accepting failure. Screw that!”</span> PMA became a great source of amusement to his father, who was quick to throw it back in his face when something went awry. My old man would’ve done the same with me. In fact, he often did—anytime I expressed confidence or excitement about something, he’d find a way to piss all over my enthusiasm. Dick. (Hey, Dee started it!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On his state of mind following the infamous 1985 PMRC hearings on Capitol Hill:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“I was born in the ‘50s and grew up in the ‘60s and ‘70s. I was raised believing Washington, DC was sort of like Oz; a beautiful, special place where people watched out for our better interest and did great things. Sure I had lived through Watergate and the election of a B-movie actor and Joe McCarthy/House Un-American Activities Committee rat to the highest office in the country, but I still hung on to a childish belief that some good people were still working for us. Not anymore. Sitting face-to-face with these personal-agenda-driven opportunists, they beat the last bit of hope out of me.”</span> I find myself feeling the same damn way as I watch this current joke of an election campaign unfold…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Snider’s perspectives on other bands and musicians:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dee was heavily influence by the almost daily TV appearances by the Monkees and especially Paul Revere & The Raiders. <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“I was drawn to the subtle danger of singer Mark Lindsay from Paul Revere & The Raiders (whose) songs were innuendo-filled. Hits such as ‘Hungry’ and ‘Kicks’ were barely veiled songs about sex, drugs and alcohol. Mark Lindsay’s slight rasp along with the generally ‘heavier’ tone of the band’s music are recognized precursors to what would become ‘hard-rock’…and eventually ‘heavy metal’. I am an original headbanger and I credit Paul Revere & The Raiders for starting me down that path. Thank you, boys!”</span> Dee is slightly incorrect—“Kicks” was actually anti-drugs and alcohol—but it’s nice to see I’m not the only one who feels this way about this vastly underrated and underappreciated band. The Raiders were my first taste of real Rock ‘N’ Roll when I was three years old, and 45 years later, they still rock my world. Stomp and shout and work it on out…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“When it came to Rock bands and Rock music, no band was bigger than Led Zeppelin.</span> [Cover] <span style="color: #3d85c6;">Bands went to incredible lengths to play the most accurate renditions of Zeppelin songs, and the audiences demanded it. Playing Led Zeppelin poorly was sacrilege. The funny thing is, I remember seeing Led Zep on their 1977 tour and being stunned by how “inaccurate” they were live. Sorry, boys, but if a bar band played your music the way you did that night, they would have been tarred, feathered, and run out of town on a rail. Seriously.”</span> Amen to that, Brother Dee! Now I’m not suggesting (and I don’t think Snider is either) that a band should play every song in their repertoire in concert note-for-note exactly like their records every night (like Rush used to do, for instance), but Zeppelin was one of the worst offenders in Dee’s scenario and they were a very iffy live act, at best. Some nights they were fine, I suppose, but most of the live recordings I’ve ever heard of them aren’t very good. Too many long jams and self-indulgent tangents—damn near half an hour just to play “Dazed And Confused”? Seriously? The Who were known to indulge themselves now and then too (especially during the post-<em>Tommy</em> era), but at least they kept it lively and didn’t lull the audience to sleep like Zeppelin did. Robert Plant would also just phone in some lyrical passages and Jimmy Page’s guitar was often woefully out of tune.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On meeting Billy Joel and Ritchie Blackmore after a gig in the late ‘70s: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“Meeting these two hugely successful musicians was eye-opening for me. Where Blackmore was weird, standoffish and unlikeable, Joel was the exact opposite. Welcoming and self-deprecating, with virtually no ego, despite his multiplatinum status, Billy did everything to show how gracious and down-to-earth a star can be. When people spoke of Ritchie, it was with disgust and loathing. With Billy, it was only with praise and admiration. After the party that night I reran the experiences I had had with both Rock luminaries. I started to wonder how I came off to people and what they said about me after I left. In my heart I knew the answer: I was way more of a Ritchie Blackmore than a Billy Joel. I vowed to make a change, promising myself I would be more like Billy. I kept that promise…but it did take me a few years to put it into full effect.”</span> This is ironic because back in the late ‘70s, I always thought Mr. Piano Man came off as a bit aloof and his remarks in <em>Circus</em> magazine about Kiss (“I won’t associate myself with acts like that”) didn’t exactly endear me to him when I was 14, but over time, Billy has proven to be quite affable and not a bad dude. He even played piano on Twisted Sister’s “Be Chrool to Your Scuel” on 1985’s ill-fated <em>Come Out And Play</em> album. Ritchie Blackmore, on the other hand, has always come off as a moody, weird duck to me. Helluva guitar player, but all the personality of a ball peen hammer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“While my onstage rants are pretty much spontaneous, if I hit on something that works universally, I won’t hesistate to reuse it or modify it to fit the current situation. That said, I can’t understand how bands can use the same stage patter, verbatim, every night. How can it always be appropriate or not get old?...Triumph used to turn their massive light show on the upper balcony of the audience—every night, at the same moment in the show—and say “How y’all doin’ up there!” It would always get a huge response. Except for the night the show hadn’t sold well and the balcony was closed off and empty. The janitor up there by himself, sweeping the balcony, was doing fine…Paul Stanley from Kiss is renowned for exactly replicating his onstage speeches, every show, on every tour—even after they’ve been captured on live albums…You gotta keep it fresh, kids, and react to your surroundings—not every venue and audience is the same.”</span> I totally agree with Dee on this one. I’ll never forget the time I busted Stanley at a Kiss show in Topeka on the 1987 <em>Crazy Nights</em> tour when he went into his standard “I went to the doctor today to get myself checked out” bit, wherein he gets seduced by (or seduces, I forget which) a sexy nurse who gets to play with his “Love Gun”. There was just one little problem on that particular November night in Topeka—it was Thanksgiving! Except for ERs, there ain’t no doctors examining nobody nowhere on Turkey Day. Nice try, Starchild…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I love this story about a phone call Dee received one day after arriving in England for a tour: <span style="color: #3d85c6;"> “Dee Snider? ThesesBrianJohnsonfrumAhseeDahysee. We cannahafya settinya ‘otelrum onaMundeh-nightenNewcaseh. Ahmacomin’ tuh-gitya, me boy.”</span> In plain English, that’s “Dee Snider? This is Brian Johnson from AC/DC. We can’t have you sitting in your hotel room on a Monday night in Newcastle. I’m coming to get you, my boy.” I also remember once during an interview when it sounded like Johnson said ‘piss’ when he actually said ‘pace’. As Robin Williams once said of race driver/commentator Jackie Stewart: “…a man who speaks English, but still needs a translator.” </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Loved this story too, about when Snider appeared at the Grammy Awards in 1985. Also there was Prince, who was escorted to the stage by a phalanx of security people. Dee expounds: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“During the maybe 150-yard walk, the lead bodyguard was barking out orders to the celebrities and crew backstage. ‘Don’t look at him! Avert your eyes! Look away! Stop staring!’ As Prince and The Revolution passed a bunch of us (I assume they passed, none of them could be seen behind their security), the lead asshole tells Stevie Wonder to LOOK AWAY! Are you freakin’ kidding me?!”</span> Now, I don’t know how true the Stevie Wonder part is, but if this scene really happened, it tells me all I need to know about what a pretentious and arrogant little fuck that Prince truly is if he just can’t bear for people who admire him to even gaze upon his fey little ass. Get off your high-horse, Prince-y, baby—your shit stinks just like everyone else, you overrated little troll.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dee re-tells the story featured on the Twisted Sister VH-1 Classic “Behind The Music” segment about their show in England that devolved into an epic free-for-all with the crowd pelting the stage with anything they could fling at it, including human excrement. <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“Someone-a threw-a shite!”</span> exclaimed a bewildered Scottish roadie called Big John. Dee continues: <span style="color: #3d85c6;">“</span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Wow. Somebody had thrown human shit at the stage. My mind was blown. So many questions about this needed to be answered. How much do you need to hate a band to throw human shit? Whose shit was it? The thrower’s or somebody else’s? Where did they get the shit? From a Porta Potti (sic), or did they just have it on standby in case they hated a band enough to throw it? Or were they so angered by us, they dropped trou, laid a fresh one, then hurled it? Which brings me back to my first question: how much do you need to hate a band to throw human shit? It’s a conundrum.”</span> Never let it be said that Dee Snider and Twisted Sister don’t know shit(e)…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As with yours truly, once you land on Dee Snider’s official Shit(e) List, it’s mighty difficult to extricate yourself from it. He despised Twisted Sister’s third drummer so much that he wouldn’t even mention him by name in the book, only referring to him as “Drummer #3” (eventual permanent skinsman Tony “A.J.” Pero was Drummer #6, btw). And don’t even get Dee started on a certain Swiss metal band whose name started with a K (whom Snider only refers to as “Krapus” in the book) after that band reneged on paying his wife Suzette $1,500 for designing and creating their stage outfits for a 1983 tour. I won’t mention them by name either, but It doesn’t take Mr. Spock to determine that this would be the same Scorpions wanna-be band who scored a hit with “Screaming In The Night” and followed that with a bunch of lame and unnecessary cover songs like “School’s Out” and “Ballroom Blitz”. If Dee’s story is indeed true, then Krapus really are a bunch of Krap-weasels. No wonder Beavis & Butt-head didn’t like them…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">“People often ask me what I think of current trends in music, and for the past 25 years or so I’ve said the same thing: ‘Not enough middle finger.’ Since my heyday, I’ve liked a lot of contemporary heavy music. I even liked Grunge—the Hair-Metal slayer—but in the 1990s and 2000s—and even still today—there’s just too much whining and complaining about how life sucks, and not enough middle finger. Back in the day, we didn’t complain about stuff, we railed against it, and if we couldn’t do anything about it, we shook our ‘junk’ in its face. That was the youth attitude of the time, and ‘80s metal bands exemplified that fuck-you state of mind. We <em>weren’t gonna take it</em>!”</span> Ain’t that the truth? All that “life sucks” attitude is why I despise so much of the music from the ‘90s and the ’00s (uh-ohs is more like it). Oh, and another thing: FUCK Kurt Cobain! There, I said it…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My own random thoughts on Dee Snider/Twisted Sister:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It’s easy to forget that Dee Snider was NOT an original member of Twisted Sister, even though he’s the person who is the most associated with the band. TS was actually formed by lead guitarist Jay Jay French almost four years before Snider joined in 1976, and the group went through numerous personnel changes (three singers, four guitar players, two bass players and seven drummers, according to French) and musical genres (including Top 40 covers and even disco, believe it or not) before evolving into the Heavy Metal outfit we know and love (well some of us do, anyhow). French (who was often confused for Ace Frehley of Kiss without makeup) is the only Sister to make the entire 40-some-odd-year Twisted odyssey, but it seems to me that this was a truly odd band dynamic to have another guy come along in midstream and essentially take over the band, run it like it was his own baby and become the focal point of it. Snider wrote all the songs himself, made all the important creative decisions and did all the “heavy lifting”, you might say, while Suzette designed all the band’s stage costumes and basically created the pseudo-transgendered Twisted Sister motif—unwittingly inventing “Hair Metal” in the process!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Meanwhile, Jay Jay tended to the business end (until the band had proper management and got a record deal, anyway) and the other members of Twisted Sister—co-lead guitarist Eddie “Fingers” Ojeda, drummer A.J. Pero and bassist Mark “The Animal” Mendoza (himself a close friend of Snider’s and best man at his wedding to Suzette) seemingly more or less just tagged along for the ride. Dee accurately points out in the book that while French and Ojeda were certainly capable musicians and definitely had the Hair Metal “look”, neither of them were terribly flashy guitarists in the Eddie Van Halen/Randy Rhoads “Guitar God” vein, thus TS couldn’t really compete with the likes of Judas Priest or Iron Maiden for long. Snider himself didn’t really develop any sort of front man sex appeal to run with contemporaries like of Whitesnake’s David Coverdale, Vince Neil of Motley Crue or even Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. Anyway, Snider’s omnipotence created some very understandable rifts and dissention within the group, so Twisted Sister’s rapid descent after peaking in 1984 with the mammoth <em>Stay Hungry</em> album was not only predictable, but inevitable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Even though Dee Snider always came off a braggart and boastful in a Nugent-esque sort of way, I’ve always liked him for some reason. Off stage, he seems very down-to-earth and even a bit humble at times, and he was never quite as crazy as his on-stage persona would dictate. One thing I did always take issue with Snider on was how he would on occasion call out anyone in the crowd who wasn’t getting into the performance to his satisfaction. This became a bit of a trademark for Snider over the years, and I remember the time I saw Twisted Sister open for Iron Maiden in 1984, he targeted some guy in a white shirt in the back row of the lower deck on the side of Kemper Arena and berated him for the longest time all because he just stood there stoically with his arms folded. Dude, whatever—it’s not your place to tell someone how to party, so why waste the rest of the audience’s time badgering one indifferent person? The guy was probably there to see Maiden anyhow and I thought this was very uncool—what’s up with the schoolyard bully routine? Dee was also known to charge into the crowd and go after any knuckleheads who might have crossed him during the show—with mixed results. But, by his own admission, Snider was such an arrogant fuck at that point, there was no stopping him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was a bit disappointed that Snider made no mention of the “Behind The Music” segment in his book, especially something Mark “The Animal” Mendoza said about Snider after the demise of the band in which he didn’t care if Dee was alive or dead at that point, and basically “Good riddance to an asshole.” This coming from a guy who was once Dee’s best friend—pretty strong words. Obviously, they’ve patched up their differences since then, and TS reformed in 2002 and have toured off and on since then.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I find it truly amazing how, given the lifestyle he chose to pursue, Dee Snider has been married to the same woman for 30 years now, and they’ve raised four kids (successfully, evidently) as well. In a truly unorthodox love story, Snider met his future (underage at the time) bride Suzette at a band gig when she was only 15 and he became as obsessed with her as Milburn Drysdale was with Jed Clampett’s millions. She didn’t even really like him all that much at first, but he somehow wooed her and they’ve been an item since the Bicentennial, even though they’ve endured a plethora of ups and downs during that time. I guess maybe there is still such a thing as loyalty and devotion after all. And I gotta give Dee credit, she’s a real hottie (even today), as is their daughter Cheyenne, who looks just like her. As John Hiatt once sang about his own daughter Georgia Rae, “Lucky for you, child, you look like your mama…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I’ll be damned, but I can’t believe I never did a proper Twisted Sister blog tribute before now, so without further ado…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>MY ALL-TIME (DROP AND GIVE ME) 20 TWISTED SISTER FAVORITES</strong></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQi_8fyqPgsNouirIBsnEsDBIGtKjX4j57eAuJ_0emrdn92_T0SR733XJzxgruKCeGyWYanFDa4HQP75zwiNDsLHsBtJvyhRfkZH_h6vflNOln0AuXnpHMV-OpVQKatRBv2sNYKZW0rjo/s1600/twisted_sister_-_band.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQi_8fyqPgsNouirIBsnEsDBIGtKjX4j57eAuJ_0emrdn92_T0SR733XJzxgruKCeGyWYanFDa4HQP75zwiNDsLHsBtJvyhRfkZH_h6vflNOln0AuXnpHMV-OpVQKatRBv2sNYKZW0rjo/s320/twisted_sister_-_band.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>20) “O, Come All Ye Faithful” (2006)</strong> I didn’t even realize until I read the book that “We’re Not Gonna Take It” sounds like the refrain from this yuletide tribute to mass orgasm. Which is why, as George Carlin once pointed out, “they called it ‘Adeste Fidelis’ to cool you out while you were in puberty.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>19) “Don’t Let Me Down” (1984)</strong> This one could’ve been a potential hit single, I think, but Atlantic Records was more anxious for the band to record their next album instead of milking more tracks off <em>Stay Hungry</em>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>18) “Leader Of The Pack” (1985)</strong> The Shangri-Las’ classic oldie had been a staple of Twisted Sister’s act for years before they hit the big-time. Snider decided to dig it back out for <em>Come Out And Play</em>, an album on which he got delusional and thought it would be cool to bring in guest musicians like Clarence Clemons of the E Street Band to play on. Love the “Big Man” (rest his soul), but saxophones do NOT belong on a Heavy Metal record. Ever! That kitsch-y stuff might work for Meat Loaf, but not Twisted Sister. Anyway, “LOTP” was rather humorous in places.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>17) “Yeah Right” (1987)</strong> More or less the last word from Twisted Sister the first time ‘round, as it was the final track on the ill-fated<em> Love Is For Suckers</em> album, which was initially intended to be a Dee Snider solo album. At least it still had plenty of middle-finger…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>16) “I Want This Night To Last Forever” (1987)</strong> Also from <em>Suckers</em>, this song kept going through my head during a romantic night in Las Vegas in 1999 with the only woman I every really loved. It was the first and only time I truly felt like I had the world by the balls and I didn’t want it to end…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>15) “You Can’t Stop Rock ‘N’ Roll” (1983)</strong> Like most American Metal-heads, this was the first thing I’d ever heard from Twisted Sister and a portent of things to come…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>14) “Hot Love” (1987)</strong> The band’s final video and the beginning of the end. At this point, they even abandoned the trademark war paint and costumes just like Motley Crue and W.A.S.P. did, and looked like mere mortals in the process. Every time I hear the line “Should I pass/should I play?” I think of the old “Password” game show. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>13) “S.M.F.” (1984)</strong> Here’s a Casey Kasem long-distance dedication to Jerry Sandusky. S stands for sick. You’re on your own for the rest…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>12) “Burn In Hell” (1984)</strong> This one gets better every time I hear it. Surprised it didn’t land on some ‘80s horror flick soundtrack because it would’ve fit right in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>11) “Come Out And Play” (1985)</strong> Great title and lead-off track to what was otherwise a fairly disappointing follow-up to the mega-hit <em>Stay Hungry</em>. The album did have a couple other hidden gems, though—read on…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>10) “I Wanna Rock” (1984)</strong> The natural bookend for “We’re Not Gonna Take It”. Oh, boy is this great!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>9) “The Price” (1984)</strong> “’Cause it’s the price we gotta pay/And all the games we gotta play/Makes me wonder if it’s worth it to carry on…” How many times have I pondered that line over the years…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>8) “The Fire Still Burns” (1985)</strong> Not to be confused with Roger Daltrey’s “After The Fire (The Fire Still Burns)”, which came out about the same time, this was one of my favorites off <em>Come Out And Play</em>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>7) “Shoot ‘Em Down” (1982)</strong> From <em>Under The Blade</em>, Twisted Sister’s first album, which was only available in Europe for the longest time. Another middle-finger salute to anyone who offends you: “Shoot them down with a fucking gun!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>6) “We’re Not Gonna Take It” (1984)</strong> This should be the anthem for anyone who is fed up with our current political climate in America. “If that’s your best, your best won’t do…”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>5) “Stay Hungry” (1984)</strong> More middle-finger. “Don’t be sidetracked or shunted/let pretenders feel your bite…” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4) “Out On The Streets” (1985)</strong> The other hidden gem from<em> Come Out And Play</em>, and it reflects my social life and love-life these days: “Searching for something in this human zoo/Kaleidoscope of faces/Maybe, maybe it might be you…Someone listen to my prayers/Can’t help feelin’ no one cares/No one dares…When you’re out on the streets, livin’ on your own…you can’t understand what’s goin’ on…When you’re out on the streets, your heart’s your only home.” Sad, but true…</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K0qPiAnaGWu-TkTbaR_PrAXsOWCUAW_k5qycTDaE7Ry76zvVMT2lSwYJp28rLSCVzVzFyGYC0RXkNwf1wk1xCUPUJhK6ntgwW3v6RmwnyjCF97UJNASSKyTVFRVKwA3DKH8lhFHogvA/s1600/220px-Love_Is_For_Suckers_album_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K0qPiAnaGWu-TkTbaR_PrAXsOWCUAW_k5qycTDaE7Ry76zvVMT2lSwYJp28rLSCVzVzFyGYC0RXkNwf1wk1xCUPUJhK6ntgwW3v6RmwnyjCF97UJNASSKyTVFRVKwA3DKH8lhFHogvA/s1600/220px-Love_Is_For_Suckers_album_cover.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>3) “Tonight” (1987)</strong> Apart from Dee Snider himself, I must be the only person in the world who thinks <em>Love Is For Suckers</em> was a great album, and my top 3 Twisted songs all come from it. It was certainly more consistent than <em>Come Out And Play</em>, anyway, and I played the livin’ shit out of my cassette copy on my car stereo in the fall of ’87, blissfully unaware of how fractured the band was at that point. “Tonight” is all about high expectations and anticipation, and asks many a burning question like “Are you ready for the big game?”, “Do you wanna see us shake, rattle and roll?”, "Are you ready for the coup-de-tat at all?" and “Do you wanna see us put it in the hole?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2) “(Wake Up) The Sleeping Giant” (1987)</strong> Lead-off track from <em>LIFS</em>, which I felt took on a whole new meaning in the wake of 9/11. “It’s gotta stop—you know there’s too much at stake…Who the hell are they to say what we can do and how we can play? We got the numbers, we got the right, we got the strength and we’ve got the might…so wake up the sleeping giant.” Unfortunately, the giant was sleepwalking and attacked Iraq instead of those who truly deserved it…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>1) “Love Is For Suckers” (1987)</strong> Brilliant title and one of my all-time favorite album covers too. “Love—is for dreamers/Love—is for believers/Love—is for looooosers/ LOOOOOOVE—is for SUCKERS!” Ironic coming from a man who’s been married and devoted to the same woman for 30 years, but viewing love as I do through the bitter prism that only three-plus decades of dead-ends, false hopes, disappointments, rejection and total indifference from the opposite sex can bring, I can’t help but agree with Dee’s lyrics sometimes. Wouldn’t you like to be a sucker, too?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">[NOTE: I haven’t quite made that leap to embrace Dee’s PMA thing just yet, as you can readily tell!]</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-26785169933307558442012-09-02T13:47:00.012-06:002012-10-26T08:36:31.557-06:00Travelblog: The Big Easy<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>"Now, early this morning...I got on that long-distance telephone, and I called my mama...I said, 'Mama, this is yo boy, and I'm WAY down here in New Orleans, Louisiana'. She said, 'That's alright, boy.' She turned to my papa and she said, "Papa, our boy is way down there in New Orleans</em>—<em>we cannot let him stay out all night long!' She did. Long about that time, I heard my papa lean toward my mama...I heard Papa tell Mama, 'Let that boy boogie-woogie!' He said, 'It's in 'im and it's got to come out</em>..."<span style="color: #3d85c6;">—</span>Rev. B. Gibbons, Z.Z. Top (1975)</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've been waiting 28 years for that quote to sorta be true. After years of delay, I finally made my way down to Cajun Country last weekend and visited Baton Rouge and New Orleans (just in time for Hurricane Isaac). My good friend Tom and I had originally planned to drive over to the Crescent City in the spring of 1984 after visiting Houston, but my wallet got stolen while it was loaded with $250 cash, thus we had to truncate the trip and return home (me with my tail between my legs) and for one reason or another, I never made it down that way until now. Apart from some flight delays and the oppressive humidity, it was a pretty good little weekend.</span></em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZcgXgicAESMQjOh722WEPgSEskfSyuBYbNsQl2NZRchGZk5iy5Syplg_12W8BLkihzFqyX80F-ZZnF3DNwNrb0qQ6arKCQthaY2akAgEeBdhRmF5-upd9XnD-mM5tD24ZBVYvOZI5ts/s1600/DSCN1217.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNZcgXgicAESMQjOh722WEPgSEskfSyuBYbNsQl2NZRchGZk5iy5Syplg_12W8BLkihzFqyX80F-ZZnF3DNwNrb0qQ6arKCQthaY2akAgEeBdhRmF5-upd9XnD-mM5tD24ZBVYvOZI5ts/s320/DSCN1217.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">DEAF VALLEY DAY</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">One of my first stops in Baton Rouge on Saturday morning was LSU's Tiger Stadium, known affectionately as "Deaf Valley" because the fans get really loud here. It's not really in a valley, but the high-rise grandstands make you feel like you're in one, and this place is gi-normous like most all SEC football facilities. I was able to sneak in and get this field level shot from behind their old-school two-poster goal posts. I can see now why they play most of their games at night, too—it was about 9:30 in the morning when I snapped this, and it was already muckin' fuggy out. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRY9RDYeODoiJLk7KyC7aSE2mq9sm6znjjm76JmV4cJxpih8iN3q_Bqo4Cpfyb6_xb0cMkf8K_sUuDZ3Fi1qvhaftBczoIkDUFtTyrX4xMMbKbf4BLmq22E62hdUwFHnnlz3U-SNTsHfg/s1600/DSCN1222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRY9RDYeODoiJLk7KyC7aSE2mq9sm6znjjm76JmV4cJxpih8iN3q_Bqo4Cpfyb6_xb0cMkf8K_sUuDZ3Fi1qvhaftBczoIkDUFtTyrX4xMMbKbf4BLmq22E62hdUwFHnnlz3U-SNTsHfg/s320/DSCN1222.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>THINKIN' <em>INSIDE</em> THE BOX</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Just down the street from Tiger Stadium, I checked out LSU's baseball facility, Alex Box Stadium, and it's nicer than a lot of minor league stadiums I've seen. I guess winning the College World Series six times in the last 21 years or so makes them worthy, tho...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhM6dNAq1Y8f3cSjEIULcQZ8VSGEbhLR4UoxpHrIAL8DEwQ_02iGHSpKWCH5zG3jZD0GzDqsS52xMEUHgV0jOEAvRy-by4vmUOigKY5Mp5CkiGgmg4VZCtYFrETId4UB5fNw_fShxAW8/s1600/DSCN1227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVhM6dNAq1Y8f3cSjEIULcQZ8VSGEbhLR4UoxpHrIAL8DEwQ_02iGHSpKWCH5zG3jZD0GzDqsS52xMEUHgV0jOEAvRy-by4vmUOigKY5Mp5CkiGgmg4VZCtYFrETId4UB5fNw_fShxAW8/s320/DSCN1227.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>"JUST KEEP MATRICULATIN' THE BALL DOWN THE FIELD, BOYS..."</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And this is where the matriculatin' (and Hank Stram's incessant sideline yammering) took place—the site of Tulane Stadium in New Orleans, where the Chiefs won Super Bowl IV in 1970 and former home of the annual Sugar Bowl game until 1974. I had trouble determining the <em>exact </em>footprint of the stadium because of all the Tulane University dorms and buildings that have gone up since the stadium was demolished in 1979. But, I'm pretty sure that somewhere near the building with the garage door opening is where running back Mike Garrett successfully executed the legendary <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=coZxFtVsBVg">"65 Toss Power Trap"</a> TD run to break the game open, and the near sideline is the same one Otis Taylor bobbed and weaved (wove?) down to put the dagger in the Minnesota Vikings' hearts that day. Here's the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrSvYmSnyhw">tail-end of the game</a> from the original CBS TV broadcast with the late Jack Buck on the call, which I didn't know still existed. And I'm guessing Tom Dempsey's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrxTjgFYoU8">NFL record 63-yard FG</a> (also in 1970) would have been teed up somewhere perpendicular to that soccer goal off to the left by the building and kicked toward the left from where I was standing here. Tulane is getting pretty serious about building a new (and smaller) football stadium to the left of this photo as well. What goes around comes around...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwI-l8EwIiY-x3c8DH81Dj-2ldlaAfL9JfGG6de5G7HanFSq3bphttsW0GW0AG0qdzVNrCQgoGZ-rxyTFbzQaj6O0Bw_IqMCVygKCoT2vxLSqZ6AxcNfzIXhVfXUADVVAdwRjb0VCbRY/s1600/DSCN1233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTwI-l8EwIiY-x3c8DH81Dj-2ldlaAfL9JfGG6de5G7HanFSq3bphttsW0GW0AG0qdzVNrCQgoGZ-rxyTFbzQaj6O0Bw_IqMCVygKCoT2vxLSqZ6AxcNfzIXhVfXUADVVAdwRjb0VCbRY/s320/DSCN1233.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>THE PLANET OF NEW ORLEANS</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This is the vista from my room at the Holiday Inn in downtown Nawleans. I love having views of downtown skylines from where I stay, and this one was outstanding. Great location too, just three blocks from the French Quarter and just a skosh further than that to the Superdome. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to partake of or do any "Twistin' By" the pool.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9IBGWyqe_u5tiQ9JYHsKuBaR98_ANtvF7rc-MigRDGV3ciCgmDB0KVIcMFb8vclhQ3CDqdeJ8dQbR-hMxN6J0yAhaUS4X_bzb3m6ry92QbVB5Xl2HgSZZjyb5ofcNXFBYcIOBHbOnFLA/s1600/DSCN1235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9IBGWyqe_u5tiQ9JYHsKuBaR98_ANtvF7rc-MigRDGV3ciCgmDB0KVIcMFb8vclhQ3CDqdeJ8dQbR-hMxN6J0yAhaUS4X_bzb3m6ry92QbVB5Xl2HgSZZjyb5ofcNXFBYcIOBHbOnFLA/s320/DSCN1235.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"I WOKE UP THIS MORNING AND I GOT MYSELF A BEER..."</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Apparently you can that here, literally. Jim Morrison would surely have been pleased...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-QcsHi2jO1oJvQWpHPvNsnirYjBgjY5xCukVe6ahmtfzUqqyClISgGfwxSBFWJtAPkDisF0A3gyujqD0K2vr_TVmMo5igprFtuLfN5N2s0SKCxZcX1kUM8T3NoM2Hx_OIdOu9vfDs5o/s1600/DSCN1239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-QcsHi2jO1oJvQWpHPvNsnirYjBgjY5xCukVe6ahmtfzUqqyClISgGfwxSBFWJtAPkDisF0A3gyujqD0K2vr_TVmMo5igprFtuLfN5N2s0SKCxZcX1kUM8T3NoM2Hx_OIdOu9vfDs5o/s320/DSCN1239.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"WE BLEW IT, MAN..."</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You <em>Easy Rider</em> fans out there should recognize this. St. Louis Cemetery is located just off the French Quarter (or "Freedom Quarter", to youse Republicans) and it's where Peter Fonda, Denns Hopper, Toni "Hey Mickey" Basil and the blonde chick whose name escapes me had their <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzAB9CDqZOg">little acid trip</a> during Mardi Gras. Evidently, the cemetery folks were none too pleased that they filmed in their sacred territory, which is over 200 years old.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EvvONdGO3ZwwH7te74Y2pp0865JrhPISAfQrMOFCtEu5MOh4ommGe2ab5LTgOpgPOw0f_n8wNA8LZT8jdhYDasd1_y_-qDTsJ3pyn6hnGei0b08XvB363VWuVp9cCYeGNTACBjczuBI/s1600/DSCN1242.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EvvONdGO3ZwwH7te74Y2pp0865JrhPISAfQrMOFCtEu5MOh4ommGe2ab5LTgOpgPOw0f_n8wNA8LZT8jdhYDasd1_y_-qDTsJ3pyn6hnGei0b08XvB363VWuVp9cCYeGNTACBjczuBI/s320/DSCN1242.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">THAT LITTLE OL' MAN FROM TEXAS?</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And here is Billy Gibbons of Z.Z. Top (or a reasonable facsimilie of him, anyway) after having gone through Darth Vader's carbon freeze process. That's a live human being, folks, sitting there completely motionless like a statue for tips in the French Quarter. I've seen these dudes before, and I don't see how the fuck they do this in the best of conditions, but in the oppressive heat/humidity of bayou country, that dude had to me melting under all that garb. Did I mention it was humid down yonder yet?</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jnFTm9KfJvRrByGFsTjZGzybm8r40Y-VUzIM4L9KoY3xrnaNUXJlE_kRmbKRfnUDhpHcFqhr9-HHdR1hOv3a5Z0_EzD_KRqBmY9PmTb3uE7wpMITLIy1ITS9ErcLevaWj4UA_dqmJoo/s1600/DSCN1245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jnFTm9KfJvRrByGFsTjZGzybm8r40Y-VUzIM4L9KoY3xrnaNUXJlE_kRmbKRfnUDhpHcFqhr9-HHdR1hOv3a5Z0_EzD_KRqBmY9PmTb3uE7wpMITLIy1ITS9ErcLevaWj4UA_dqmJoo/s320/DSCN1245.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">WHEN IN ROME...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...eat as the Romans do. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <span class="userContent">This was my Saturday repast at the Gumbo Shop on St. Peter Street in the FQ and my first real taste of genuine Cajun food. Combo platter of shrimp creole and jambalaya, and it didn't suck. Not sure I'd want to eat it all the time, but I actually liked it. It was like what Campbell's soup could be if it actually had some FLAVOR in it. To all those who accuse me of never trying anything new, HA! I say. HA!</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1IaIVr8ipAw_XGMVKGuWDlDvOjyJ85xgey5yurFalBx4z7uy-yFZ_2pLoOSKr719kk2Y0P5h8OBuIRwX7m5mqpC1wUKFqZ1_7YHR_wz1X3jajei6T3RM-9JLZ2nlx0FhOTPAGd-6ids/s1600/DSCN1246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1IaIVr8ipAw_XGMVKGuWDlDvOjyJ85xgey5yurFalBx4z7uy-yFZ_2pLoOSKr719kk2Y0P5h8OBuIRwX7m5mqpC1wUKFqZ1_7YHR_wz1X3jajei6T3RM-9JLZ2nlx0FhOTPAGd-6ids/s320/DSCN1246.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><strong>THE DOOBIE BROTHERS DON'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE...</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="userContent">Actually, they never did—they're mostly from the SF Bay area—but this is the avenue they named their second album <em>Toulouse Street </em>after in 1972. The only doobies you'll find in the FQ are the ones you smoke...</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUaXqkWUnPHPis9wcyQdyWxSXw_4vGMGirp_hB_rEwppj72h_yoS-ZDAkNPK-v-a6Hywy6M7FtA5e48C-HbBKr84TbVVXl22aSygboj_1Axhb5mtVrw9z1gGmLAlvUz4jf1gJd7-Qwkk/s1600/DSCN1247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUaXqkWUnPHPis9wcyQdyWxSXw_4vGMGirp_hB_rEwppj72h_yoS-ZDAkNPK-v-a6Hywy6M7FtA5e48C-HbBKr84TbVVXl22aSygboj_1Axhb5mtVrw9z1gGmLAlvUz4jf1gJd7-Qwkk/s320/DSCN1247.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><strong>VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC HER, CE SOIR?</strong></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="userContent">Ummm, mais non! I'm not even sure her was a her with that baritone voice I heard coming out of "her". Just a little example of what I saw roaming the streets (rues) of the the French Quarter. I was a bit surprised at how dirty and run-down the FQ was (in places, mind you), but overall, it's a trip within a trip. I later returned after the Saints game after dark (without my camera), and if I could sum up my overall impression of Bourbon Street/the French Quarter in one word, that word would be <em>Decadent</em>! Baltimore's Memorial Stadium was affectionately called "The World's Largest Outdoor Insane Asylum", but that ain't quite accurate—that title goes to Bourbon Street. I couldn't help but think of the words of Paul Stanley from 1984's Kiss <em>Animalize</em> tour video: "...you got a lot to be proud of—this place looks like a damn zoo!" Guys holding hands. Girls holding hands. Horses holding hooves—anything goes here, and I enjoyed the hell out of it. Hell, you'd never have known by the way people acted Saturday night that there was a major hurricane headed for town. And you talk about the penultimate people-watching place, this is it. And yes, the women really do flash their tits for them damn beads people throw from the balconies, and I saw my first live pair of bare breasts in 13 years, come to think of it. I think this place may well have been the inspiration for Ozzy Osbourne's "Going off the rails on the crazy train..." And this was just in August—I can only imagine what New Year's Eve and Mardi Gras are like down there. Would love to pay a return visit, but I think it would be infinitely more fun to "geaux" with friends or a group instead of "geaux"-ing alone.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEf4VKWcK5R5AP1-XFwnZBYIiWAN8YRyhWJSXJk3uWhmTqosxhtqj73dIGNbfM-_x-PPIKcH_ORbdSLFoxDdSl5q1sHjuif3q3FCtySbBW31bRYlSI-6ZpPe8pENQjzgdfMZe6XuKCUM/s1600/DSCN1251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsEf4VKWcK5R5AP1-XFwnZBYIiWAN8YRyhWJSXJk3uWhmTqosxhtqj73dIGNbfM-_x-PPIKcH_ORbdSLFoxDdSl5q1sHjuif3q3FCtySbBW31bRYlSI-6ZpPe8pENQjzgdfMZe6XuKCUM/s320/DSCN1251.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="userContent"><strong>"HELD WITHIN OUR PLEASURE DOME, DECREED BY KUBLA KHAN..."</strong></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've been dying to see this place since the day it opened, and it's pretty impressive. Not quite as big as Cowboys Stadium in Dallas, but taller, and not a bad place to watch a football game—for a dome, that is. I g<span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text">otta give it up to the good peeples of New Orleans, too—they love their Saints. They acted like this meaningless exhibition game <em>actually counted</em>, and reminded me a lot of Chiefs fans, only minus the tailgating and BBQ. Hard to believe this is the same structure that housed such utter squalor seven years ago this week, and they had a special photo gallery on display on the concourse that chronicled the whole Katrina nightmare and the refurbishing of the Superdome.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsNUrYFn0uO_POmwqoJxY6otBjUpNBFKJFJldRDHhFytzNhjb9PqUvMFqN0nE2y7uGh-hxv929stNJyiZH5Pap7dbhqAlsNYcR3PHDkdIO_5WtjB2uDxOELxyMkErtf9sXQejWc68I58/s1600/DSCN1264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" fea="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsNUrYFn0uO_POmwqoJxY6otBjUpNBFKJFJldRDHhFytzNhjb9PqUvMFqN0nE2y7uGh-hxv929stNJyiZH5Pap7dbhqAlsNYcR3PHDkdIO_5WtjB2uDxOELxyMkErtf9sXQejWc68I58/s320/DSCN1264.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span class="commentBody" data-jsid="text"><strong>THINKIN' <em>INSIDE</em> THE BOX, PART DEUX</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">P.A. announcer at the Stupordome encouraged fans to check out the Saints Hall of Fame inside the stadium. Being the HOF junkie that I am, I took them up on their offer. Well, folks, yer looking at it! Now, I do realize the Saints have had a fairly checkered history, but you gotta be shittin' me—a Hall of Fame that's smaller than a walk-in closet?!? If your Hall of Fame can fit comfortably into my bedroom, you've made some tactical errors along the way! By the way, young master Ellis wasn't kneeling in silent prayer to Drew Brees there—he was merely chowing down on his nachos.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>NOT PICTURED, BUT WORTH MENTIONING...</strong></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">—On Sunday after my French Quarter-induced hangover subsided, I took a little drive along the Gulf Coast and checked out Gulfport and Biloxi, and it was quite impressive. Too bad I'm not much of a sand, sun and surf kinda guy, tho—I fry like bacon in the sun anyhow. I also made my way over to Alabama and passed through Mobile for the first time since I was like three years old when our family visited there. Same damn battleship still resides in Mobile Bay too. Didn't have time to visit our good friend Benjamin "Bubba" Blue in nearby Bayou le Batre, tho.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">—Did I mention the humidity? No? Good-goobily-goop, it's muckin' fuggy on the Bayou! It was a shock to my system going from a land that's brown and dry to one that's green and wet, and when I stepped out of the airport terminal in Baton Rouge, I felt like I was inside a terrarium—and that was at night. It's even worse during the day, and I don't see how folks can stand living down there, but I guess you get used to it after a while. Speaking of weather, I have now completed the severe weather warning Superfecta by being in a Hurricane Warning area for the first time in my life (to go along with Tornado Warnings, Flash Flood Warnings and Winter Storm Warnings). Fortunately, I got the hell out of Dodge 24 hours before Isaac arrived. </span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">—I experienced my first flight delays as an infrequent flyer on this trip. My connecting flight to Houston on Friday on United was delayed by storms in Texas, and they actually moved me to another flight on American Airlines to Dallas to get me to Baton Rouge. I didn't fly to New Orleans proper because it was $150 cheaper to fly to BR, and I was planning to drive over there anyhow. Was fairly impressed with DFW aeroport too, while I was on the ground—very clean, nice waiting area, big TVs to watch, etc. Can't say as much about Houston's airport, though, where my return flight to KCI on Sunday was delayed for no particular reason (the weather was fine). The gate I had to wait at didn't even have a friggin' TV, nor did it have a jetway—I had to board the plane from the tarmac. Then again, whaddya expect from an airport named after Bush? Baton Rouge's airport was my favorite, though—small, nicely organized and completely navigable by foot. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">—While I waited to check my bags in at KCI on Friday, I was behind one Felipe Paulino, a Royals pitcher who is currently on the DL. Then, on my return flight Sunday night, I was seated across the aisle from none other than Stanford Routt, the Chiefs' new cornerback. Didn't know who he was, though, until we reached the terminal and one of those valet people was holding up his name on a sign. You see, I flies with da stars...</span></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-91094286780508098872012-08-11T13:01:00.011-06:002012-08-11T21:49:20.299-06:00Beating The Dead Horse<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I had nothing better to do and needed to get a fresh post on here, so I decided to update and revise a blog entry I did a few years back about that vaunted institution, the (C)Rock And Roll Hall of Fame, in which I listed who I felt belonged in it (as well as who didn’t). Since then, a mere handful of my choices were indeed inducted, but the majority of my list remains on the outside looking in, so it’s time for an update, the field of which I’ve expanded from 30 to 35. Keep in mind, these are all acts that have at least a legitimate chance of making the hall, and I’ve saved my sentimental favorites for the Honorable Mentions. I’ve also tweaked my list of UN-deservees as well, which I will save for a future post…</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>PEOPLE WHO I THINK SHOULD BE IN THE ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HALL OF FAME THAT AREN’T</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(In order of deservedness and why)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>1) PAUL REVERE AND THE RAIDERS</strong> I’ve said it a zillions times: Most underrated Rock band of all-time, period. They made way better records than the Lovin’ Spoonful, sold more records than the (Young) Rascals and could blow the Beach Boys off ANY stage, yet all those ‘60s contemporaries are in the Hall and the Raiders ain’t (and Spoonful and Rascals being questionable, at best). This egregious wrong should be righted immediately.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2) KISS</strong> I think the Hottest Band In The World gets in for their music ALONE, but if not, then you cannot deny the impact this band and its pyrotechnics has had on the way concerts, musicals, sporting events/Super Bowl halftimes, Olympic opening/closing ceremonies, etc., are staged.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>3) THE MOODY BLUES</strong> Even if they never made another album after their first magnificent seven from the ‘60s and ‘70s, they deserve to be in the HOF. Genesis gets in but the Moodies don’t? Come on…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4) RUSH</strong> Thinking-man’s Rock doesn’t have a spot in the Hall? Please. These Canucks have been together over 40 years (38 with the "new guy") and can STILL bring it today. Rush gets snubbed but mindless crap like Velvet Underwear—er uh—Underground gets in? Please.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>5) DEEP PURPLE</strong> Every bit as influential in the Hard Rock/Metal genre as Led Zeppelin, but DP doesn’t even get a sniff of the HOF. You’d think they’d get in for “Smoke On The Water” and “Highway Star” alone. Top-flight musicians all the way ‘round, too (regardless of lineup) and Ian Gillan is one of the greatest Rock wailers of all-time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>6) MOTORHEAD</strong> Ditto here, in regards to their influence on the bands who followed them. Metallica said it themselves when they were inducted—without Lemmy & Co., there would be no Metallica. No Guns ‘N’ Roses, either…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>7) CHICAGO</strong> Quite possibly the horniest Rock band of all-time (musically) and they keep getting ignored by the Hall just because <em>Rolling Stone</em> magazine hated them. True, Chicago wimped out quite a bit in the ‘80s, but their body of work in the ‘70s is Hall-worthy. And, oh by the way, FUCK <em>Rolling Stone</em>…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>8) GRAND FUNK RAILROAD</strong> We want the Funk! And that’s all I have to say about that…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>9) CHEAP TRICK</strong> The critics actually LIKED this band, which makes it a mystery why they don’t get considered. Consistently good on record, and like Rush, are still bringing it today.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>10) DAVE EDMUNDS</strong> One of the greatest re-workers of old-school Rock and Rockabilly music. It’s not as if he’s a mere cover artist (Linda Ronstadt, atten-<em>SHUN</em>!)—he takes people’s songs and makes them his own, like Smiley Lewis’ “I Hear You Knockin’”, Chuck Berry’s “Dear Dad” and Elvis Costello’s “Girls Talk”, to name three.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>11) THE DOOBIE BROTHERS</strong> Another ‘70s band whose body of work gets dissed by the “Academy” (or whatever they’re called). NOTE: They get in for the non-Michael McDonald eras <em>only</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>12) STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN</strong> Sentimental choice just because he left us too soon? Hardly. This guy was a KILLER guitar player who at times made Clapton look like that clown Esteban by comparison. SRV should be a no-brainer for the HOF.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>13) THREE DOG NIGHT</strong> The knock on 3DN is they didn’t write their own music. Yeah, so? The Temptations, Supremes, Four Tops and Dusty Springfield probably don’t have a single solitary composition amongst them, yet they’re all in (not that they don’t deserve to be). Another ‘70s hit machine like Chicago that gets ignored…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>14) JIM CROCE</strong> His career was all-too-short, but so was Ritchie Valens' and he's in the Hall. I think Jim had plenty more rolled up in his t-shirt sleeve (just like “Rapid Roy”) if he had lived. Totally underrated good-humored songwriter whose influence you can hear in the songs of Jimmy Buffett and John Hiatt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>15) NICK LOWE</strong> Without Nick, Elvis Costello wouldn’t have gotten far in his career, let alone the Hall. Lowe’s songs are witty and up until about 1990, he could rock with the best of them. He’s regressed somewhat in recent years with boring acoustic lounge-lizard type music, but still deserves a spot in Cleveland.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>16) JETHRO TULL</strong> Eclectic, to be sure, but strangely consistent for many years in spite of the charismatic and somewhat flighty Ian Anderson’s revolving-door band personnel policy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>17) HEART </strong> If nothing else, Heart should get in from a historical perspective for being the first major Rock band led by women, but Ann and Nancy’s music speaks for itself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>18) THE CARS</strong> Another band the critics just raved about, but like Cheap Trick, aren't in Cleveland. They didn’t even make my list the first time around, but the more I listen to them, the more impressed I get. Ric Ocasek always came off as a bit of an arrogant dweeb to me, but his musical sensibilities are spot-on most of the time, in spite of occasionally obtuse lyrics. And like Rush and Styx, The Cars showed that synthesizers—when used in moderation—are not so abhorrent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>19) JOHN HIATT</strong> Any man who can successfully work amoebas and porcupines into the same song (“Thing Called Love”) is Hall-worthy! Only lyricist I know of who ever used the word 'somnambulist', whatever that means. Easily the most underrated American songwriter of all-time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>20) JUDAS PRIEST</strong> The beast that is the Priest should’ve gone in the HOF way ahead of Metallica.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>21) PAT BENATAR</strong> Petite on height, but long on lungs—one of the finest female voices in Rock history, hands down. Extra points for being sexy while remaining classy at the same time, which many of today's female performers fail miserably at.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>22) DIRE STRAITS</strong> Quirky and subtle, but like Tull, strangely consistent. Most definitely a musician’s band.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>23) STYX</strong> Four triple-platinum albums in a row? "Mr. Roboto"/<em>Kilroy Was Here</em> notwithstanding, they must have been doing something right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>24) OZZY OSBOURNE</strong> Already in as a member of Black Sabbath, yes, but for a guy from whom NOTHING was expected when he went solo in 1980, John Michael Osbourne has been a major overachiever and wildly successful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>25) IRON MAIDEN</strong> Like Priest, should’ve gotten in way before Metallica. Maiden’s lyrical subject matter can be a bit tedious at times, but the music is killer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>26) BAD COMPANY</strong> I was never a gi-normous Bad Co. fan, but you can certainly make a case for their consistent body of work in the ‘70s as being Hall-worthy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>27) JOURNEY</strong> Steve Perry’s flakiness aside, this band ruled the ‘80s, and if you look beyond all the big hits, Journey’s “B-stuff” on their albums (“People And Places”, “Walks Like A Lady”, “Rubicon”, “Lay It Down”, et al) is even better than the “A-stuff”.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>28) R.E.O. SPEEDWAGON</strong> Like Styx, if these Midwesterners were from New York (Billy Joel, anyone?) or California (Eagles, anyone?), they’d probably already be in the Hall. You can’t tell me there’s no East Coast bias in music similar to the one ESPN has in sports.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>29) THE GO-GO’S</strong> Like Heart, they get in for historical reasons, if nothing else. An all-female band who played their own instruments and wrote their own music—that was a Rock ‘N’ Roll first. And it was pretty good music too...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>30) YES</strong> They actually dropped down a spot in my list, mostly because I’m not all that big on the Prog. Rock era from the ‘70s where you could time some of their cold and interminable songs with a calendar instead of a stopwatch, but Yes did have their moments now and then, and probably should be in. Oddly enough, my favorite Yes song is one Jon Anderson had no part in—“Run Through The Light” from 1980’s <em>Drama</em> album.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>31) DEF LEPPARD</strong> Joe Elliott’s voice has all the depth of a shot glass, but he somehow made the best of it, and there is no denying this band’s contribution to making people (especially music critics) take Heavy Metal seriously in the mid-‘80s.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>32) SCORPIONS</strong> World-class hard rock/metal outfit that is often overlooked by many dummkopfs (like <em>Rolling Stone)</em>. Achtung, baby!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>33) ELECTRIC LIGHT ORCHESTRA</strong> As with the Moody Blues before them, ELO successfully integrated strings and other orchestral instruments with Rock sensibility and made it work. And after all, Whama-lama, bama-lama—Rock ‘N’ Roll IS king…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>34) JEFFERSON STARSHIP</strong> The overrated Jefferson Airplane’s already in the Hall, and I still think that’s questionable. J. Starship’s stuff was way more consistent and less druggy. However, their inclusion in the Hall should NOT include anything they did without “Jefferson” in their name (to wit, from “We Built This City” onward…).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>35) THE TURTLES</strong> The Turtles churned out just as many Pop/Rock hits than their ‘60s contemporaries Lovin’ Spoonful did and their songs were WAY better, so how come they don’t rate with the HOF?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Honorable mentions</strong> My sentimental favorites whom I know have absolutely NO shot, but deserve to be in anyway: The Rainmakers, Black Oak Arkansas, Molly Hatchet, DEVO, Foghat, Divinyls, Barry White, John Entwistle (for his bass playing alone) and The Rutles.</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-19342216218848676472012-06-28T19:59:00.005-06:002012-06-29T20:51:24.714-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Tobacco Road Tour--Episode 2<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>The final installment of the journey takes us northeastward into the Carolinas. The last time I set foot in North or South Carolina was when I was about three years old when we went to see my Dad’s sister who lived in Burlington, NC. As acute as my memory generally is, I don’t remember a damn thing about that visit 45 years ago, so this was all new territory for me…</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-1bEc_usAeEb3xzhZ61vVhGgObY7KWW-8UP4nade9RuvS897YPkKlRAKugvqbRd9GsNWTYu3jAYUXSaCzkAceTG2alauKETcAXYpnOi8Gv88nF-p5_073ghvdyKNtrnoGDM24lBQ20Q/s1600/Fox+Theater+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-1bEc_usAeEb3xzhZ61vVhGgObY7KWW-8UP4nade9RuvS897YPkKlRAKugvqbRd9GsNWTYu3jAYUXSaCzkAceTG2alauKETcAXYpnOi8Gv88nF-p5_073ghvdyKNtrnoGDM24lBQ20Q/s320/Fox+Theater+04.JPG" vca="true" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>“LET’S PLAY SOME OL’ HONK!”</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Before we leave Atlanta behind, those immoral words (along with “Play it pretty for Atlanta…”) were uttered by the late Ronnie Van Zant at the venerable Fox Theater when Lynyrd Skynyrd recorded their classic double-live album <em>One More For/From The Road</em> in 1976. The place looks rather ornate, and like the other famed Fox Theaters in Detroit and St. Louis, I’d love to see a concert there someday. But why do they waste such a classic concert venue on the likes of Nicki Minaj? That’s akin to William Hung playing the Metropolitan Opera House…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN0O_qi6QghH1CdakjI_kKyZXuz67zzo0O3UES6Nj1YkmOcLatVkmVNQqhqqVyBwZ-UJjROPS15jcvtbD9r-o6rKXrb7V361j0HTBToJsNF32ICY7f66UhsaqEBJEj0ob9NsnhJafklo/s1600/Sanford+Stadium+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlN0O_qi6QghH1CdakjI_kKyZXuz67zzo0O3UES6Nj1YkmOcLatVkmVNQqhqqVyBwZ-UJjROPS15jcvtbD9r-o6rKXrb7V361j0HTBToJsNF32ICY7f66UhsaqEBJEj0ob9NsnhJafklo/s320/Sanford+Stadium+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>THAT’S S-A-N-F-O-R-D, PERIOD, STADIUM…</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This would be the home of the University of Georgia Bulldogs in Athens, about an hour east of Atlanta. Unlike most of the college football stadiums around these parts that have oodles and oodles of parking surrounding them, most of the stadiums I visited in SEC/ACC territory have virtually NO parking to speak of near them, which makes me wonder how in blue blazes they manage to get 90,000 people in and out of there on game days.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRdtELIjEf4UC2VGQVCY6VzM-k8N91yAhWovWhlQApjwjPe63l7fUhEN8nitNiGnyXgZ7QXoYcGfgOxmIOdF8QUftcu6uxaQ-WTXbs1obeppaVXTqlSdzkw0ixrdm-PHcQaokYoc1oc4/s1600/Ford+Focus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVRdtELIjEf4UC2VGQVCY6VzM-k8N91yAhWovWhlQApjwjPe63l7fUhEN8nitNiGnyXgZ7QXoYcGfgOxmIOdF8QUftcu6uxaQ-WTXbs1obeppaVXTqlSdzkw0ixrdm-PHcQaokYoc1oc4/s320/Ford+Focus.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>THE FOCUS OF MY TRIP</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here be the vehicle I rented from Enterprise, a 2012 Ford Focus that had exactly 10,000 miles on it when I picked it up. It got awesome gas mileage, 34.5 MPG, but I could’ve done without some of the bells and whistles that came with it, like phone gizmos and an overly-complicated radio/audio system. Not a bad car for weekend ride, though…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1772xGrGWdPZD3uXLwX4Gkhgj91sD_95qWbosBCN5cCrBXc9_D7-wTTMWXGj2BVpWwLCnKHvkCBTc4o1bkCBarut-WLNyEfDuiYZTiBAAHWKnfKt5vbtkAu4gVXBXd99ZtprdYZYMwM/s1600/Clemson+Memorial+Stadium+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL1772xGrGWdPZD3uXLwX4Gkhgj91sD_95qWbosBCN5cCrBXc9_D7-wTTMWXGj2BVpWwLCnKHvkCBTc4o1bkCBarut-WLNyEfDuiYZTiBAAHWKnfKt5vbtkAu4gVXBXd99ZtprdYZYMwM/s320/Clemson+Memorial+Stadium+02.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>GET A PIECE OF THE ROCK</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Clemson University’s Memorial Stadium is known as “Death Valley”, but it didn’t live up to its name on a rainy Sunday morning when I dropped by. In one of the cooler traditions in college football, the Clemson Tigers enter the stadium literally from the street on the east end and each player rubs “Howard’s Rock” (enclosed in glass here) before charging down the hill onto the playing surface. Fun way to get fired up for a game, it seems.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAM_ig-_0D-C9iBcYt6czXTBabT5VsjebKF3uBQrckJgQrhPE4yBzAG1D7LnTYQpbyGZ0AJgLhZgvBJd7zHtZTVfQL5TDWbxzAvgPtokFQkJPcO5FthmQVaWcTy07isTcqOkm9gsp-Wk/s1600/Clemson+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUAM_ig-_0D-C9iBcYt6czXTBabT5VsjebKF3uBQrckJgQrhPE4yBzAG1D7LnTYQpbyGZ0AJgLhZgvBJd7zHtZTVfQL5TDWbxzAvgPtokFQkJPcO5FthmQVaWcTy07isTcqOkm9gsp-Wk/s320/Clemson+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">V</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">ERY ESSO-TERIC</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I spotted this place just up the road from Clemson U. and had to get a shot of it. I love seeing vintage signage from “a better, vanished time”, as the Rush song goes, and this one made my day. I remember seeing lots of Esso stations during our family vacations down south when I was a kid, and this place appears to be an old-school gas station that was converted into a bar and restaurant, and the old Gulf sign was a nice touch too. All that’s missing are the “Regular” and “Ethyl” pumps and gas on sale for 32.9…</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOb-UThCX7S_lkHDqsm-8XCRaaLOHn23jTQd0n2l8c9D3kACbMllw4hVlFdK67BWracLs9aMTksabd_43BvbYMaGQcD3cIqSmkDav60Y3Qh8bo4kBgwQTaSxV4OF0BUMG3Tm47mhhRNY/s1600/Charlotte+Coliseum+Site+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeOb-UThCX7S_lkHDqsm-8XCRaaLOHn23jTQd0n2l8c9D3kACbMllw4hVlFdK67BWracLs9aMTksabd_43BvbYMaGQcD3cIqSmkDav60Y3Qh8bo4kBgwQTaSxV4OF0BUMG3Tm47mhhRNY/s320/Charlotte+Coliseum+Site+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>BUZZ KILL, 101</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Believe it or not, this used to be the site of Charlotte Coliseum II (aka, “The Hive”), the mammoth 23,000-seat arena where the NBA’s Hornets once played. The place opened in 1988 and hosted the 1994 NCAA Final Four, but didn’t even make it to the age of 20, thanks in part to its lack of luxury suites and semi-poor location out in the suburbs, but mostly thanks to the Hornets’ dickhead owner George Shinn, the NBA’s answer to baseball’s Charles O. Finley. The original Charlotte Coliseum (now known as Bojangles’ Coliseum—named after a fast-food chicken outfit) still stands and is still in use just east of downtown, while The Hive literally <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEWjuIKXln0">bit the dust</a> in 2007 after the Hornets moved to New Orleans and its site has yet to be redeveloped five years hence.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfI_VvSd7dDZgPye2rYhcFeLoJMit1Z4Kg1DNcgr9LuocRvGnlzFeuEpY-KdIEqKHWGfd7X3DbHeN7LLTLUg4xsZYrEF2kcMn8nbBdVAahaguorYd8Lif4poLHqE0ybUelp3dlbIdJrw4/s1600/NASCAR+Hall+Of+Fame+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfI_VvSd7dDZgPye2rYhcFeLoJMit1Z4Kg1DNcgr9LuocRvGnlzFeuEpY-KdIEqKHWGfd7X3DbHeN7LLTLUg4xsZYrEF2kcMn8nbBdVAahaguorYd8Lif4poLHqE0ybUelp3dlbIdJrw4/s320/NASCAR+Hall+Of+Fame+07.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>BOOGITY ENSHRINED</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Because of our central location in the contiguous 48, Kansas City was majorly in the running to land the NASCAR Hall of Fame about five years ago, but it’s located in Charlotte, where it truly belong in the heart of Earnhardt Country. I’m a fairly casual NASCAR fan, but I especially enjoyed watching the races back in the ‘70s (back when the number was the most prominent feature on the outside of the car instead of them being rolling billboards like today), and I follow it enough today to know who’s who, so I figured their HOF was worth a look, and indeed it was. It’s only been open about four years, so there aren’t that many inductees so far (no Dick Trickle yet, dammit!), but the exhibits are pretty cool, especially the legendary cars on display on a “track” that wraps around the main atrium of the building and also simulates the various degrees of bankings found on the different speedways around the nation. They also had some interactive exhibits where you can play pit crew and see how fast you can jack up the simulator “cars” to change tires or how fast you can hook up the gas pump gizmo, etc. If I was a more hardcore NASCAR fan, I could’ve spent all day there, but an hour’s worth was good enough for me. An absolute must for racing fans, fer sure.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxkimZThap6iH7-x7FF2h60Ml1HDBhSixm6zI1zIZUJTj4JuHeueOk4N1bqo-OpvOmf6_pty-9vva1KIW-yu4Ni1A_ptTfJxgatB2h6Zj90PNip5eeuRriw1lSG2nRMJNpDSxAZasbpQ/s1600/Groves+Stadium+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsxkimZThap6iH7-x7FF2h60Ml1HDBhSixm6zI1zIZUJTj4JuHeueOk4N1bqo-OpvOmf6_pty-9vva1KIW-yu4Ni1A_ptTfJxgatB2h6Zj90PNip5eeuRriw1lSG2nRMJNpDSxAZasbpQ/s320/Groves+Stadium+04.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>DOESN’T LOOK ALL THAT DEMONIC TO ME…</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This would be the Demon Deacon statue outside of Wake Forest’s football stadium in Winston-Salem. He didn’t scare me a bit. If anything, he made me hungry because of his resemblance to the “Struttin’” statue figure outside of Gates BBQ here in K.C. I found Winston-Salem to be a somewhat dumpy town, but then again, what should I expect from a city named after two cigarettes?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfDPuTYXag14O7GiZgf8P5lWfoj7cC6rgCrEGY74BZ5a8vu1AwZXor9R472pAqQCON6kMAqnEhYI_YBLL8vNQmlIJD7hQx2Ahyi54rNsiy10nI03wnGQ8ow9Z_5zLlBX2CLsr_AuM0Ws/s1600/Cameron+Indoor+Stadium+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfDPuTYXag14O7GiZgf8P5lWfoj7cC6rgCrEGY74BZ5a8vu1AwZXor9R472pAqQCON6kMAqnEhYI_YBLL8vNQmlIJD7hQx2Ahyi54rNsiy10nI03wnGQ8ow9Z_5zLlBX2CLsr_AuM0Ws/s320/Cameron+Indoor+Stadium+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>WELCOME TO KRYZYZEWSKI-VILLE</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After stopping the University of North Carolina campus in Chapel Hill, I drove the 10 miles over to visit the Tar Heels’ arch-rival Dukies in Durham. The bulk of Duke University’s athletic facilities are tucked away in the woods to the point where I almost couldn’t find them (my Maquesting efforts notwithstanding), and when I pulled up in this circular drive in front of the legendary Cameron Indoor Stadium, I didn’t even realize what it was at first. It don’t look like at basketball arena, does it? This is the back door that the “Cameron Crazies” enter through, which is adjacent to the Wallace Wade Stadium (which actually IS a stadium), home of Duke football. As with Georgia, I don’t see how in the hell they get people in and out for games—there’s like one little two-lane access road and very little parking near the venues, so I’m guessing that hoofing it is the best way to get to Duke games. Either that, or having Scotty beam you down...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXf_HpZbpo-10EraQNUE250h97yf0o4NxfGqtD3-_bHjwGo2k7QHR9dfwk1l-XF4iBFt41w7JR1kCSuP3AiKNUvYSgdffBHXy5cvUNj-aTyRqnb2jA6rMh0XhyphenhyphenVp-UsBnR9A4GIEzNi0/s1600/Durham+Athletic+Park+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaXf_HpZbpo-10EraQNUE250h97yf0o4NxfGqtD3-_bHjwGo2k7QHR9dfwk1l-XF4iBFt41w7JR1kCSuP3AiKNUvYSgdffBHXy5cvUNj-aTyRqnb2jA6rMh0XhyphenhyphenVp-UsBnR9A4GIEzNi0/s320/Durham+Athletic+Park+03.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>WHERE CRASH AND NUKE ROAMED</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This would be Durham Athletic Park, where 1988’s <em>Bull Durham</em> was filmed. While no longer a minor league ballpark, the stadium underwent a recent renovation and appears to be in immaculate condition for its age, and is still used by high schools and other ball clubs, while the current Durham Bulls play downtown at their new park. I never did see Susan Saran-wrap anywhere near there, either…</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiT_6D6RQonfTFKyCNzGD0kHXRm6ik28EG5SEr0Ln-7W8IyFPyW8kcB9O6K3eiH-iUv-LTVTFqXTSc0HApMLeQWEAhNt1aeEsi_DwgBilFLAqXMuu-9PvmQ_Z5gYCydpksGmxKbPDOck/s1600/Atlantic+Ocean+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiT_6D6RQonfTFKyCNzGD0kHXRm6ik28EG5SEr0Ln-7W8IyFPyW8kcB9O6K3eiH-iUv-LTVTFqXTSc0HApMLeQWEAhNt1aeEsi_DwgBilFLAqXMuu-9PvmQ_Z5gYCydpksGmxKbPDOck/s320/Atlantic+Ocean+04.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF REDUNDANCY DEPT.</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I snapped this photo in Nags Head, NC. To the right you see an in-ground swimming pool. Quite nice, but over the hill to the left of it is like the 2nd-largest in-ground swimming pool in the world, something they call the Atlantic Ocean! Sorta like running a titty bar in a nudist colony. And based on my vantage point on a very public wooden stairway leading to the beach, fat load of good the privacy fence does these folks, too...</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszXKhZ971ScGFWHYy79_VLAWMmyiLYJUd8gWbJfOqSU4QWluoos5IrATuMUaAVnQYMNCTybWLxyw7lmeW1g1SOgHKbmt2GaOgoCDCCa_dJFbinYWOQdHwTb1ybu7cZ1SOGUWv78KeAjQ/s1600/Wright+Brothers+Memorial+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszXKhZ971ScGFWHYy79_VLAWMmyiLYJUd8gWbJfOqSU4QWluoos5IrATuMUaAVnQYMNCTybWLxyw7lmeW1g1SOgHKbmt2GaOgoCDCCa_dJFbinYWOQdHwTb1ybu7cZ1SOGUWv78KeAjQ/s320/Wright+Brothers+Memorial+03.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>DE PLANE! DE PLANE!</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Just up the road from Nags Head is the Wright Brothers Memorial near Kitty Hawk, but not actually IN Kitty Hawk, which is a bit to the north. The monument resides on Kill Devil Hill, from which I got this shot of the replica of Orville and Wilbur’s first flying contraption. [NOTE: I mentioned Orville first for a change, since Wilbur always gets top-billing, for some reason. Gotta give Orville some love, too, folks!] </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsbYtE21YBwHT2dYxXJELD29kwS14Bt5I6MlX3SCTKAAwODe6GJaAkx3_43Vp4PKXa0fY_zhJG6k3yo8Bww0E5npHzAxKUyL0WkmGEfKZ_sS_NAHWt_ipK-r-aeGvqEqsWz-FI9-167w/s1600/Wright+Brothers+Memorial+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZsbYtE21YBwHT2dYxXJELD29kwS14Bt5I6MlX3SCTKAAwODe6GJaAkx3_43Vp4PKXa0fY_zhJG6k3yo8Bww0E5npHzAxKUyL0WkmGEfKZ_sS_NAHWt_ipK-r-aeGvqEqsWz-FI9-167w/s320/Wright+Brothers+Memorial+05.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>PRETTY FLY (FOR TWO WHITE GUYS)</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And on the other side of Kill Devil Hill would be the first friendly sky on earth, the strip of land where the Bros. Wright literally learned everything “on the fly” in 1903. It only costs 4 bucks to enter the property where all this went down—er uh, up—and there’s a separate fee for the museum, which I would like to have visited, but didn’t have time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIuOHf2ZfP485PVrMcPA0ajG5d4MvEG9sf8m5X1PayyTw2pzlK8nzuCpNnGlQnKjLJqiNxMEyD7ejnnim6rCwAyvUD02_bt_kSLqWTIL61I_m3VmqtM4MUOsDOSZ9pB-WfTR3XWD3hyU/s1600/Chesapeake+Bay+Bridge+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwIuOHf2ZfP485PVrMcPA0ajG5d4MvEG9sf8m5X1PayyTw2pzlK8nzuCpNnGlQnKjLJqiNxMEyD7ejnnim6rCwAyvUD02_bt_kSLqWTIL61I_m3VmqtM4MUOsDOSZ9pB-WfTR3XWD3hyU/s320/Chesapeake+Bay+Bridge+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>“WHERE’S THAT CONFOUNDED BRIDGE?”</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As I mentioned back during the Big Nor’easter trip last year, I love tunnels. Big bridges too. The outer banks of North Carolina and Chesapeake Bay area have a boatload of both, and for about five years now, I’ve been dying to drive on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel after watching History Channel’s “Modern Marvels” segment on it. It costs $12 one way (and $5 for a round trip on the same day) to ride, and the thing is about 17 miles long and comes with not one, but TWO tunnels that dip underneath the bay to allow ship traffic to navigate unimpeded toward Virginia and/or the Baltimore area. It’s pretty wild to reach a point where there’s nothing but water on either side of you and no land to be found—we don’t have cool shit like this around here! It seemed at times that the seagulls were racing me in the car, too. In addition, the Hampton/Norfolk/ Newport News area had several other tunnels burrowing under the various waterways in the region. Wish I had more time to explore what I found to be a nifty part of the country. I may well head back that way in October…</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvvwq4mAny70yoo_9uTQ84OZls5g3Hpl94vzyck0p5ert7fvdp30tkJThXRJZnyRMRatmDlBhOw-FHfEzL_6aIrevHyAzRJSkH0iakMGaemZ0x9VH1244BKWASwkBbPbjHamYyw8zhbA/s1600/Hampton+Coliseum+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvvwq4mAny70yoo_9uTQ84OZls5g3Hpl94vzyck0p5ert7fvdp30tkJThXRJZnyRMRatmDlBhOw-FHfEzL_6aIrevHyAzRJSkH0iakMGaemZ0x9VH1244BKWASwkBbPbjHamYyw8zhbA/s320/Hampton+Coliseum+01.JPG" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>TAKE ME HOME, HAMPTON ROADS...</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ironically, I didn’t see a Hampton Inn in Hampton, VA, but for my birthday, I decided to splurge a little and stay at a Courtyard by Marriott just down the road from Hampton Coliseum and the adjoining convention center thereof. The Coliseum was one of the homes (along with Norfolk Scope and Roanoke Coliseum) for the old Virginia Squires of the American Basketball Association, for whom “Dr. J” Julius Erving starred in the early ‘70s. More than a few Kiss and Rush concerts have taken place there over the years, and I believe one of the better Rolling Stones bootleg recordings originated from Hampton. Nice to see some of the “old-school” venues from the ‘60s and ‘70s are still functional and in use…</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-23058883400018091812012-06-19T19:15:00.004-06:002012-06-29T20:46:01.227-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Tobacco Road Tour--Episode 1<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I had a five-day weekend over my birthday last week, and decided to go somewhere I’d never been before, so I hopped a plane and flew to Atlanta, GA, spent a couple days there, then rented a car and roamed the Carolinas and Chesapeake Bay area for a few days. First installment here will cover the capital of Georgia…</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutNqQFde4adHvUmLDVf7vYZGQ2PXRuYzwzFhRbuSNiJGbhm32eBZ815fbXlb3ojey25eNat8uA3teeR0G-SmSjus18kXLlWTByUCU5zSu-pvrLknQV2avlRJFYh02KlGW8EGTPx3FLzg/s1600/Peachtree+Center+01.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgutNqQFde4adHvUmLDVf7vYZGQ2PXRuYzwzFhRbuSNiJGbhm32eBZ815fbXlb3ojey25eNat8uA3teeR0G-SmSjus18kXLlWTByUCU5zSu-pvrLknQV2avlRJFYh02KlGW8EGTPx3FLzg/s320/Peachtree+Center+01.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>JUST PEACHY</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here was the view from my hotel room on the 10th floor of the Holiday Inn in downtown Atlanta. I’m not even sure I want to know how much the rooms went for in the mighty Peachtree Tower across the way, but I got a pretty decent deal at HI for $115 a night. The location was perfect because it was so close to most of the attractions I wanted to hit in Atlanta, and three blocks from the subway for the rest, thus I didn’t even need a car until I headed out on Sunday morning for the Carolinas.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig59TxWxW-4pNJd9SMEe5OOIMybC7GnA4UJRGSqwi6O_6F6vLCT5KV5hOGLBR3_Oe4ClA7dbo3-iSGav9kvan-IGSlPmJPl93zRmXNfOOH0KyCle3_Sm4RC588zrx5JXU5tzSrqWxfFqg/s1600/Varsity+04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig59TxWxW-4pNJd9SMEe5OOIMybC7GnA4UJRGSqwi6O_6F6vLCT5KV5hOGLBR3_Oe4ClA7dbo3-iSGav9kvan-IGSlPmJPl93zRmXNfOOH0KyCle3_Sm4RC588zrx5JXU5tzSrqWxfFqg/s320/Varsity+04.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"WHAT’LL YA HAVE?”</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Varsity is Atlanta’s legendary eatery that I’ve heard so much about over the years. Claiming to be the world’s largest fast-food joint in the world, it’s about the size of an old A&P grocery store. The place is definitely unique, but after all the expectations, I was a bit let-down once I ate there. Apart from the onion rings, the portions were awfully small, and the DOUBLE cheeseburger I had was actually smaller than an Egg McMuffin. The food was inexpensive, not unlike at White Castle, but I was rather unimpressed by it. If I were a local, I don’t know that I would eat there all that often, other than for detox-ing purposes after a night of drinking. One Varsity feature I did find rather cool was the curb service where an actual human takes your order as opposed to having to talk through a speaker like at Sonic.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnIL5nCMr4ERFZvkKWmy27klZ3jEst93EJOaCKEVn-KjUCgcPl7RxHECKhzFtNo9CPJJRS4efRPvjhVkNtUht5Rpq-2TRs5V5_Np96k3FtIpclVDhHdXKXRYkHDAQvs57RGRExJr9r1Y/s1600/Philips+Arena+17.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnIL5nCMr4ERFZvkKWmy27klZ3jEst93EJOaCKEVn-KjUCgcPl7RxHECKhzFtNo9CPJJRS4efRPvjhVkNtUht5Rpq-2TRs5V5_Np96k3FtIpclVDhHdXKXRYkHDAQvs57RGRExJr9r1Y/s320/Philips+Arena+17.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>THE HAWKS NEST</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Philips Arena is a rather unique sports venue, especially its layout with all the corporate muckety-muck luxury suites dominating an entire side of the building, similar to Ford Field in Detroit. I attended the WNBA chick bassit-ball game there between the dreaded Atlanta Dream and San Antonio Silver Stars, which attracted about 4,000 diehards on a Friday night. Sadly, the crowd looked to be about 400 in this 20,000-seat joint—perhaps a smaller venue might be more appropriate for a niche sport like women’s b-ball. I also could’ve done without the P.A. announcer, who sounded a bit unprofessional at times by dissing the opposing team, which I thought was rather classless. The arena itself looked like a great place to watch a hockey game—unfortunately, they don’t have a team anymore since the Thrashers moved to Winnipeg last year. Another thing I found curious about Philips was how they posted out-of-town baseball scores throughout the night, but never once did they show the score of the Atlanta Braves game going on right down the road at Turner Field. Sour grapes because Los Bravos draw more fans, maybe?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlocEAkv86rEN3f5OVLU-WjycJIKR2ugoyVwU5Cpdm5EcEYowXZG9IrA_Esoi-jF7OwBewdFdIrv8dFwiRON0nM0-an99vTTte0Aw_1tfKvAcSVsW0LGbvrlIM7G5v6xJZvnCG-8A00o/s1600/Philips+Arena+14.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQlocEAkv86rEN3f5OVLU-WjycJIKR2ugoyVwU5Cpdm5EcEYowXZG9IrA_Esoi-jF7OwBewdFdIrv8dFwiRON0nM0-an99vTTte0Aw_1tfKvAcSVsW0LGbvrlIM7G5v6xJZvnCG-8A00o/s320/Philips+Arena+14.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>HOW’S IT HANGIN’, ATLANTA?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I love it when new arenas honor the ones they replace, and in Atlanta the main scoreboard from the old Omni Coliseum is preserved in the atrium lobby of Philips Arena, which was built right on the Omni site, sandwiched between CNN Center to the east and the Georgia Dome just to the west. The old Daktronics (or Dak-O-Matic, as I like to call them) board from The Omni is still fully functional, and is usually in operation during Atlanta Hawks games from what I hear, but it was off during the WNBA game I attended.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMI6gEaAuZ2o258pwfqf9djs9b8nS-rXLIki2Jdmv8Bx9LCu4kib7yyxWRaE54jczqOi_ogeHe3khYz4xesuMHQfawpcN1N-sqUJoPDwnctAyUsivOdneQmRgGdK3X5kA2qSnO6CldO0A/s1600/Omni+Coliseum+01.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMI6gEaAuZ2o258pwfqf9djs9b8nS-rXLIki2Jdmv8Bx9LCu4kib7yyxWRaE54jczqOi_ogeHe3khYz4xesuMHQfawpcN1N-sqUJoPDwnctAyUsivOdneQmRgGdK3X5kA2qSnO6CldO0A/s1600/Omni+Coliseum+01.bmp" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Wish I could’ve seen a game at the old Omni, as it had a rather unique layout as well with great sightlines, especially for basketball and concerts. The Police did their live concert video from the <em>Synchronicity</em> tour in 1983 at The Omni, and it hosted the NCAA’s Final Four in 1977. The only champion team the building ever housed was the International Hockey Leagues’s Atlanta Knights (an old foe of the K.C. Blades), but by the time they played there, the building was obsolete, its waffle iron-looking roof leaked, and the (intentionally) rusty exterior was becoming unsightly. I just happened to be up early on the Saturday morning in July, 1997 when they imploded the place <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYLaoLr02iY">live on TV</a> via its next door neighbor, CNN (complete with "suicide cam" inside).</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdQOUKDlAc4UvLA0M8ZWfv-Hc3IW9__K_tuNnbSk8tZVp_0mUq777t0tYQbFX4XtMtzh4-c0LOHbJrPjbH8j4r6c2QkrL2MoHQ814NnQBdu-VFlbw8RdnV1y7G4PeAhoEx725-s81Vtc/s1600/CNN+Center+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrdQOUKDlAc4UvLA0M8ZWfv-Hc3IW9__K_tuNnbSk8tZVp_0mUq777t0tYQbFX4XtMtzh4-c0LOHbJrPjbH8j4r6c2QkrL2MoHQ814NnQBdu-VFlbw8RdnV1y7G4PeAhoEx725-s81Vtc/s320/CNN+Center+03.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>WELCOME TO TED’S WORLD…</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">CNN Center and Philips Arena are literally joined at the hip, thus when I exited the basketball game, I entered Ted Turner’s broadcasting realm. CNN Center was a trip within a trip, and it reminded me of a Las Vegas theme hotel, only minus the casino. The atrium area is gi-normous, and it contains a large food court and shopping area on the main floor, with all the various CNN offices and studios, along with the hoity-toity Omni Hotel rising above it. The escalator (on the right heading into the globe) is allegedly the tallest in the world (so the tour guide said, anyway), and it takes you to the starting point of the CNN studio tour. By the way, I do hope the security guys didn’t catch me drawing that moustache on the big Nancy Grace poster…</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAozwSD8g2YOck2fguGIS7SFSeqDCyTYuIcRAXOQN9N80-7DXcVqxs4rl7a_kOAl77XgujEXagihE5OSqLCM1Ic6eeJUxphFrpmh3lDWTUeZkb2adk3lEi4LCrUq_3OHNOkHa9ctG46z4/s1600/CNN+Center+08.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAozwSD8g2YOck2fguGIS7SFSeqDCyTYuIcRAXOQN9N80-7DXcVqxs4rl7a_kOAl77XgujEXagihE5OSqLCM1Ic6eeJUxphFrpmh3lDWTUeZkb2adk3lEi4LCrUq_3OHNOkHa9ctG46z4/s320/CNN+Center+08.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The tour was well worth the 15 bucks, too. It was cool to see the actual news room they used to broadcast from, and it made me think back to the early days of CNN Headline News in the ‘80s, back when they used to do a fresh 30-minute newscast every half hour with anchors like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1p1GfXgOsI">Sasha Foo</a> (she was a real hottie), Sandy Kenyon and his “Hollywood Minute” segments and the late Jim Huber or Nick Charles doing sports headlines. The CNN people were real anal about snapping photos of the actual studios that were in use for live TV during the tour, but it was neat to see the studio (which is located to the left through the second floor windows in this photo) where my girl Robin Meade does her weekday morning show on HLN. Damn shame I couldn’t have gotten to Atlanta on a Thursday morning—you can actually meet Robin on the morning tours. D'oh! Weekend news chick Natasha Curry was on the air at the time I was there, and it turns out she is very pregnant—her belly is bigger than mine, and <em>that’s</em> saying something…</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GAHlrkRvcrMgWPL0tXFAx5ZfrKj2bzQRPQdhEo9EyijItS1ueL3xWCj_gAankwKziOvJO6tw6b94lRgD1kfmrIYdKNbHAzW5AUtMbJAXgoOzCoz5Uk55YI5SM9Q5WU1kyrC01Gcx5io/s1600/Atlanta+07.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6GAHlrkRvcrMgWPL0tXFAx5ZfrKj2bzQRPQdhEo9EyijItS1ueL3xWCj_gAankwKziOvJO6tw6b94lRgD1kfmrIYdKNbHAzW5AUtMbJAXgoOzCoz5Uk55YI5SM9Q5WU1kyrC01Gcx5io/s320/Atlanta+07.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>DIVERSIFICATION PERSONIFIED…</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This place was just down the block from my hotel, and it made me chuckle. We can only hope that the ice cream and cigars are SEPARATE operations—don’t nobody want no vanilla laced with White Owl…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uPjAI6B9oJpifsL7SNIkcQJve7nbKHpKyqSkc23EvngfOVJzGCivTFAHH1KJL-HxVtQCL9m-erxjZxs3EMfjXMXZcpVbEFRUxmrstP5aVYrut_Xey_Pca_1K98QR9nY71SPWolO5A4E/s1600/World+Of+Coca-Cola+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1uPjAI6B9oJpifsL7SNIkcQJve7nbKHpKyqSkc23EvngfOVJzGCivTFAHH1KJL-HxVtQCL9m-erxjZxs3EMfjXMXZcpVbEFRUxmrstP5aVYrut_Xey_Pca_1K98QR9nY71SPWolO5A4E/s320/World+Of+Coca-Cola+02.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>HAVE A COKE AND A SMILE…AND THEN WHAT?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">That pretty much summed up World of Coca-Cola for me. Coke is headquartered in Atlanta, and even though Diet Coke is my favorite carbonated beverage, I had my doubts heading in about whether this thing was worth checking out. But, since it was two blocks from my hotel just across the way from CNN Center and adjacent to Centennial Olympic Park (where the infamous bombing took place in ’96), I took a chance. I wound up pretty underwhelmed by W of C-C—there’s only so many ways to pay homage to a soft drink! I was expecting something more along the lines of the Budweiser brewery tour in St. Louis, where you could see how the product is manufactured, bottled and packaged, but this place was more of hodge-podge of exhibits, most of them aimed at kids. I made the mistake of visiting on a Saturday afternoon, too, and the place was like a damn zoo. I looked forward to the area where you can sample the various beverages that Coca-Cola produces around the world, but after trying the Italian version of Coke (which tasted like Kiwi shoe polish), I felt like I’d been slimed. Apart from the video featuring the vintage nostalgic TV ads for Coke from back in the day, the place didn’t really honk my hooter all that much, and it certainly wasn’t worth the 16 bucks it cost me to get in.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge658QXMpbM3INsdp2naYnE8WNo7cB4aGC_1nOCzI-XEzWNHG0bjQGLthYeYxporo3fJrTNdRoAfiSaQTl5Cu_ohvmM4rW9QR135HkxtL8YOF48n4qd9mtSEVnX6b5SyrbAHIdY6cQupc/s1600/Atlanta-Fulton+County+Stadium+Site+03.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge658QXMpbM3INsdp2naYnE8WNo7cB4aGC_1nOCzI-XEzWNHG0bjQGLthYeYxporo3fJrTNdRoAfiSaQTl5Cu_ohvmM4rW9QR135HkxtL8YOF48n4qd9mtSEVnX6b5SyrbAHIdY6cQupc/s320/Atlanta-Fulton+County+Stadium+Site+03.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>"IT'S GONE! IT’S 715!" (HAMMER TIME!)</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once again honoring the past, I made it a point before heading in to the Braves game at Turner Field to stroll over to the site of Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium (aka, “The Launching Pad”) next door. The exact spot where Hank Aaron’s record-breaking <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9T93yqPohM">715th career home run</a> landed in 1974 is preserved in what is now a parking lot, although that is not the original fence it sailed over. Just for realism, they should add likenesses of Braves pitcher Tom House catching the ball in the bullpen and Dodgers outfielder Bill Buckner scaling the fence trying to snag it. The original ball diamond is outlined in brick in the parking lot, and a good portion of the original foundation wall from the stadium (the blue wall in the background) circles the lot. Oddly enough, the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lwtbhqt9L84">Launching Pad was imploded</a> just a week after The Omni was.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgq-p33_KLcXaz46wYCaS_s-F2hGjlLhzNmv4CjtKrtQjtRxpkp-xMT59FP-7-UHIhEGSVAGDNrfh3ZKCm5tKrXIDfSxa81zDnoA8myJ1Fsld4wkxFVuLGYBPdycomK7u5UfUdAExOEBY/s1600/Turner+Field+16.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgq-p33_KLcXaz46wYCaS_s-F2hGjlLhzNmv4CjtKrtQjtRxpkp-xMT59FP-7-UHIhEGSVAGDNrfh3ZKCm5tKrXIDfSxa81zDnoA8myJ1Fsld4wkxFVuLGYBPdycomK7u5UfUdAExOEBY/s320/Turner+Field+16.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>HOME OF THE BRAVES</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Turner Field has never come across to me on TV as being all that exciting a place, but after attending a game in person there, my opinion changed a bit—it’s not a bad ballpark at all. I had a similar experience with New York’s Citi Field last September, and I liked what I saw when I roamed what was originally known as “Olympic Stadium” for the 1996 Summer Games. I caught a break too, with the weather for this late-afternoon game—it was overcast and in the mid-80s with a nice breeze, so things never approached “Hot-lanta” level as it so often does during Braves day games. The Braves did a fine job honoring their past (not just in Atlanta, but Milwaukee and Boston as well) with their Hall of Fame in the left field stands, as well as with statues of Aaron, Niekro, Mathews, etc. in the plaza area beyond left field where the Olympic part of the stadium stood briefly. And thankfully, "Chief Noc-A-Homa" was nowhere to be found…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>NOT PICTURED, BUT WORTH MENTIONING...</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--I found the <a href="http://www.underground-atlanta.com/">Atlanta Underground</a> to be largely underwhelming. I always thought it was like a hip drinking/dining district, when in fact it’s a predominately black-themed shopping mall below street level with a mediocre food court in it. Not trying to sound racist or anything here, but I just know that I and the three other white people I spotted there definitely stood out like turds in a punch bowl, and I didn’t feel terribly welcome, so I skedaddled my honky ass out of there tout-de-sweet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--The MARTA (Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority) trains were quite handy for getting around the city in. I rode the train straight from the airport to downtown, landing just three blocks from my hotel. MARTA trains got me within walking distance of pretty much everything I wanted to see, apart from Turner Field and the Braves game, but even then they provide a shuttle bus to the stadium near the Five Points station downtown. When I was ready for a car, I just rode the train back down to the airport and picked up my rental car, after navigating my way through the labyrinth that is Hartsfield International Airport. When I arrived on Friday, I made the mistake of walking damn near two miles from my gate to the baggage claim, not realizing the whole time that they have a train that takes you there. D’oh! Then when you want to get your rental car, you have to ride yet ANOTHER train to the complex that houses the rental car companies two miles away! Damn airport’s too big for its own good—it’s almost like a separate city in and of itself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--I damn near didn’t make it back to Atlanta on Tuesday in time to make my return flight home. I allowed plenty of time to get from Richmond, VA to Atlanta, but had issues when I got past Charlotte. NC. Some nasty little thunderstorms rolled through across I-85 with downpours so heavy that you almost couldn’t see to drive. At one point, I stopped at a QuikTrip for gas and ended up waiting over 20 minutes for another nasty cell to pass through. Then there was an accident near Spartanburg, SC that backed traffic up for five miles. I still got to the aeroport with plenty of time to spare, but I wasn’t anticipating such a stressful ride to get there. By the way, if you want cheap gasoline, go to South Carolina. I saw it as low as $2.95 a gallon, compared with $3.59 somewhere in North Carolina…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">--Folks in that part of the country don't seem to understand the concept of highway etiquette, especially the unwritten rule that slower traffic should stay to the right on the Interstates. That also contributed to my stress level getting back to Atlanta because every time I'd break free from the traffic, I'd come upon some Aunt Bee pokin' along in the left lane, and even the truckers—who oughtta know better—were doing the same damn thing. Very frustrating...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--I had never flown AirTran airlines before, but I came away fairly impressed with them. For both of my flights, they offered me a seat upgrade for an additional $15 (on top of the baggage fees I had to pay anyhow) to ride in the business class section in the second row, which made boarding and unboarding a snap.</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-39143963863950662512012-05-26T13:36:00.011-06:002012-05-27T20:36:48.855-06:00Concert #112<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>The Rainmakers/The Red Elvises</strong> (Saturday, May 19, 2012 @ Knuckleheads) <span style="font-size: x-small;">Ticket price: $15.00</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUD31tCgJOK8nwHSZbzGN4iHyatgDoRuemo9v5uO90hGOsi1pZ60DaMumpLHnWNKWCgQEMheQg9eEm6zDz9Mcg2l_XsbqwJHZrUIGgzSWF75WvBRSIR8Mm1KI-OpiGgrH7NgXu_ceL7Mw/s1600/Knuckleheads+05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUD31tCgJOK8nwHSZbzGN4iHyatgDoRuemo9v5uO90hGOsi1pZ60DaMumpLHnWNKWCgQEMheQg9eEm6zDz9Mcg2l_XsbqwJHZrUIGgzSWF75WvBRSIR8Mm1KI-OpiGgrH7NgXu_ceL7Mw/s320/Knuckleheads+05.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">371 days after my first visit to Knuckleheads, my friends and I returned there last Saturday night for our third encounter with the Rainmakers during that stretch, and this show was the best of the lot. The crowd wasn’t quite as large as last year’s reunion gig, but it was 30 degrees warmer than that unseasonably-frigid night last May, and our view was much better from the catbird’s section in the balcony upstairs, too (although I didn’t think to bring my opera glasses!). Unlike at the previous two shows (see <a href="http://www.hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2011/05/concert-110.html">“Concert #110”</a> and <a href="http://www.hollandscomet.blogspot.com/2012/03/concert-111.html">“Concert #111”</a>), the sound quality was just about perfect from the get-go this time, and just like the last two shows, the band was tight throughout their 32-song 2.5-hour set. By my calculations, that’s about 47 cents per song, based on the $15 ticket price</span>—<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">damn good value! The only true horror of the night was the Schaefers-inducing hot dog I made the mistake of consuming at the venue before the show. Yes, I know, too much information. (Thanks, but no thanks for the information...Because Information's got your #2...) [Sorry, Bob!]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">[NOTE: For the uninitiated, "The Schaefers" is my euphemism for diarrhea—it’s short for the Schaefer Shits, an affliction encountered by some guys I knew in college who downed too much Schaefer beer during spring break on the beaches of Padre Island in Texas. Also pronounced ‘da Schafas!’ in Brooklyn. But I digress…]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not a whole lot had changed since we last saw the band in Richmond, MO exactly ten weeks ago in March—apart from their wardrobe. Instead of all four guys wearing the same color t-shirt like in the last two gigs we saw, individuality reigned and it was “wear what you want” night. Bassist Rich Ruth had the most intriguing get-up, looking like a member of the Charlie Daniels Band in his cowboy hat and red flannel shirt (at left in above photo). The guys also actually did do some “Drinkin’ On The Job” throughout (but not to excess)—Ruth favored Heineken, guitarist/frontman Bob Walkenhorst and drummer Pat Tomek were Bud Men, and lead guitarist Jeff Porter appeared to be working the questionable combo of Red Stripe and Corona. The group seemed in high spirits, too, and it was especially fun to watch Walkenhorst shuffling and dancing around all night when he wasn’t singing, and contorting his face and throwing his entire body into the songs when he was singing. For a man in his late ‘50s, Mr. Walkenhorst acts very 20-something, and ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Bob also hinted that there may well be yet another Rainmakers album in the works (working title, <em>Explosion In The Dog Shit Factory</em>, he quipped), explaining that what was intended to be merely a one-off band reunion last year has been so much fun that they don’t want to stop. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, either. I was also able to snag a DVD copy of last year’s Knuckleheads show at this gig. This is a first—after 112 concerts in 33 years, I finally have a full-length video of a show I <em>actually attended</em>—thanks, guys!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">T</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">he set list varied slightly than Richmond (and was a skosh longer), and while I was most pleased that my personal favorite Rainmakers song “Reckoning Day” returned to the list, their timing was bad because I was on a bathroom/beer run when they played it. D’oh! And like both previous shows, all Rainmakers albums were represented at least once except (again curiously) 1997’s <em>Skin</em>. Knuckleheads is an indoor/outdoor venue that abuts an active railroad line, and Casey Jones came chugging by tooting his horn during “The Wages Of Sin”, prompting Walkenhorst to sing (without missing a beat) “Just about then I heard a…train” instead of “a knock on the door”. “Drinkin’ On The Job” returned from its Richmond sabbatical to the set list, during which the band lurched briefly into C.C.R.’s “Fortunate Son” and Bob Dylan’s “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35” (better known to most folks as “Everybody Must Get Stoned”). "Like Dogs" from their latest album <em>25 On </em>also returned to the list and my friends were ribbing me about it, especially Walkenhorst's line, "If you don't like dogs, what's your fuckin' problem?" Well, brother Bob, it's like this...you've obviously never been to my house in Raytown and had to endure the Bark-O-Matic nextdoor that has tortured me and kept me awake at night for years—you seriously might change your tune if you ever do drop by. Anyway, a</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">part from another personal favorite, “Tornado Of Love”, being overlooked for the third straight time (WTF, guys?!?), this was about as perfect a Rainmakers set list as you’re gonna get. As in Richmond, a rousing rendition of “Big Fat Blonde” (the cousin of AC/DC's "Whole Lotta Rosie") concluded the proceedings.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMAySGK9VzL3c3K7Wr_FMa2yO0yIQcjqn2uEQ0mKcDoRblLpXUGWYnxYEdnqIyY3cIwb1vafYROHSkXGHJSup3EIK4FblHQSJQGp_8-pfzzSsVw1P9X3uNUr-nhGVxOVDPbnOY2ifQBw/s1600/Knuckleheads+02.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMAySGK9VzL3c3K7Wr_FMa2yO0yIQcjqn2uEQ0mKcDoRblLpXUGWYnxYEdnqIyY3cIwb1vafYROHSkXGHJSup3EIK4FblHQSJQGp_8-pfzzSsVw1P9X3uNUr-nhGVxOVDPbnOY2ifQBw/s320/Knuckleheads+02.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was also quite impressed with the evening’s opening act, the Red Elvises (Red Elvi?)—too bad I was unable to actually WATCH their full set. Knuckleheads lived up to their name by being greedy and charging two separate admissions—10 bucks got you in for the opening act on their indoor stage ONLY, while 15 bucks gained you access to the outdoor stage for the Rainmakers. Trouble is, the indoor stage is at the opposite end of the venue (to the left in this photo), and there’s a wall separating them as well. That poses a bit of a problem when you’re trying to stake your claim to good seats in the balcony for the headline act while you wait for your friends to arrive. While it was cool that K-Heads piped in the audio/video from the Elvises to the main stage, their obsolete and weather-worn outdoor big-screen TV was too blurry and fuzzy (bluzzy?), rendering it virtually unwatchable. I see no good reason why the Elvi couldn’t have played the main stage ahead of the Rainmakers—it’s not like they had a massive Kiss-like stage rig to tear down or anything between sets. Suffice it to say I’m not a terribly big fan of Knuckleheads—their layout and set-up are just too dodgy for my liking, and don’t even get me started on the food. They’re lone saving grace is (relatively) cheap beer.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNllQobeBEZhYlquMBR2MFBxnVU3p07JgZ48ZGXqnz-2dJUW6u_BnA28Xh8EBUGhRjS8mg3pX3CQLI3-hPsSRGBxTjEHX9JUhdc7ozWmLAy_R3_9c20yoQZ_-jxb2yBWn8PavulBjf38/s1600/Red+Elvises+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzNllQobeBEZhYlquMBR2MFBxnVU3p07JgZ48ZGXqnz-2dJUW6u_BnA28Xh8EBUGhRjS8mg3pX3CQLI3-hPsSRGBxTjEHX9JUhdc7ozWmLAy_R3_9c20yoQZ_-jxb2yBWn8PavulBjf38/s320/Red+Elvises+01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Anyway, as for the band itself, I grooved almost immediately to these guys (they have a girl, too, as you can see), two of whom originally hail from Russia. Their leader, Igor Yuzov (center, holding up his guitar in the photo), kept referring to his group (half-jokingly/half-seriously) as “Everyone’s favorite band” or “Your favorite band”, and this Igor is WAY funnier than Yakov Smirnoff, too—and to his credit, not once did I ever hear him utter the phrase, “Vut a country!” I guess I’ve been sleeping at the wheel again, because I’d never even heard of this band until Saturday night, although they’ve been around since the mid-‘90s and have quite the cult following, it appears. Most of their stuff sounds a lot like Reverend Horton Heat-style turbo-charged Rockabilly, but they also throw in a few curveballs like reggae, ska and even a polka. At one point, they even had the crowd doing a Conga line. And check out that dude’s bass guitar—even the late John Entwistle didn’t have a bass in his massive collection with its own kickstand! Somehow, I don’t think this is what Paul McCartney had in mind when he wrote the line “Let me hear your balalaikas ringing out…” but you most definitely could hear this one. Check out them suits, too—test patterns on acid! The Red Elvi repertoire was also quite humorous at times, including one particularly silly tune called “Harriet” that caught my ear, in which Igor sang lovingly about his "girl", referring to her as "my honey pie/my chocolate cake/my well-done steak”. Sounds like something I’d come up with for a term of endearment! Other RE ditties like “Closet Disco Dancer”, “I Wanna See You Bellydance”, "Drinking With Jesus" and “Sex In Paradise” were crowd pleasers, and I was almost sorry to see the Red Elvises “leave the building”, so to speak, because they were a real hoot. I plan to invest in some Red Elvi CDs immediately, and I also heard Igor say they’d be back in K.C. in November. Would love to actually SEE them as well as hear them next time, you Knuckleheads! Why, I oughtta…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>SET LIST:</strong> <em>Snakedance/The Other Side Of The World/Downstream/Given Time/Long Gone Long/Reckoning Day/My Own Bed/The One That Got Away/The Wages Of Sin/Missouri Girl/Information/Half A Horse Apiece/Shiny Shiny/Small Circles/Kansas City Times/Lakeview Man/Like Dogs/One More Summer/Nobody Knows/Rockin’ At The T-Dance/Government Cheese/Spend It On Love/Width Of A Line/Drinkin’ On The Job [w/Fortunate Son and Rainy Day Women #12 & 35]/Hoo-De-Hoo/Last Song Of The Evening/I Talk With My Hands</em> <strong>ENCORES:</strong> <em>Johnny Reb/Turpentine/Let My People Go-Go/Go Down Swingin’/Big Fat Blonde</em></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-22255355042579134982012-05-22T20:02:00.003-06:002012-05-22T21:50:04.237-06:00The Mighty Carson Blog Tribute<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_rjukIu483CyFTK7qDFzmlkJzx1lYVE2zUShJQFLgo7L9vT0TChcKJYSrv8O_QaFFUGFEQ2PYH13ZFM8Fdr6qnf4zvwSXh5PnmHE64LXJIF12ZF0eGyndqHrymqfUStfPLtCTUAB3ojQ/s1600/Johnny+Carson+02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_rjukIu483CyFTK7qDFzmlkJzx1lYVE2zUShJQFLgo7L9vT0TChcKJYSrv8O_QaFFUGFEQ2PYH13ZFM8Fdr6qnf4zvwSXh5PnmHE64LXJIF12ZF0eGyndqHrymqfUStfPLtCTUAB3ojQ/s320/Johnny+Carson+02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hard to believe it was 20 years ago tonight, May 22, 1992, that Johnny Carson signed off from the “Tonight Show” for the final time, just five months shy of a full 30 years of ruling Late-Nite television. Numerous competitors/imitators have come and gone since then, some successful (David Letterman, Jay Leno, Arsenio Hall, Conan O’Brien, Jimmy Kimmel) and others not-so-much (Chevy Chase, Magic Johnson, Dennis Miller, Joan Rivers, Alan Thicke), but none of them can match the majesty that Johnny (along with co-horts Ed McMahon and Doc Severinsen) gave us for three decades.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvL19h27TCl8HiP2XbA8AIf8zy7LXOG3r42vTWWivTnp72Q_-EBqTET83Qu6HkRLy4_WIOlTPS46I1j370n9-dLTOv0sfq4DtmZASJbW4_dDotr3w1980qL0UMDW4lNcC0eVT-TTvK7c/s1600/256px-Tonightshowtitlecard1980s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRvL19h27TCl8HiP2XbA8AIf8zy7LXOG3r42vTWWivTnp72Q_-EBqTET83Qu6HkRLy4_WIOlTPS46I1j370n9-dLTOv0sfq4DtmZASJbW4_dDotr3w1980qL0UMDW4lNcC0eVT-TTvK7c/s1600/256px-Tonightshowtitlecard1980s.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I first got into the “Tonight Show” when I was about 10 or so, when I was first able to stay up just late enough to catch Johnny’s nightly monologues. This would’ve been the summer of ’74 when I didn’t have a strict bedtime on non-school nights, and it was the height of the Watergate crisis, which provided Carson and comedians nationwide a seemingly endless supply of funny material. Johnny appealed to me not only because he was funny and personable, but because watching his show made me feel a bit more grown-up—this was my first venture into a more sophisticated adult world of entertainment (non-porn, that is). Johnny was such a gentleman and made doing his show seem so effortless and there were times when I thought he had the coolest job in the world, thus I couldn’t quite understand his numerous contract disputes and conflicts with NBC and such over the years, or why he insisted on shortening the show from 90 to 60 minutes and only worked three days a week toward the end. Of course, I didn’t realize then that doing a nightly show like could become a real grind over time. Undoubtedly, the 60-90 minutes Johnny spent on camera was the fun part, but all the work that went along with it probably sucked. Like the late Bon Scott of AC/DC once sang, “I tell ya, folks—it’s harder than it looks…”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I could spend the better part of an eternity highlighting my favorite “Tonight Show” moments, but here’s a sampling:</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wkb52vw46uPdt-2NQg2XDoyeU-7aQPC1sLMc9Z1AcJqCn3VunF9Z2SmdYnuan84zBpIj40PEH2EwVfWeWhXKx4Md0ueRWNClQ8EHAK3MeT01KzBrzSgBjjxC43IPpwu5RPzhN7mgi-I/s1600/Rula+Lenska+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4wkb52vw46uPdt-2NQg2XDoyeU-7aQPC1sLMc9Z1AcJqCn3VunF9Z2SmdYnuan84zBpIj40PEH2EwVfWeWhXKx4Md0ueRWNClQ8EHAK3MeT01KzBrzSgBjjxC43IPpwu5RPzhN7mgi-I/s320/Rula+Lenska+01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--Anyone remember those ‘70s commercials featuring British actress Rula Lenska hawking RCA TVs? "My hair is a brilliant red, my eyes a dazzling green and if you're not seeing that, you're not watching on an RCA television". Pretty redhead, this Rula was (although she sounded like a drag queen when she spoke), and these ads, along with her <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-SJoIpTPk8">Alberto VO5 shampoo spots</a>, puffed this woman up to be some big-time Liz Taylor-esque celebrity that everyone was supposed to automatically know and recognize, thus I’ll never forget the night Johnny Carson incredulously uttered, “<em>Who the hell</em> is Rula Lenska?!?” I forget the context of the discussion, and it wasn’t mean-spirited or anything, but he totally echoed my thoughts at the time and that one always stuck with me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--Like any superstar athlete, Johnny had his off-nights now and then, and I remember one particular night when Johnny was just bombing right and left during his monologue. Every joke he told was met with lukewarm semi-laughter at best from the audience, to the point where Johnny finally just gave up and laid down on the studio floor and “died” while Doc Severinsen played taps on his trumpet. I loved that totally spontaneous stuff Johnny and the gang would do at times—this is what made that show appear be so much fun to do.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">--I’m not sure if <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fyxjEuFfxV0">this one</a> was spontaneous or staged, but it was pretty funny anyway. Comedian Don Rickles guested on the show while Johnny was on vacation one week in 1976, and upon his return, Carson noticed that the little wooden cigarette box he kept on his desk was damaged, and Doc Severinsen fingered “Mr. Warmth” as the guilty party who broke it. So, Johnny had a cameraman follow him across the hall into the next studio where Rickles was taping “CPO Sharkey” at the time and interrupted the proceedings to take him to task for mangling his cigarette box. Rickles almost seemed a bit rattled by it all too. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlmbRw5xUwUbU06dixQ2NT584X-sf3POt7Uhp-77wryW0kw53xczb03f0f1pWHiwubaHQVyetZKZY3AzOHLyHEzsRbLBqf_awHJAcq0olVaKSDv2TTjQ9CTs60DdaHJHKQWvZ1KQtAd4/s1600/Johnny+and+Dolly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwlmbRw5xUwUbU06dixQ2NT584X-sf3POt7Uhp-77wryW0kw53xczb03f0f1pWHiwubaHQVyetZKZY3AzOHLyHEzsRbLBqf_awHJAcq0olVaKSDv2TTjQ9CTs60DdaHJHKQWvZ1KQtAd4/s1600/Johnny+and+Dolly.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--Johnny again echoed my thoughts (and those of millions of American heterosexual men, for that matter) during singer <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sw2W8ZC7pkM">Dolly Parton’s first “Tonight Show” appearance</a> regarding her breasts when he said, “I would give about a year’s pay to peek under there…” Only Johnny could get away with saying something sexist like that without incurring the wrath of feminists and conservative media hacks and such. If Leno or Letterman made that kind of comment today, they’d be put in front of the firing squad.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">--I always looked forward to actor Robert Blake’s appearances on the show. Before he became a murderer (yes, I think he whacked that gold-digging Bonny Lee Bakely woman) during his “Baretta” days, he always seemed to have funny stories to tell, and he showed no outward signs of what an asshole he truly was/is off-screen. In spite of all that, I wish they would put the rest of “Baretta” out on DVD beyond just Season 1—it was a damn good show.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVd0cf8PjvC1QVTmrts1CvgMs9Lvdn5UhKtib4zAOQxERU7p0HTohynAyqP7SU2xlwQzdyU0PfQFoZOypykOU8wXAufnUpgE89nfxTP2DtMYfMCrxvtX4GkOaS-dp9MqJsFDYDhC4rwE/s1600/Johnny+Carson+01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVd0cf8PjvC1QVTmrts1CvgMs9Lvdn5UhKtib4zAOQxERU7p0HTohynAyqP7SU2xlwQzdyU0PfQFoZOypykOU8wXAufnUpgE89nfxTP2DtMYfMCrxvtX4GkOaS-dp9MqJsFDYDhC4rwE/s320/Johnny+Carson+01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--You had to love the animal segments with Joan Embery from the San Diego Zoo and Jim Fowler from TV’s “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom”. Carson was often keen to point out that Fowler was the one who did all the heavy lifting on that show while host Marlin Perkins got all the glory, and would constantly mock Perkins: “While Jim is down under the ship being swallowed whole by the Great White shark, I’ll be on deck mixing martinis for myself and the crew…” (Or something like that.) He always seemed so scared shitless of the bigger animals too, which made things all that much funnier. And who could forget the night when the little critter called a Marmoset ascended to the top of Mount Carson and proceeded to take a whiz on Johnny’s head? Classic stuff…</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">--The week after the Kansas City Royals won the World Series in 1985, pitcher Bret Saberhagen represented the team on the "Tonight Show". Johnny introduced him as "Bert" Saberhagen. Oops! However, David Letterman had no trouble pronouncing Buddy Biancalana when he appeared on "Late Nite" the same week.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">--Almost every time I see Ed McMahon, I think of George Carlin's bit: "Just once, don't you wish somebody on the Johnny Carson panel would go, 'Whew! Goddamn, Ed, MOVE DOWN, will ya!'" Johnny often gave Ed grief about his drinking prowess, although he wasn't near as bad as say, Dean Martin or Nick Nolte. One night, however, Ed was </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwcfDa0gEPQ"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">feeling no pai</span></a><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">n...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuDVqTCFKSM72Pxr6evIW4S37RYxbOaDJp8fTDm3hSmgdPKU2sZEyWV7xfnUmOGnJskBvnsindeyV1EjHpn6Z_35P8RTdEwDZJQoSuyib-Mm_-bUoX-dOh97v21KFRlKOOPUveiszI00/s1600/Carnac01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" qba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzuDVqTCFKSM72Pxr6evIW4S37RYxbOaDJp8fTDm3hSmgdPKU2sZEyWV7xfnUmOGnJskBvnsindeyV1EjHpn6Z_35P8RTdEwDZJQoSuyib-Mm_-bUoX-dOh97v21KFRlKOOPUveiszI00/s320/Carnac01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">--And then there was my all-time favorite Carson recurring bit, Carnac The Magnificent. About once a month, the legendary all-knowing seer/sage/soothsayer would grace the “Tonight Show” set in his ever-present turban and divine the answers to the questions from the envelopes that Ed McMahon handed him (that had been sitting in a hermetically-sealed mayonnaise jar on Funk & Wagnall’s porch since Noonn that day). For example, Carnac would say the answer “Joe Namath, Big Ben, and a politician’s campaign promises”. He would then open the envelope and read the question: “Name a jock, a clock and a crock.” Or another: “Bjorn Borg”…“Describe the sound made by Orson Welles sitting on his hat.” If the audience reacted negatively, Carnac would respond with, “May the Minnesota Vikings’ front four give your sister an illegal chuck!” or “May a carsick mongoose change the color of your seats!” Or hell, check him out <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lRTtLvKAKgk">in action</a> for yourself. Here is a fairly <a href="http://www.nightscribe.com/Politics/carnacquotes.htm">comprehensive list</a> of Carnac classics. And here’s <a href="http://www.joke-archives.com/oddsends/carnac.html">another</a>. Carson had other recurring characters and bits like Art Fern with his “Tea-Time Movies” (often aided and abetted by late buxom actress Carol Wayne), anal-retentive conservative reactionary Floyd R. Turbo (Bill O’Reilly with earflaps), Stump The Band and crabby Aunt Blabby, but Carnac was far and away the funniest of them all.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In later years on the nights when Johnny was on vacation, viewers were treated to “Tonight Show” reruns (re-titled “The Best Of Carson”), but during the heyday, guest hosts would sub for Carson, and this was a bit of a crapshoot sometimes. Some guest hosts were very entertaining, like Bill Cosby, Bob Newhart, Richard Dawson, David Brenner, Tony Orlando, Orson Welles, George Carlin and McLean Stevenson. Even Kermit The Frog and the Muppets held court on the show one night, and it was hilarious. On the other hand, some guest hosts were grating like Joan Rivers and hack entertainer John Davidson (usually butchering Olivia Newton-John songs in the process).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I mentioned the Carson imitators earlier, and the most egregious of the bunch had to be Alan Thicke’s “Thicke Of The Night” in 1983-84. And it was bad. (How bad was it?) Well, it was SO bad…all throughout the summer of ’83, TV viewers were harangued by an onslaught of TV ads promoting Thicke’s new show, proclaiming Big Al to be the cat’s ass and practically trash-talking that he was going to slay the dragon that was Johnny Carson. Long about that same time, the United States Football League tried to take on the NFL, too—how’d that work out, hmmm? (I’ll give you $3 to tell me!) In his brilliant 2004 bad TV anthology book entitled <em>What Were They Thinking?,</em> TV/film scribe David Hofstede had some accurate observations about Thicke’s show: “A couple things can happen when a performer is relentlessly shoved into the public consciousness, and it’s amazing those doing the shoving haven’t figured this out yet. Some [viewers] will be so turned off by the disturbance that they’ll make a point to NOT watch out of spite. Others will be curious enough to tune in with great expectations and little patience. Woe to the host who demands your attention, and then wastes your time.” Count me in the former group there—I wasn’t about to defect from Johnny’s camp in the first place, but I had no desire to watch Thicke’s crapfest based on the incessant way they hyped the hell out of it. By extension, I refuse to eat at Sonic Drive-Ins for similar reasons—I am so sick of being force-fed those two dorks in the mini-van (the vaunted T.J. and Pete) in their lame-ass TV ads. Predictably, “Thicke Of The Night” was an abysmal failure, and one of the big reasons for that, in my opinion, was Thicke himself—what a freakin’ dullard! Hofstede sums up the Thicke fiasco quite succinctly: “There were many other challengers to the ratings supremacy of ‘The Tonight Show’, but none entered the game with more arrogance and less ammunition.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don’t know of many people who hated Johnny Carson (Alan Thicke, maybe?), because he seemed to be so universally loved. Hell, even my old man liked Johnny, and that’s saying something—Dad’s approval curve for entertainers was sky-high. From what I’ve read and heard, though, Johnny was a bit of a contradiction because his personal life wasn’t nearly as rosy as his public persona indicated. In front of the camera, he was totally at home and at ease gabbing with all manner of entertainers, politicians/statesmen, musicians, sports figures and just plain folks, but off-screen, he was actually shy and rather inept socially. His numerous marriages weren’t all peaches and beans either, especially with the infamous Joanna Carson, who was the source of quite a bit of monologue material in the ‘70s and ‘80s, and toward the end of his run on the show in 1991, Johnny’s son Rick was killed in a car accident, so there was a fair amount of angst for Johnny off-camera. Carson also had health issues late in life, thanks mostly to his smoking habit, and he died of emphysema in 2005. Even though I knew all about that, when I heard the news of his death, I was still shocked by it, nonetheless. My immediate reaction was, “Johnny Carson can’t die! This just can’t happen.” He was such an institution and part of the inner fabric of our lives and culture, it just seemed like he should live forever. But, alas, he was indeed human just like the rest of us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We didn’t hear much from Johnny in the years following his retirement, but that’s the way he wanted it. Can’t say I blame him, really—he’d “done his time” for America, so to speak, and he earned the right to ride off into the sunset and do whatever he wanted. I read recently that Carson had long foreseen the spectre that is “reality” television and like me, he was not a fan of it. I certainly remember how he ripped “Survivor” (and other shows of its ilk) a good one in a rare interview with <em>Esquire</em> magazine in 2002. I almost wanted to kiss Johnny on the lips (well, not really) when he said, "These people are in just about as much jeopardy as I am having dinner. People forget that there's a crew there. There's a catering service…It's not like they are going to die out there in the jungle. These silly people will do anything the director suggests because they want to be on television!" Preach, brother, preach!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have to admit by the late ‘80s and early ‘90s that I had moved on a bit and hadn’t watched the “Tonight Show” as much in the years leading up to Johnny’s retirement. Still, I was really hoping he would wait until October ’92 to step down, that way he could’ve made it an even 30 years of hosting the show, but it all came to an end on May 22, 1992. Here in K.C., we viewers were forced to wait and wait and wait to see the finale thanks to our Kansas City Royals. You would think, given the special occasion and all, that Channel 4 (our NBC affiliate at the time) would’ve tried to avoid a conflict, and not aired a Royals game that night, right? YOU ARE WRONG, pitching change breath! The 7:30 Royals game from Texas seemed to take forever to finish, thus </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">we had to wait for the game to end, then sit through all 30 minutes of the 10:00 news before Johnny’s last show finally aired a good 45 minutes late. I was not pleased. And on top of that, the Royals lost!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There is allegedly a cave somewhere in western Kansas that houses the entire video archive of every Johnny Carson show that still exists on videotape from the ‘70s onward (sadly, most everything from the ‘60s was erased). Several “best-of” video collections are available for public consumption now, of course, but one would hope that someday more and more of the archives will see the light of day again as well. Hell, I say why not run “Tonight Show” reruns (even the ones Johnny Carson didn’t appear on) Monday thru Friday nights at 11:30/10:30 central on TV Land or some other cable outlet? I’d be willing to bet they’d draw more viewers than some of the current late-night yack-fests (or at least give them a run for their money), and what a great way to time-travel it would be, too. I think Johnny Carson should be required viewing for school kids too, just to prove to them that high-quality television entertainment did once exist. I miss Johnny dearly, and today’s talk shows are just no substitute. </span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-42704219631085025622012-05-16T17:27:00.007-06:002012-05-16T17:43:05.956-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Worldwide Texas Tour, Episode 7<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Time to put a wrap on this road trip--there's another one coming up in just over three weeks...</span></em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTab2aMQF9xn7mp6vmxmRMx0F6KNzqb3aGoloIHHc1kBThHvQSCqp68VMb8GyWyEl65BbRnxQ5WhxtEmHX3IE3RROx8uqBKulICwZ97ByLa5Khy080f1ZF6cCuFAgAavrdcHS3df3Fnc/s1600/DSCN0910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTab2aMQF9xn7mp6vmxmRMx0F6KNzqb3aGoloIHHc1kBThHvQSCqp68VMb8GyWyEl65BbRnxQ5WhxtEmHX3IE3RROx8uqBKulICwZ97ByLa5Khy080f1ZF6cCuFAgAavrdcHS3df3Fnc/s320/DSCN0910.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"FOR GOODNESS SAKE...WELL, DO THE HIPPY-HIPPY SHAKE"</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When I snapped this photo I was standing in the Texas Rangers dugout on the very spot where manager Ron Washington does his little booty-shake routine during games (<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrKXkcjMbpM">see video</a>) when his Rangers are excelling on the field. I'd seen a game at Rangers ballpark about ten years before, but decided to do the stadium tour, just for fun. Didn't get to see as much of the place as I would've liked, but I enjoyed standing at Washington's perch for a spell. Was hoping to see the Nolan Ryan statue out in centerfield, but some renovations were being done and we couldn't access that area.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyszi5_EQ_Zy6ZAiuXE1bIyLDUpNxo-uonuBjehcy0QcD7O0hT6L1AeunFvOnLJOtSfilRE1QYsPtGpE1E6UEWw-gnGfpZYAG5u6H3z4QwLOvzCfbJey7rc55lEkzchQEAwyfp-V1scc/s1600/DSCN0918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzyszi5_EQ_Zy6ZAiuXE1bIyLDUpNxo-uonuBjehcy0QcD7O0hT6L1AeunFvOnLJOtSfilRE1QYsPtGpE1E6UEWw-gnGfpZYAG5u6H3z4QwLOvzCfbJey7rc55lEkzchQEAwyfp-V1scc/s320/DSCN0918.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">DEATH, I HEAR YOU CALLIN'...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I couldn't help but chuckle when I passed by this establishment near my hotel in Big D, where you can pick out your very own wooden overcoat. As Fred Sanford once said, "That's a tough item to sell--sorta like selling Christmas trees the day after Christmas." </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Two doors down to the left of it is a store called Boxes To Go. Not sure if they're affiliated with each other, but I guess they have us covered either way. Too bad there wasn't a Kum & Go convenience store on the same block too...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHhsyWPHobPrdr9judXrxeHbd8QHCOdqgB2jiRr9KJqKLwNy-Md5vzxAl-RRqH7tKZdg4HNXJDHMPTsMT6O-YFm7S_KCK55a1hQg8vzbyqHN6eZN9U6RuXp-diPa3Vih0YV7DhrKVQeg/s1600/DSCN0922.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDHhsyWPHobPrdr9judXrxeHbd8QHCOdqgB2jiRr9KJqKLwNy-Md5vzxAl-RRqH7tKZdg4HNXJDHMPTsMT6O-YFm7S_KCK55a1hQg8vzbyqHN6eZN9U6RuXp-diPa3Vih0YV7DhrKVQeg/s320/DSCN0922.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>OKEY-DOAK</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Outside of Southern Methodist University's Gerald Ford Stadium (named after an SMU benefactor, not the ex-Prez) stands this statue of football legend Doak Walker. The Doakster starred in the late '40s at SMU and for the Detroit Lions in the '50s and even has an award named after him given annually to the best college running back. I've never heard of anyone named Doak outside of the realm of football, tho...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUjRL-6PxghJNc94Aj31ckcv0LLjDJPhf8j0cNzzvguyrBqB-UsfT-YLCbEj6uulAS-g9WR8Tr9wtYOzfVrzSGo-qe6lL37zSslrYFs322n68KMgLJIVPXSDq3LwuKUchlJvmXrjXbzg/s1600/DSCN0924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIUjRL-6PxghJNc94Aj31ckcv0LLjDJPhf8j0cNzzvguyrBqB-UsfT-YLCbEj6uulAS-g9WR8Tr9wtYOzfVrzSGo-qe6lL37zSslrYFs322n68KMgLJIVPXSDq3LwuKUchlJvmXrjXbzg/s320/DSCN0924.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">CAMELOT'S END...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...took place right here in 1963. This is the Emergency Room entrance to Parkland Hospital in Dallas (well, the current Parkland ER, anyway) where President Kennedy was officially declared dead at 1:00 CST on 11-22-63, although he was dead for all intents and purposes the second that shot ripped through his skull. I'm not sure if this is the exact same part of the hospital campus where JFK was taken or not, but it sure looks similar to the one I see in the old newsreels from the day. It was rather interesting driving the exact same route the motorcade followed after Oswald's shots were fired. According to then-Governor John Connally's wife, Nellie, there was a eerie silence in the limo during that five-minute ride from downtown to Parkland.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBxyB_Vm7_-XsmScGEt_ti7am1pRniTzk8P8l9T6UKlxvZ-vMNGBaFahINeqD-mZs6RKC79YTMoLUXWgvULlKGMk_fplUREy9YhjbsUMJzDHiL6R1y0XYJ2O4n7QGrsYNgvmoc9_FYsc/s1600/DSCN0927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibBxyB_Vm7_-XsmScGEt_ti7am1pRniTzk8P8l9T6UKlxvZ-vMNGBaFahINeqD-mZs6RKC79YTMoLUXWgvULlKGMk_fplUREy9YhjbsUMJzDHiL6R1y0XYJ2O4n7QGrsYNgvmoc9_FYsc/s320/DSCN0927.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">LOVELY TO SEE YOU AGAIN, MY FRIEND...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">The Stadium Stalker claimed one last victim during the 2012 Worldwide Texas Tour, FC Dallas Stadium in the town of Frisco, way the hell up north of the Metroplex (seemingly closer to Oklahoma than Dallas-Ft. Worth). I wasn't expecting to encounter anyone I knew there when I saw Lamar Hunt's statue standing guard at the north end of the stadium. We Kansas Citians tend to claim Mr. Hunt as one of our own, thus I'd forgotten that in addition to bringing the Chiefs (and later the Wizards) to KC, that the man also spearheaded the formation of the old North American Soccer League and Dallas Tornado franchise in the '70s. I actually almost like this statue of him better than the one outside Arrowhead Stadium, too. Nice little soccer facility they have in Frisco, which opened in 2005, but I can't believe it doesn't have a roof over its stands like the Wizards new joint does. If there was ever a place were sports venues desperately need shade, it's Texas, and this one was known tongue-in-cheek-ly as "The Oven" when it was called Pizza Hut Park. Then again, they were shrewd enough to include a permanent stage with a roof (right behind Lamar) for concerts and other shows when there's no soccer.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicYfvaJTw31RIFzbT0zolBE_Ua6Z-gzTOB3PJ_j1vvp_aUWbMdtxsU_aBDDyYjR6tnU8FYP3KqkXraynjCWhVnsGDPYUjdX3_8mrQP72oN22XvVTrpaBYG__X7i7JVMEloZE7YSrdzKY/s1600/DSCN0933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgicYfvaJTw31RIFzbT0zolBE_Ua6Z-gzTOB3PJ_j1vvp_aUWbMdtxsU_aBDDyYjR6tnU8FYP3KqkXraynjCWhVnsGDPYUjdX3_8mrQP72oN22XvVTrpaBYG__X7i7JVMEloZE7YSrdzKY/s320/DSCN0933.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"YOU KNOW THE NIGHT IS FALLING, AND THE MUSIC IS CALLING..."</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...and we got to get down to--Stringtown?!? Stringtown, OK is the home of Country music legend Reba McEntire, as well as former Royals shortstop/toothpick connoisseur U.L. Washington. When my good friend Tom and I passed through Stringtown in 1984, a city limit sign alerted motorists to that very fact. Now, it's no big shock that U.L. doesn't rate a city limit mention anymore since his career wasn't terribly memorable, but I was rather shocked that Reba ain't gettin' no love either these days. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"></span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-20545618854426649102012-05-15T22:07:00.004-06:002012-05-17T21:20:26.212-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Worldwide Texas Tour, Episode 6<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">JERRY WORLD EDITION</span></strong><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I kinda got off-track here and forgot to finish of my chronicle of my Texas adventure, but I figure I better get it done soon because I'm heading out of town again here in about three weeks...</span></em><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyvFHW70qndzG0WTTDLrCja7-ftBqdo0sRq5z3JM6TWKrxTZ-yfBUF-HGc8G4r-UijDkPBByRZRszVct2sWKtRtRQJw6L0WYJ8pQxXuJp8gtfPH2uWtE3nOUgZiCkZMaNdEliQnl5wUg/s1600/DSCN0824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyvFHW70qndzG0WTTDLrCja7-ftBqdo0sRq5z3JM6TWKrxTZ-yfBUF-HGc8G4r-UijDkPBByRZRszVct2sWKtRtRQJw6L0WYJ8pQxXuJp8gtfPH2uWtE3nOUgZiCkZMaNdEliQnl5wUg/s320/DSCN0824.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">WELCOME TO JERRY WORLD, BOYS AND GIRLS!</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">When I last left off, we were in Arlington, TX, which was once just a bump in the Turnpike between Fort Worth and Dallas until 40 years ago when the Washington Senators relocated to the Metroplex and became the Texas Rangers. Now it's a bustling suburb that houses the Rangers Ballpark and Jerry Jones' multi-zillion dollar Cowboys Stadium, which is far and away the biggest damn sports venue of any kind I've ever seen in person. Photos don't do the place justice--you really have to see it in person to grasp the enormity of it. As I was driving in from Fort Worth, I caught my first glimpse of this behemoth from over SEVEN miles away! In the words of Eddie Murphy: "The shit is big!"</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-K8GrIKAiPQnQqUoiry2o-LNOz9zDcOJmeRaj7JlNyQVHSEGw58Ae5fQjSO1-IYnZaWVspFC7ihwJrlNUzEPLoby_jifABLeArng3PZY45lHTGQWanNzkVC-t9wHHwM5Sf4iXp6rKC0/s1600/DSCN0848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-K8GrIKAiPQnQqUoiry2o-LNOz9zDcOJmeRaj7JlNyQVHSEGw58Ae5fQjSO1-IYnZaWVspFC7ihwJrlNUzEPLoby_jifABLeArng3PZY45lHTGQWanNzkVC-t9wHHwM5Sf4iXp6rKC0/s320/DSCN0848.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>HOW'S IT HANGIN'?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I had two choices for touring Cowboys Stadium, the guided "VIP Tour" or the cheaper self-guided tour and I chose the latter, quite wisely. I enjoyed roaming the field and the locker room areas far more than I would have if I had to stick with the crowd just to see the press box, hoity-toity luxury suites and such. The only real disappointment was not being able to see the massive video screen in action, but as you can see, the big black elephant in the middle of the room was down for maintenance, but it would normally be in operation during daily tours. The damn thing is like ten times bigger than my house! It's literally a six-story building in and of itself.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrWMes-viVrJFQ8freMOZiCdyhxFm15wZJ6SfwtG9Rj_2AAWtwAD8FYJJPULeQCpGghZUGTnPiz917GwLSFRTqSE0kTLRdrWax4W7kEj396UZZWc-P7b5Kl-9si0o33lPl69jFqkMVvo/s1600/DSCN0857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrWMes-viVrJFQ8freMOZiCdyhxFm15wZJ6SfwtG9Rj_2AAWtwAD8FYJJPULeQCpGghZUGTnPiz917GwLSFRTqSE0kTLRdrWax4W7kEj396UZZWc-P7b5Kl-9si0o33lPl69jFqkMVvo/s320/DSCN0857.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>IN THE SUITE BUY AND BUY...</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">These are the field level suites that you can mortgage your home to obtain tickets for. They look pretty worthless to me for watching the actual game--they're too low to the ground and all the people on the sidelines would block your view. The floors in them (as well as the rest of the stadium, for that matter) looked clean enough to eat off of, and I actually saw several illegal aliens--er uh--Mexican cleaning ladies dusting and wiping the chairs in one of the suites, even though there were no events in the stadium that week.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMvP4QjsG-dRTeZaYh-oXkBcyZTCj1qbwxJGzom1o8pmGi67CNSOf8tuPekrn6s4ern0Kw6rXKcSdTiomSMZeEw0CVbQdvXhCcKDMxuvTK7E0f8bKLUFb7w609edBAXmGjYDDbprEuDM/s1600/DSCN0864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAMvP4QjsG-dRTeZaYh-oXkBcyZTCj1qbwxJGzom1o8pmGi67CNSOf8tuPekrn6s4ern0Kw6rXKcSdTiomSMZeEw0CVbQdvXhCcKDMxuvTK7E0f8bKLUFb7w609edBAXmGjYDDbprEuDM/s320/DSCN0864.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"99 YARDS AND A HALF!"...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...as Dandy Don Meredith once exclaimed on that "Monday Night Fooball" telecast in 1982 when Tony Dorsett ran all the way across the Metrodome in Minneapolis to set the NFL record for longest run from scrimmage. This gives you an idea of how far TD had to run--I'm standing at the goal line while snapping this pic. Kinda cool to now be able to say I've strolled on the same field that a Super Bowl has been played on. I'm generally a football purist and would prefer to see everyone play on real grass, but I have to admit that the fake FieldTurf is the next best thing. It looks and feels like real grass, and doesn't look near as painful to get tackled on as AstroTurf did. And if the players are okey-dokey with it, then I am too.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn94LfoCotaSePVZUZl9Wi_noA4161cu9jVrxmaMKGQP91RqfeCJwwZPt5_DAFsWTZ2DgObYdEGvnYhPIutJ6n5Zzpt_j2dpS3GFVQ9PXC7lpcB-HIS1CFLOxpRaLO-SeFCgGBu_pQ4WI/s1600/DSCN0883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn94LfoCotaSePVZUZl9Wi_noA4161cu9jVrxmaMKGQP91RqfeCJwwZPt5_DAFsWTZ2DgObYdEGvnYhPIutJ6n5Zzpt_j2dpS3GFVQ9PXC7lpcB-HIS1CFLOxpRaLO-SeFCgGBu_pQ4WI/s320/DSCN0883.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">"TURN OUT THE LIGHTS...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...the Party's Over" And you're blinding Coach Landry too! More Dandy Don here, as he interviews the man in the fedora in a cool photo that hangs in the Cowboys press room where post-game interviews and news conferences are held. The self-guided tour allows you access to not only this room, but the Cowboys locker room and even the Cheerleaders locker room (minus the cheerleaders, natch). The tour staff was also quite friendly and fun to chat with along the way.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RsY31Mnfm1QWfE0l6AjKHv30YbihWRmjZb7cHgqamrENM_3Tn0CR6MlK9njwTbRy6dHoxTPbdRczdogNZ5pNgEIQBnRiXt7PW2IFMpABWWlW-sLIIVb-BO7XWiEYSmNEZV_CeK7wU2g/s1600/DSCN0872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6RsY31Mnfm1QWfE0l6AjKHv30YbihWRmjZb7cHgqamrENM_3Tn0CR6MlK9njwTbRy6dHoxTPbdRczdogNZ5pNgEIQBnRiXt7PW2IFMpABWWlW-sLIIVb-BO7XWiEYSmNEZV_CeK7wU2g/s320/DSCN0872.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>HOW'S THE WEATHER UP THERE?</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">To give you an idea of how tall this effing stadium is, there are points on the field near the corners and sidelines where you literally cannot see the seats in the upper deck! You also now see why the big video screen is so necessary--it's the only way to see the damn game clearly from upstairs! I've walked to the top row of Toronto's SkyDome, which was the previous tallest stadium I've ever been in, and the Cowboys' joint dwarfs it easily. I can only imagine the vertigo in the upper reaches here--perhaps this one should be called "Mile High Stadium" instead of Denver's place...</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX8wvv2d6vR38hNSCRBH0pLXAVvUK4iixTBeGbRrSKciYSkQTJAR6QpAs4iOVnkHGlgOdhyphenhyphenSZXORp6qEezc-mx9-M-iIRE2Z8P07b7IVxxGqAUvjxVfXca-pSg81t7Uw43Kpiig8l9b8/s1600/DSCN0900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVX8wvv2d6vR38hNSCRBH0pLXAVvUK4iixTBeGbRrSKciYSkQTJAR6QpAs4iOVnkHGlgOdhyphenhyphenSZXORp6qEezc-mx9-M-iIRE2Z8P07b7IVxxGqAUvjxVfXca-pSg81t7Uw43Kpiig8l9b8/s320/DSCN0900.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>LEAVE IT TO JERRY JONES...</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...to include embossed Port-A-Pottys for his big playplen! Like Sgt. Hartman in <em>Full Metal Jacket</em> said, "Even the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in there and take a dump!" I still think Jerry Jones is a bit of a crap-weasel--he's good buds with Dubya Bush, after all--but If nothing else, the man spared NO expense in building this thing. The dudes in the Cowboys locker room even told me that the wood paneling that frames the players' lockers is the same stuff they use for dashboards in Bentley cars. As Wojo on "Barney Miller" would say, "Well, whoopity-doopity-doo!" Then again, even though I hate the Dallas Cowboys with a passion and always have, even I have to give it up to Jones' largesse--this place in unreal, and totally worth the visit if you're down that way. </span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-18767586400932295872012-04-19T18:29:00.004-06:002012-04-20T09:44:58.047-06:00Dick Clark 1929-2012<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I’ll finish off the Worldwide Texas Tour stuff later, but for now I need to pause to salute the dearly departed…</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We lost a true icon in the music and television world yesterday, one Richard Wagstaff Clark, better known as the “World’s Oldest Teenager”. Hard to imagine what American music and pop culture would be like without this man. He was a radio announcer, music personality/impresario, game show host, entertainer and TV producer, not to mention a shrewd businessman. He was quite successful in pretty much everything he did, and he seemed to do it so effortlessly, even though it’s surely a lot harder than it looks to do.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVCBTvza0y1qMClkbv7FasmsHdZVQzAc4sEAsVY4bT4252-KEYK4Fxnxt2DQqr9zYoXC0Lfv6fLFaxdnlxkTkSzatCZpkL96jpLbLainDMKJnXcnKt9lY4xZYoef00t3ozTbg3UT8i6s/s1600/PRTRClark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" qda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVCBTvza0y1qMClkbv7FasmsHdZVQzAc4sEAsVY4bT4252-KEYK4Fxnxt2DQqr9zYoXC0Lfv6fLFaxdnlxkTkSzatCZpkL96jpLbLainDMKJnXcnKt9lY4xZYoef00t3ozTbg3UT8i6s/s320/PRTRClark.jpg" width="251px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I, personally, will be forever grateful to Dick Clark for giving two of my all-time favorite music acts, Paul Revere & The Raiders and Kiss, their first real national TV exposure and he was crucial to the long-term success of both bands. The Raiders paid tribute to the man in their autobiographical 1966 song <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3EbtkjtYXM">“The Legend Of Paul Revere”</a>: <em><span style="color: #0b5394;">“And then Dick Clark approached them, he said, ‘I know a thing or two…I’ll put you on a TV show and make big stars of you.’”</span></em> And so he did, making PR&TR the virtual house band on “Where The Action Is” for a couple years. I keep hoping someday soon we’ll see an official DVD release of those ancient PR&TR performances from “Action”. Clark (pictured here sitting in on the skins with the late Mike "Smitty" Smith of the Raiders) also influenced Kisstory in big way by giving them their first national appearance on a Rock-related TV show in 1974 on ABC’s "In Concert" (the sadly-forgotten conterpart to NBC’s “Midnight Special”), which you can see <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bF-jjaBMHcw">in its entirety here</a>. [Note: I (and probably the band itself) coulda done without the hippie-looking rainbow arch over the stage here, as well as the unnecessary fireworks footage the producers superimposed on screen at the end of “Black Diamond” but whaddya do?]</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Clark’s legend is generally tied to “American Bandstand”, of course, which became a musical institution on TV in the ‘50s and ‘60s and served as a conduit between teens and parents and showed them that Rock ‘N’ Roll wasn’t the “devil’s music” and all that crap. I didn’t watch AB much until the late ‘70s when the likes of John Travolta, Leif Garrett and Andy Gibb would get up and lip-synch their latest pop pabulum hits. Even then, I watched it more to see the chicks on the dance floor in their tacky Disco clothes than for the performances. I also remember one of the more infamous AB episodes in 1980 when former Sex Pistol Johnny Rotten appeared with Public Image, Ltd. and proceeded to be the narcissistic arsehole that he is. I’ve never confirmed this urban legend, but I read somewhere that Johnny actually hawked a loogie on Dick Clark (or someone) during that show. Classy guy…tell me again, now—why am I’m supposed to impressed with him and why does belongs in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall Of Fame? But I digress…</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyexBDRzCzDozVNqfCi3eqrPL4GxZQpWlPsp9qKGWDM3k8N4xmh2M95z2ZCMZb6he9uVat7vX3kuG5-x-Nvp5ERE93SzZyoR0AXljZTYbhKRcaFFqhlphTAkQ731KXIKuwku2CCIPMuQ/s1600/Clarkpyramid.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216px" qda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDyexBDRzCzDozVNqfCi3eqrPL4GxZQpWlPsp9qKGWDM3k8N4xmh2M95z2ZCMZb6he9uVat7vX3kuG5-x-Nvp5ERE93SzZyoR0AXljZTYbhKRcaFFqhlphTAkQ731KXIKuwku2CCIPMuQ/s320/Clarkpyramid.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I actually watched Dick Clark more on “$10,000/$25,000/$100,000/$Eleventy-million Pyramid” instead of “Bandstand”. When I was a kid, I was a major game show fanatic, and I’d put “Pyramid” in my Top 10 of all-time, right up there with “Concentration”, “Hollywood Squares”, “Match Game”, “The Joker’s Wild”, “Family Feud” and "Jeopardy!". Dick was a way better game show host than most people gave him credit for, and like Peter Marshall, he seemed genuine and glib, not phony and forced like Pat Sajak and his ilk. The show was fun to play along with too, especially during the big money round when I would shout out suggestions at my TV. And who could forget that lovely deep-piled orange shag carpeting, which was standard game show décor in the ‘70s. Meanwhile, let's play along with the subject in this photograph: Mirror balls, skanky women, Coke spoons, the Village People, Andy Warhol…</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">During my brief foray into the radio biz, I loved running Clark’s “Rock, Roll & Remember” show on Sunday afternoons at the “Mighty 1030”, KKJC in Blue Springs. It was a weekly four-hour oldies anthology show that featured artist interviews, trivial tidbits from the past and such, and usually focused on a particular group each week—one week he’d spotlight the Beach Boys and another week The Temptations, and the next week Three Dog Night, etc. We also aired DC’s “Countdown America” on Saturdays, which was Clark’s answer to Casey Kasem’s “American Top 40”, only it centered on the Adult Contemporary charts instead of Top 40. These shows came on vinyl records with the commercials already built-in to them in segments that lasted roughly 20 minutes or so, but you had to be careful to get your album sides lined up correctly so as not to play the program out-of-sequence—I got burned on that at least twice! When the “Mighty 1030” bit the dust in early 1988, I ended up bringing home a boatload of these Dick Clark shows from the station archives, and made a nice chunk of change a couple years later when I sold them to a collector. Wish I’d kept one or two of them now, tho…</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dick Clark’s other TV ventures included the “American Music Awards” which was actually relevant once upon a time, but is virtually unwatchable today, given the freak-show quality of today’s posers—er uh, performers. “TV’s Bloopers & Practical Jokes”, which he co-hosted with the late Ed McMahon, came along in the mid ‘80s and aired off-and-on for years. The bloopers were usually pretty funny, but the practical jokes always seemed contrived and forced, not unlike on "Candid Camera". One of Clark’s more notable TV failures was the short-lived “Dick Clark’s LIVE Wednesday” in 1978. One show featured an all-star band fronted by Chuck Berry (check out the band intro <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePqfsrVOPh4">in this video</a>—what an eclectic mix of musicians!). There’s also a blooper at the 26:31 mark—while Chuck’s wailing away on his guitar, he inadvertently bops trumpeter Doc Severinsen in the face with the headstock of his guitar. The good Doctor is momentarily stunned, but he quickly recovers and plays on. Clark also created a show in the early ‘00s which he co-hosted called “The Other Half” which was ostensibly the male alternative to ABC’s estrogen-laden squawk-fest “The View”. Not a bad idea in theory, but it didn’t fare all that well in practice (let alone in the ratings), especially with a dolt like Danny “Mr. Sensitivity” Bonaduce as one of its co-hosts.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For some reason, whenever I think of Dick Clark, I often return to that <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xcuuoagxwsg">awkward segment</a> in Michael Moore’s <em>Bowling For Columbine</em> documentary where Moore ambushes Clark in a van in a parking lot and tries to interview him about his “American Bandstand” bar/restaurant chain. According to MM’s convoluted logic, it was Dick’s fault that some welfare mother in Michigan was forced to work long hours at an AB location she had to commute a long way to, thus depriving her of having the proper time to devote to raising her young son, who had to stay at his uncle’s house while she worked. Junior finds a gun in said uncle’s house, takes it to school one day and accidentally shoots a fellow first-grader to death, thus implicating Dick Clark in the murder. Riiiiiiight. Moore’s intentions may well have been all good, and I’m all for gun control, but come on, dude…</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">[NOTE: My conservative friends will be pleased to hear that I’ve done a total 180 in regards to Michael Moore—I used to think he was legit and that there was a lot of substance to him, but the more I look at his body of work, the more I realize that he’s just as full of shit on the radical left as Limbaugh, Beck, O’Reilly, Hannity, et al., are on the radical right. Just like the righties, Moore twists facts and presents them in certain ways just to suit his purposes rather than tell the whole truth. To any of my liberal friends who might be disappointed with my renoucement of Moore, what can I say? You’ll just have to carry on without me on this one, because frankly folks, I’m tired of being bullshitted...]</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And of course, no discussion of Dick Clark is complete without “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve”, on which DC more or less supplanted Guy Lombardo as the Major Domo of NYE in the ‘70s. The first time I ever stayed up past Midnight on a New Year’s Eve was around ’73 or ’74 when I was 9 or 10 and “NYRE” became a yearly tradition with me for a long time after that. If my memory serves correctly, that first one I saw featured Olivia Newton-John, who I’d never seen on TV before. I’d only heard her on the radio up to that point and didn’t even know what she looked like, but let’s just say she received an "exceeds expectations" on my personal evaluations of her. Meanwhile, “NYRE” certainly found its niche in pop culture on shows like “Friends”, like when Chandler Bing bemoans another impending NYE without a date and declares, “…I’m sick of being a victim of this Dick Clark holiday!” In a later episode, Monica and Ross actually appear as dancers on “Rockin’ Eve”, and they share the shocking revelation with everyone that the dance floor portions of the show are actually TAPED well in advance of New Year’s Eve! I never quite got why “NYRE” always alternated between the live shots of Clark at the ball-drop in Times Square and the segments that were pre-recorded like in November or something with the faux-revelers dancing to Shalamar, Rick Astley and Sister Sledge and such—pretty hokey to me, but I always watched anyway, mostly because I didn’t have a life. In fact, only once in my 47-plus years have I ever been with a woman on New Year’s Eve. I’m not sure which fact is more depressing, that one or that we’re stuck with crap-weasel Ryan Seacrest on “Rockin’ Eve” from here on out. Anyway, would you care to guess what that woman and I did on that one particular NYE, 1993-94? Well, naturally we watched “Rockin’ Eve”! It was cool, though, because Kiss appeared on the show that year, and we remained snuggled up together on her sofa all night, so I had no complaints…</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For most of his life, Dick Clark was the embodiment of youthfulness and good health, but all that went south in a hurry when he was diagnosed with diabetes, then suffered a debilitating stroke in 2004, thus causing him to miss his first NYE on the air since 1972. He made a valiant recovery and returned to “Rockin’ Eve” in 2005-06 in a limited role, but his speech was noticeably thick, breathy and slurred. He struggled to keep up with the countdowns at times (even saying the numbers out of sequence one time), and one year when he went to kiss his wife at the stroke of Midnight, he inadvertently lost his balance and grabbed her boob! Many people have hailed Clark for being a hero to post-stroke victims by continuing to appear on-air every year, but I have mixed feelings about that. True, it probably was inspirational to lots of folks, but for me, when you’re used to the way someone speaks after listening to them for 30 some-odd years, I found it very sad to watch and listen to Dick struggling to get the words out. I much prefer to remember him the way he was before the stroke.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It seems strangely ironic that two major music moguls, Dick Clark and “Soul Train”’s Don Cornelius (with the same initials, no less), who more or less produced white and black versions of the same TV show, respectively, both left us within less than three months of each other. Someone on Facebook made the comment that Dick Clark is one of the most important <em>non</em>-performers in Rock history. Another put him in the same lofty echelon with Johnny Carson and Ed Sullivan for the impact he made in television. Hard to argue with either of those sentiments. As for me, again I owe a debt of gratitude to the man for giving those early-career early bounces to Paul Revere & The Raiders and Kiss—PR&TR were my first taste of Rock ‘N’ Roll when I was three years old and less than ten years later, Kiss became my favorite band of all-time, and they remain so to this day (in spite of Gene Simmons’ insatiable ego). Rest in peace, Mr. Clark—ya done good! To paraphrase your trademark sign-off, “For now, Dick—so long…” </span></div>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-63253054079081175792012-04-14T20:03:00.003-06:002012-04-14T20:18:36.613-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Worldwide Texas Tour, Episode 5<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtqMbjZ2IiHX9aNitGtuZEflEgyTnk-LF0h1fvplavCuoqwEhkO1xJnianr-z5Rh1aFBx3wAaZM-W99Wxk6EM2YeZFmg_HMoPrMiDT67ICCWE2ij5TtMHbeNsAN2GAMfOd6E8bAp3kfI/s1600/DSCN0837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZtqMbjZ2IiHX9aNitGtuZEflEgyTnk-LF0h1fvplavCuoqwEhkO1xJnianr-z5Rh1aFBx3wAaZM-W99Wxk6EM2YeZFmg_HMoPrMiDT67ICCWE2ij5TtMHbeNsAN2GAMfOd6E8bAp3kfI/s320/DSCN0837.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">CSI: DALLAS</span></strong><br />
Here be the site of the world's original "Nightmare On Elm Street", outside the Texas Book Depository Building in Dallas (or "Suppository" as the dude in <em>Full Metal Jacket </em>called it). I have an airtight alibi--I was in the womb when JKF was assassinated, but I have to say that Lee Harvey Oswald was one helluva shot to be able to nail a moving target from that distance (twice). Hovever, I think he had a little help, as well. Hard to believe next year will be the 50th anniversary too.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu-nk23syAIKNgsCjhRvhImInuGvY4ltTAjGpyc1AqcdcGDkuzr6rye23tCFlIaVWSn6mLnFbLlI9GVlH6c1eJwJGNt3y2yHcLfA0WwUd3H_WriYjKaol47izES8cKduCIzzKfm7wE7A/s1600/DSCN0829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlu-nk23syAIKNgsCjhRvhImInuGvY4ltTAjGpyc1AqcdcGDkuzr6rye23tCFlIaVWSn6mLnFbLlI9GVlH6c1eJwJGNt3y2yHcLfA0WwUd3H_WriYjKaol47izES8cKduCIzzKfm7wE7A/s320/DSCN0829.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"LOOK THROUGH ANY WINDOW...WHAT DO YOU SEE?"</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here's a look at Oswald's perch in the Book Suppository Building. I highly recommend a visit to the 6th Floor Museum thereof. It starts you in the back of the building and you make your way through a labyrinth of photos and exhibits about the Kennedy Administration and the world in general of the early '60s. You eventually are led to corner window where LHO did his dirty work, of course, but the only downside is they're real anal about taking photos inside the museum, for some reason. Very educational, all the same.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NnqG5-tW6yRlfL141h3KblT60tAwwujpQF7daS-BfJs-RXbsjozl_dKs9h8R729McnAZKqIdRTaR-4ul7dZsP75dOWnWrQa7cGseQTZF-Rz_lmzZ6HOBxcnje2uCe3-QK4uC1stQvUA/s1600/DSCN0832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4NnqG5-tW6yRlfL141h3KblT60tAwwujpQF7daS-BfJs-RXbsjozl_dKs9h8R729McnAZKqIdRTaR-4ul7dZsP75dOWnWrQa7cGseQTZF-Rz_lmzZ6HOBxcnje2uCe3-QK4uC1stQvUA/s320/DSCN0832.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">X MARKS THE SPOT...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">...literally, of where John F. Kennedy was shot, in the middle of Elm Street. It's amazing how the Dealey Plaza area has remained pretty much unchanged in almost 50 years, although you may notice that the "grassy knoll" across the road ain't so grassy these days. When I drove away from the area after my museum tour, it felt kinda creepy driving over that X in the road, and I won't deny I was looking over my right shoulder in case someone was taking aim at me and my Grand Marquis!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfhIsb97KPEVD7yeTijUybBpal8liggZL0N9heciPXiZvIEaQeuzTDoe9GMYkntQ3G4-rvPfTJX5BWzvJXAhydk-SW67PhdpUYK1G2I-mA1a2eWePEJsDt6_a_o4Rbwl9ngtwfMLDSFo/s1600/DSCN0830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSfhIsb97KPEVD7yeTijUybBpal8liggZL0N9heciPXiZvIEaQeuzTDoe9GMYkntQ3G4-rvPfTJX5BWzvJXAhydk-SW67PhdpUYK1G2I-mA1a2eWePEJsDt6_a_o4Rbwl9ngtwfMLDSFo/s320/DSCN0830.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">WE DON'T NEED NO STINKING WARREN COMMISSION...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...we got all the answers right here! Never ceases to amaze me how these crackpots are able to con people into buying their leaflets and propaganda in regards to the Kennedy assassination. Just another reminder that P.T. Barnum was right about the 60-second reproduction rate of suckers...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MNHuizgnkmhY75k5C3m95E_XqW5_D5nAN7Bh-7gpGhrws_6YWtDwI9sE7liNL2uSzOUwjEmeWQ_qRsOubBQMEaL53W_0WTUO4arBwAeizCRcd7ZBhIF1CpNsesxgzruPW9JJDhFd7ls/s1600/DSCN0825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6MNHuizgnkmhY75k5C3m95E_XqW5_D5nAN7Bh-7gpGhrws_6YWtDwI9sE7liNL2uSzOUwjEmeWQ_qRsOubBQMEaL53W_0WTUO4arBwAeizCRcd7ZBhIF1CpNsesxgzruPW9JJDhFd7ls/s320/DSCN0825.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">IT'S A BLOODY REUNION...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Fans of J.R. Ewing and the TV show Dallas are no doubt familiar with this sight, Reunion Tower and glass palace Hyatt Regency next door. Once upon a time, the tower housed a radio station whose studios were visible to the public, which would've driven me nuts if I was deejay-ing there with people constantly gawking at me. There was also a time when you could ride up to the observation deck and get some killer views of downtown, the Kennedy sites and about half of Texas, but that is no longer the case. They closed off the deck in 2009 and never re-opened it, and the only way you can go up in the tower now is if you want to waste your hard-earned money on overpriced (and overrated) Wolfgang Puck food at his hoity-toity restaurant. Give me Waffle House any day over that pigeon food...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cMpmsgIB56EsSSHCnnyxMcXMjtIO-g0S8YzSI3pErzwN0bfqLmJLqzCjtdl77JNEk12ClqKbAUkippm1n1uHkgdFbgkixNpK67ivpd1nxLBFmgfgt5vnF2bdridJIjUcVaybDpUfUCE/s1600/DSCN0844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cMpmsgIB56EsSSHCnnyxMcXMjtIO-g0S8YzSI3pErzwN0bfqLmJLqzCjtdl77JNEk12ClqKbAUkippm1n1uHkgdFbgkixNpK67ivpd1nxLBFmgfgt5vnF2bdridJIjUcVaybDpUfUCE/s320/DSCN0844.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"MAKE SURE THEY GET YOUR GOOD SIDE, GOOD SIDE..."</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Is there not a more famous profile in football history? This is the very accurate statue of legendary Dallas Cowboys head coach Tom Landry, which now stands guard outside of Cowboys Stadium in Arlington. More about "Jerry World" forthcoming soon in Episode 6...</span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3394476818637298070.post-83330758330653880872012-04-09T19:23:00.005-06:002012-04-09T19:34:13.548-06:00Travelblog: 2012 Worldwide Texas Tour, Episode 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWPvp6FpOihSCAx765tY3L0kplS_0vTIbN2TGZa272_3mPJjdpDzlObo0YIh_oFlRp_nTS0LEX68x7MFR3mMJkfUh1cbcpnBmrFsxgsUxFDDt5rKU5i5NPXd2U4Zw13XN7Ra9ax8gt1E/s1600/DSCN0799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWPvp6FpOihSCAx765tY3L0kplS_0vTIbN2TGZa272_3mPJjdpDzlObo0YIh_oFlRp_nTS0LEX68x7MFR3mMJkfUh1cbcpnBmrFsxgsUxFDDt5rKU5i5NPXd2U4Zw13XN7Ra9ax8gt1E/s320/DSCN0799.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">UNFORGETTABLE...</span></strong><br />
I'd been there before, but I remembered to make it a point to stop by the Alamo in San Antonio again on the 2012 WWTT. My trusty and ever-prescient iPod has a good memory too--as I approached the Alamo on foot, without any provocation from me, Mr. iPod kicked in with an Ozzy Osbourne song. Long about 30 years ago, the Prince of Darkness got pissed as a newt while staying in San Antone, and summarily took a whiz on the famed landmark, which landed him in the pokey for the night.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGoOnH8TocEKVTNcQZq9bQ01BYt2h0KAlgm14BYuI1xBpezGhakgFzT6pHVK_mXRk0ADwIOJIWg57USKn9mV2r1vC-VXXF3Y4_RGGHoZkYU0sdoTJnZkSQH2jIEPSSxc9frokjSR3y0E/s1600/DSCN0801.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieGoOnH8TocEKVTNcQZq9bQ01BYt2h0KAlgm14BYuI1xBpezGhakgFzT6pHVK_mXRk0ADwIOJIWg57USKn9mV2r1vC-VXXF3Y4_RGGHoZkYU0sdoTJnZkSQH2jIEPSSxc9frokjSR3y0E/s320/DSCN0801.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>"GIMME SOME OF YOUR FINE FAMOUS BAR-B-Q..."</strong></span><br />
I decided to dine al fresco (as opposed to Al Yankovic) along the San Antonio Riverwalk, and checked out some local BBQ fare at a joint called The County Line. I enjoyed their sampler platter of meaty delights, and it was all quite tasty, especially that gi-normous beef rib, as well as the turkey and sausage. Still not quite as good as K.C. barbecue, but not too shabby, Texas.<br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KK-Sr4KNq5wEZF3QGSAhjxybDYbWjef1rgZti7GOnXuTIcgMUlTpJQBfIToCA9XsFbGU5N6Yi60w1UmfqC-v3vqL3fLx-fr78gl54f_RM6n8b6Ov3kmUAU68OgPcClbZpJmux_urwuU/s1600/DSCN0806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9KK-Sr4KNq5wEZF3QGSAhjxybDYbWjef1rgZti7GOnXuTIcgMUlTpJQBfIToCA9XsFbGU5N6Yi60w1UmfqC-v3vqL3fLx-fr78gl54f_RM6n8b6Ov3kmUAU68OgPcClbZpJmux_urwuU/s320/DSCN0806.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>REMEMBER THE <em>OTHER </em>ALAMO</strong></span><br />
The Stadium Stalker struck again while in San Antonio, as he alertly spotted an open gate and snuck into Alamo Stadium, just north of downtown. Built back during the Great Depression, it's home mostly to high school and small college football and track & field events now, but it was once upon a time home to professional football for very brief stints in the '70s and '80s with the short-lived San Antonio Wings of the World Football League and the San Antonio Gunslingers of the USFL. Neat old stadium, but it loses a little something with the evil AstroTurf they haven't replaced with Field Turf yet.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">AUSTIN CITY LIMITED</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Not pictured here, mostly because I didn't take any photos there, is the city of Austin, which I spent one night in. During my previous visit to Austin in 2000, I only got to see it late at night from I-35 because of poor planning on my part. It was a Friday night, and I'd just come from San Antonio, and was planning to get a room in Austin, but there were none to be had because of something called the Texas Relays. Even rooms in nearby towns like Round Rock were booked solid, so I wound up catching a cat-nap in the car at a rest area instead. I actually had a room this time, but it wasn't really worth it for what little I did in the city. The traffic on I-35 (both northbound and southbound) was a total clusterfuck (even after rush hour), and I was too tired and frustrated to get out and do the drinking and music district south of downtown, so I just cruised the U ot T campus a bit, and passed by the state capitol, where people were out protesting the Trayvon Martin thing. [Never mind that his murder took place in Florida, but when there's political football to be played, I guess the state doesn't matter.] Anyway, Austin wound up being the big disappointment of the trip.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5er7tKFB7fH9sLP-j3afTuok32dCbisB1-8CvG7DSeNCd3S93UOL2sJBCL1fPaDm7mjSAC6DtgVIwEf8Bn5sfOLmIdtME_U7mq9rJ_a9jEyagS55s8IKZYmAFeK07rzsPsxu_6IvD3ko/s1600/DSCN0812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5er7tKFB7fH9sLP-j3afTuok32dCbisB1-8CvG7DSeNCd3S93UOL2sJBCL1fPaDm7mjSAC6DtgVIwEf8Bn5sfOLmIdtME_U7mq9rJ_a9jEyagS55s8IKZYmAFeK07rzsPsxu_6IvD3ko/s320/DSCN0812.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>WHACKO IN WACO</strong><br />
Stadium Stalker struck again at the University of Baylor on a Wednesday morning, at Floyd Casey Stadium (not to be confused with Floyd Cramer Stadium). That gaggle of people on the field was apparently the inquisition at one of these NFL "Pro Days". Essentially, these exercises in overkill amount to an opportunity for budding young players like QB Robert Griffin III (that's him standing on the nearest goal line underneath the crossbar of the goal post) to show off for and/or impress the various scouts and media people.</span><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">NOT PICTURED HERE...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">...but worthy of mention is the Texas Sports Hall of Fame, also located in Waco. Lots of great displays and exhibits there for pretty much all sports, including an outstanding tribute to the old Southwest Conference (SMU, TCU, Rice, Houston, Texas, Texas Tech, Texas A&M and Arkansas) that was housed in a psuedo mock-up of the Cotton Bowl stadium. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDiWX3x9lbAE_NZM-6DXcrn_Vsww-92SNSn9c3KBXQPI5L-G_Wk-LW1VM8PLutQAqjPNcs4Ph2NiIx3H_t5i-Qn9mV2igwAJnVFVVaY2Kkui4dM_uvxKg33smPLG5ILsfXL3QRKZGkwCs/s1600/MunstersHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="231" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDiWX3x9lbAE_NZM-6DXcrn_Vsww-92SNSn9c3KBXQPI5L-G_Wk-LW1VM8PLutQAqjPNcs4Ph2NiIx3H_t5i-Qn9mV2igwAJnVFVVaY2Kkui4dM_uvxKg33smPLG5ILsfXL3QRKZGkwCs/s320/MunstersHouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><strong>THE <em>NEW</em> 1313 MOCKINGBIRD LANE</strong><br />
Lily and Herman weren't home, but I think I saw Grandpa flying about when I stopped by Waxahatchie, Texas' most famous homestead, the Munsters replica mansion, just a little ways south of the Dallas clusterfuck--er uh--Metroplex. This isn't actually my photo--I stole it from the 'net because the house is located on a narrow country highway with no safe place to park my car. Plus, this gate is shrouded by trees--I passed right by the place twice without seeing it because it was hidden so well. The interior is also quite close in detail to the one on the TV show (I'd love to see Grandpa's dungeon!), apart from the coffin in the wall that served as a telephone booth--the wife of the house thought it was too creepy to replicate that. O</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">ne weekend per year prior to Halloween, <a href="http://www.munstermansion.com/home.html">the folks who built and own the house</a> open it up for public viewing, often in conjunction with guest appearances by former cast members Butch Patrick (Eddie) and Pat Priest (Marilyn). </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Ironically, my hotel in Dallas was located near a street called Mockingbird Lane.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5gySGj3Tn5X1Fz6YFM4AWDJbuAhupTyNI0XmbOSqsePGZcIC2IKn28z9zFP3xTI_dXTpcFMrKPQK88AdMqTHpcWDWL7Pmg_Wtdp4S7Pf9faBW6jkJvPZXpftTmLLArIO90CbwKuOgaA/s1600/DSCN0822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ5gySGj3Tn5X1Fz6YFM4AWDJbuAhupTyNI0XmbOSqsePGZcIC2IKn28z9zFP3xTI_dXTpcFMrKPQK88AdMqTHpcWDWL7Pmg_Wtdp4S7Pf9faBW6jkJvPZXpftTmLLArIO90CbwKuOgaA/s320/DSCN0822.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><strong><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">STEAK-ING MY CLAIM...</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This was my Wednesday lunch at a place west of downtown Ft. Worth called Fred's Texas Cafe, featured on "Diners, Drive-Ins & Dives". I was a bit leery about eating at a place run by a cook who sports a very respectable Z.Z. Top beard, but Fred's claim to fame is his spicy 16-ounce ribeye steak, which I couldn't resist trying. It was pretty damn good, once my eyes stopped bleeding from the jalapeno smoke and I could actually taste it, that is. I'm not quite sure if it was worth what I paid for it, but I enjoyed it anyway. Guy Fieri was 2-for-2 at this point on the trip... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"> </span>Brian Hollandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15093201252403779991noreply@blogger.com0