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[EDITOR'S NOTE: Be forewarned that my first item below is bound to offend certain people, especially sycophant fans of Tammy Faye Bakker. Reader discretion advised...]
PLEASE MAKE IT GO AWAY!
I normally don’t root for another person to die, nor is it usually my nature to revel in someone having cancer, but I make an exception when it comes to human feces like Tammy Faye Bakker Messner (or whatever her fucking name is now). She appeared on "Larry King Live" last night for the eleventy-millionth time, this time with the caption "Tammy Faye Gravely Ill". The interview apparently was TF’s idea and not Larry’s, and if you truly want to see death warmed over, check it out, but be forewarned--she ain't a pretty sight (not that she ever was to begin with). Looking like an elderly drag queen, TFBM bore a rather eerie resemblance to late ventriloquist Wayland Flowers’ former partner
depicted here, and her voice sounded like that of a lifetime two-pack-a-day smoker during this waste of perfectly good CNN airtime. Leave it to this shameless self-promoter to exploit even her own inevitable demise and seize the opportunity to have one last pity party on Larry’s show for all her adoring fans. Coincidentally, The Kansas City Star also published a little blurb yesterday about Tammy Faye becoming "Kansas City’s newest resident celebrity", having recently moved to one of our Ritzier southern suburbs. Do they really think we give a rat’s gonad?!? It’s all academic anyway—it don’t appear she’ll be a KC resident very long, given that she has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.
Pardon me if I don’t shed any tears for this ugly bitch—has everyone besides me forgotten how Tammy Faye became rich and famous in the first place? She used to shed crocodile tears and beg for money along with her asshat ex-husband Rev. Jim Bakker and bilked millions of dollars out of emotionally crippled and/or simple-minded check-writing viewers of their "P.T.L. (‘Pass The Loot’) Club" show, all the while hiding behind righteousness and The Bible. Sorry gang, but I have NO respect whatsoever for money-grubbing TV evangelists who lead extravagant lives of luxury, and I’m especially tired of the way the media—Larry King, in particular—fawns over this shallow-as-shit publicity hound and gives her so much face time on TV and in the papers. Hell, this Messner guy she married is a convicted felon too—these are people I'm supposed to look up to? And now we’re ‘spose to all feel sorry for Tammy Faye because she’s got the Big C? Well, what goes around comes around, sweetheart—just do us all a big favor and fucking die already, you worthless mascara-laden lump of shit!
As for Larry "I Have A Face Made For Radio" King, I actually used to like him back when he had his latenight radio show in the late ‘70s. This was back when talk radio was more free-form and King would just take calls all night about any subject during his "Open Phone America" segments. One minute, he’d be talking politics, the next he’d talk baseball or movies or something, and it was quite enjoyable. Anymore though, I’ve lost all respect for King because of the way he slobbers (figuratively) all over his celebrity guests during interviews, especially Tammy Faye. I nearly hurled when he made the gratuitous remark last night "she’s been so brave in the face of all this…" Then again, anyone who’s been married and divorced as often as Lawrence Harvey Zeiger has (seven and counting!) with the balls to change his surname to King is probably a total douche, anyway...
SPEAKING OF UGLINESS…
…that’s what this whole Michael Vick thing is going to be for the next few months. Yes, I know—innocent until proven guilty, and all—but I have to say that he looks pretty darn guilty to me, based on what I’ve read and heard. He should at least do Atlanta and the NFL a big favor by stepping aside and taking a paid leave of absence until all this gets sorted out because he’s no good to the team at this point. The players and coaches will constantly have to deal with all the media distractions, and how could he possibly focus on leading the Falcons to a Super Bowl and handle all this legal stuff at the same time? More power to Vick if he can prove his innocence, but I sure don’t foresee any kind of positive outcome for him in all this.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #40
"Honky Cat"—ELTON JOHN (1972) "Boy, you gotta tend a farm…" I originally interpreted this as "Boy, you got a telephone..."!
DERF STRIKES AGAIN!
[Click pic to enlarge it] I swear, this Derf guy channels my mind sometimes! By the way, a tip for all you potential car thieves out there: I highly suggest you pay a visit to Raytown, MO sometime and just hang out in front of any convenience store for any length of time—you’re bound to hit paydirt here. I always lock my car up even to just stop in for beer or whatever, but I constantly see these fools pull up to QuikTrip, et al, and enter the store with their motor still running, windows wide open and stereo blaring. The damn car might as well have a neon sign attached to it that flashes "MY OWNER'S AN IDIOT—STEAL ME, PLEASE!" It just astounds me how careless some people are with their vehicles.
ALL ABOARD THE LAST TRAIN TO SOULSVILLE…
A little TV alert for you: In a piece of perfect timing for me as I nearly finish reading my Stax Records book, PBS will be airing a documentary on Stax as part of the 50th anniversary of the founding of the legendary Memphis soul record company that gave us the likes of Otis Redding, Isaac Hayes, Booker T & The MGs, Sam & Dave, Rufus Thomas, The Dramatics, et al. The show airs on or around August 1st on PBS as part of their "Great Performances" series, so check your local listings, as they say in T.V. circles…
Today was Bruce Springsteen day on my CD player at work. Have to admit I didn’t much care for "The Boss" at first—I was highly resistant to his stuff in the late ‘70s mostly because the critics went apeshit over him, and at that time I was leery of anyone that Rolling Stone, Creem, et al, went apeshit over. This was also the period when the Royals played the Yankees in the playoffs every year, and even though Bruce is from Jersey, I pretty much despised anything or anyone even remotely connected to New York City (except for Kiss and "Saturday Night Live"), so I childishly ignored Springsteen for a long time. I finally made peace with him during the ‘80s and grew to respect him, although I still think he’s a tad overrated ("Streets Of Philadelphia", for instance) at times.
One of these fine days, I’m going to finally sit down and write my book What Were They Smoking When They Wrote That?, and when I do, I plan to devote an entire chapter to "Blinded By The Light"—ol’ Brucie had to be on something when he wrote that song! As for the rest of his music, I made it a point to "rediscover" his CD catalog about five years ago, and found some pretty good music there. Overall, I’m more partial to his ‘80s stuff as opposed to his ‘70s albums, apart from the classic Born To Run. The River is a much better record than I originally gave Bruce credit for, both the Tunnel of Love and Human Touch albums have their moments, and of course Born In The USA is mighty fine. Judging by the old video footage I’ve seen, Bruce and the E Street Band were something to behold live in concert back in the day and they gave people their money’s worth too, often playing for three hours or more.
My All-Time Bruce Springsteen Top 10:
10) [Tie] "Born In The USA" (1984)/"Pink Cadillac" (1984) Bruce’s 2nd-best songs with "Born" or "Cadillac" in their title, respectively.
9) "Working On The Highway" (1984) One of the few off Born In The USA that wasn’t a big hit, but I always liked it. Nice irony of "The Boss" to always side with the working man, too.
8) "Born To Run" (1975) Mighty hard to leave this one off the list, being it’s Bruce’s signature song.
7) "War" (1985) Excellent remake of the 1970 Edwin Starr classic. Now might be a good time to remake it again…
6) "Rosalita" (Live-1978) Love the live concert video of this one that they show on VH-1 Classic all the time. Bruce’s band introductions were almost as entertaining as the song itself.
5) "From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)" (Dave Edmunds) (1982) Bruce wrote this one specifically for Dave and never actually recorded it himself, but it counts all the same—great song, too.
4) "Glory Days" (1984) Love the hook melody during the choruses. Great song, but lame video.
3) "Cadillac Ranch" (1980) Car songs never go out of style...
2) "Tunnel Of Love" (1987) Very ‘80s-sounding, and I love the guitar solo here by Nils Lofgren that Bruce yodels over.
1) "Human Touch" (1992) Song that had some very special meaning to me during a 1999 weekend trip to Colorado.
Time to salute a lady who has become one of my all-time favorite singers in a relatively short period of time, one Mary Catherine Isabel Bernadette O'Brien, better known to the world as Dusty Springfield. To some, she is merely an icon of '60s fashion excess, and there's little doubt that Dusty single-handedly kept the folks at Revlon in business via her near-obsessive overuse of eyeliner and mascara (she was pretty enough without all that, IMO), but trust me folks, there's a whole lot more to this girl than just big hair, "Wishin' And Hopin'" and "Son of A Preacher Man".
I've only gotten to know Dusty's body of work—beyond just the big oldies station hits, anyway—within the past five years or so after buying her Rhino Records best-of compilation CD, and I was instantly hooked by her soulful voice and underrated songs. Much like with Journey, Cheap Trick, The Police, et al, I actually prefer Dusty's "B-stuff" over her "A-stuff", but then again, just about all her stuff is on the A-level anyway. Dusty Springfield had a very acute ear for superior songs to interpret (or re-interpret), and an innate ability to add her own personal touch to songs that were written for her by others. She particularly excelled on songs written by Burt Bacharach/Hal David, as well as Carole King/Gerry Goffin, and her 1969 album Dusty In Memphis was critically acclaimed (and for once, the bleedin' critics were right!).
Sadly, Dusty's personal life was very checkered, at best. Her dysfunctional family upbringing, as well as her sexual confusion/lesbianism, left her with scars that never quite healed, thus leading to a lifetime of self-inflicted torment and abuse (chemical and otherwise), and I don't think she ever fully realized how truly beloved—let alone how truly gifted—she was. In an even more cruel twist of fate, she succumbed to breast cancer at age 59 in 1999 just days before she was inducted into the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame (where fellow über-Dusty fan Sir Elton John did the honors). There has been talk in recent years of a biopic film on Dusty's life (with Charlize Theron in the lead role and Ang Lee directing), but nothing has materialized as of yet. Could be very interesting, if given the proper cinematic treatment...
Next up in my alphabetical sojourn thru my CDs is Rick Springfield. What the fuck's he doing in my collection?!? Oy vey...
My All-Time Mary Catherine Isabel Bernadette O'Brien Top 10:
10) "Just A Little Lovin'" (1969) Lead-off track from Dusty In Memphis composed by the legendary Mann-Weil songwriting team.
9) "What Have I Done To Deserve This?" (w/The Pet Shop Boys) (1987) Song that led to a major resurgence in Dusty's popularity and renewed interest worldwide in her music.
8) "I Close My Eyes And Count To Ten" (1968) Later covered quite nicely by Blondie and Tracey Ullman in the '80s.
7) "Stay Awhile" (1964) Convincing enough that Miss Dusty wouldn't have had to twist my arm to hang around after singing this one...
6) "I'll Try Anything" (1967) Song that never even charted in the US, but should've. It hit #13 in merry ol' England.
5) "In The Middle Of Nowhere" (1966) Song chuck-full of sassiness that the likes of Queen Latifah and that talent-less Pink bitch can only dream about...
4) "You Don't Have To Say You Love Me" (1966) Of all her "drama queen" hits, this one may well have been her most drama-queeniest!
3) "I Only Want To Be With You" (1964) Dusty's first big hit in the States, and it's been covered by a zillion people, including the Bay City Rollers, and my personal favorite, Samantha Fox. Then again, I think Sam's video might've influenced my opinion...
2) "I Don't Want To Hear It Anymore" (1969) Dusty's favorite track off Dusty In Memphis, and mine too. Very atmospheric, and perfect for the time it came out. Composed by Randy "Short People" Newman, of all songwriters...
1) [Tie] "Goin' Back" (1966)/"Little By Little" (1966) Why neither of these weren't bigger hits on the U.S. charts is beyond me. The former is a very touching Goffin-King song about growing older and aging gracefully that was played at Dusty's funeral. The latter is a sassy piece of attitude that made Aretha Franklin look pretty wimpy by comparison...
I am very bummed to learn of the passing of Girlschool guitarist Kelly Johnson, who died yesterday of cancer of the spine at age 49.
Girlschool was heavy metal's answer to The Go-Go's back in the early '80s, and these girls—yes, they actually played their own instruments—made contemporary bands like Judas Priest and Van Halen sound like The Archies at times, and had far more balls than Vinnie Vincent of Kiss ever did. Their collaborations with Uncle Lemmy and Motorhead are also fairly legendary and 1981's Hit And Run is absolutely one of my favorite metal albums of all-fucking-time.
I never actually met Kelly Johnson (second from left in this photo), but I do have her autograph. Rather ironically, Girlschool made an in-store appearance 25 years ago this week on July 10, 1982 at my favorite record haunt, the long-defunct Village Records in Raytown. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I had to work that morning at my much-despised bus boy gig at Waid's Restaurant, and got off work at 2:00. Back then I was a night owl, so going to bed early the night before working day shift was a foreign concept to me, thus as per my usual, all I wanted to do when I got home from work was crash on the sofa in my basement bedroom for a few hours. Meantime, my good friend Tom was frantically trying to call me from the record shop to alert me of the goings-on there, but I was comatose by that time and didn't hear the phone ringing upstairs, and no one else was home at the time to answer it, thus I majorly missed out on an opportunity at a brush with greatness. However, each band member was kind enough to sign a copy of Hit And Run for me. Why on earth we didn't go to their concert that night at Memorial Hall mystifies me to this day. Girlschool is another band I deeply regret not seeing live in concert back in the day, as I've heard they put on a great show and rocked out just as much as the boys did.
A long-belated "Cheers, you lot" for the autograph, Kelly, and may you rest in peace...
COMISKEY PARK 
"
The very heart of the ballpark, where it's at its weirdest, is down under the stands...The mixture of people, strange places and things, resembles a drive-in flea market taking place at the same time with a world ethnic food festival...Aisleways of all different sizes, some no wider than four fat people walking abreast, force folks to cram together...Pickpockets must have a field day...Junk clutters it...Paper cups, All-Star ballots from God knows what year lie ground into the floor..."
I borrowed the above quotation from one of my all-time favorite books, Dodger Dogs to Fenway Franks by Bob Wood, which chronicled his 1985 trek across America to visit each and every Major League Baseball stadium, and his entry on Chicago's Comiskey Park is one of the best chapters in the book. From the 1919 "Black Sox" scandal to the 1979 "Disco Demolition", the original Comiskey Park had quite possibly the wackiest history of any ballpark in baseball, wackier than even venerable Ebbets Field in Brooklyn. Built in 1910 by owner Charles Comiskey, the park was home to some of the craziest shit the grand ol' game has ever witnessed during its 81 seasons of existence.
The "Old Roman", Mr. Comiskey spared no expense on building the stadium, but was a total skin-flint when it came to paying his players, hence the player revolt that led to "Shoeless" Joe Jackson and the boys throwing the 1919 World Series vs. the Reds (chronicled in the fine film Eight Men Out, starring John Cusack and Charlie Sheen). The White Sox didn't return to the Fall Classic until 40 year later during the "Go-Go Sox" era and lost to the L.A. Dodgers 4 game to 2 in the 1959 World Series, during which outfielder Al Smith received a beer shower (Old Style, I presume). The park's other big moment in the sun was when it hosted the very first Major League Baseball All-Star Game in 1933. Also known as White Sox Park during the '60s and '70s, Comiskey Park I at one time featured the heinous combination of an Astroturf infield and grass outfield (visible in the top photo) during the early '70s, and also served as home field to the NFL's Chicago Cardinals until they moved to St. Louis in 1960.
Things got really fun when Bill Veeck (as in "Wreck") bought the team in '59 and installed the park's trademark, the exploding scoreboard, replete with pinwheels and fireworks that went off after each White Sox home run. Never afraid to try any gimmick, Veeck even employed aliens (legal ones!) on his ground crew. He sold the team after just two years, then bought it again in 1975 (after they nearly left town), and that's when the insanity truly began...
Veeck would try practically anything to put fannies in the seats, so nothing was too outrageous on the South Side. Ever the baseball purist, Veeck immediately chucked the Astroturf infield for the 1976 season, and outfitted the team in baggy turn-of-the-century retro uniforms. He also took the waredrobe alteration a step further by having the Sox wear shorts during selected home games. Upon seeing the players wearing them for the first time, former K.C. Royals first baseman John Mayberry smirked, "You guys are the sweetest team we've seen yet!" Veeck didn't stop there—he installed a 
shower in the center field bleachers where fans could cool off during hot summer afternoons, and you could also get a haircut from a professional barber (for free, I think) in said bleachers. All the while, you had Hall of Famer Harry Caray singing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" from the broadcast booth during the 7th inning stretch, and his radio partnership with borderline psychotic Jimmy Piersall was the stuff of urban legends.
Veeck's legacy is synonymous with his biggest promotion that backfired—the infamous "Disco Demolition Night" on July 12, 1979. Chicago DJ Steve Dahl conducted the ceremony between games of a doubleheader between the Sox and Detroit Tigers. Fans could get in the park for a mere 98 cents (Dahl's FM radio station frequency) if they presented a disco record, which coincidentally made a damn good frisbee, and they were flying like foul balls throughout the first game. During's Dahl's between-game ceremony, a crate full of disco records was blown to smithereens, thus setting off a full-fledged riot as fans overtook the field and tore the place apart. The White Sox wound up forfeiting game two of the doubleheader. Long live Rock, indeed!!
No account of old Comiskey Park would be complete without mentioning the First Lady of Chicago, organist Nancy Faust. This gal can play just about anything—Jazz, Rock, Country, Gospel, Polkas, the Mickey Mouse theme, whatever—Nancy is very beloved on the South Side, and she helped make "Na Na, Hey, Hey (Kiss Him Goodbye)" the penultimate "Turn Out The Lights" song at any sports stadium, and she still plays for the Sox today at U.S. Cellblock—er uh—Cellular Field.
I visited the old park at 35th & Shields twice, first in 1985 and again during the stadium's final season in 1990. Mr. Wood's account of the unkempt-ness of the park in the opening paragraph above was pretty darn accurate, but I loved it anyway. It was a taste of a by-gone era for me, and I got a kick out of how quirky this place was. The picnic area under the left field stands was so aromatic from the burgers being grilled, and I'd never been that close to a left fielder during an actual game before. I loved the zig-zag ramps that ran behind the exploding scoreboard too, and I remember ashes from the fireworks fallout after a Sox dinger landing on us in the right field stands. The layout of this stadium was goofy as all get-out too—pillars in the middle of the concourse that seemed to serve no useful purpose, hallways that led to nothing, and I remember this one soda/popcorn stand that was carved into upper deck stands on the first base side in which the poor concessionaires literally could not stand straight up—the Hunchback of Notre Dame woulda loved it! The old seats at Comiskey were harder than marble too, and I couldn't believe how bad the sightlines were in the seats down the foul lines—you literally had to turn your head at a 45º angle to see home plate! I'll also never forget the sound a Carlton Fisk batting practice home run made when it struck the metal beam on the front of the left field upper deck stands—it sounded exactly like the climactic gong at the end of the Moody Blues' "Nights In White Satin"! 
As twilight set in on Old Comiskey Park, so did senility, and as goofy and crazy and beloved as the place was, it had to be replaced, or its prime tenant would have become the Tampa Bay White Sox in 1989. Almost too late, the Illinois legislature okayed funds at the 11th hour to build Comiskey Park II right nextdoor. For reasons that are unclear to this day, the stadium designers opted to aim the new park away from the famous downtown Chicago skyline and instead give Sox fans a lovely view of the ghetto! From an upper deck seat with a decent pair of binoculars at the rather antiseptic new park (which opened in 1991), one could easily catch a glimpse of Thelma and J.J. from "Good Times" having yet another argument in the Projects across the Dan Ryan Expressway! The White Sox partially realized the error of their ways a couple years ago and made some very nice cosmetic changes to Comiskey II, including lopping off the top five rows of the veritgo-inducing upper deck and replacing them with an old-school ballpark roof. They did succumb to corporate gluttony by changing the name to U.S. Cellular Field, but considering that Charles Comiskey was a complete and total dickhead anyway, in this case I'll waive my usual disdain for corporate stadium names. And great day in the morning—the White Sox won the freakin' World Series in 2005, too!
The old joint had one last moment of grandeur, as a scene from the John Candy/Ally Sheedy film Only The Lonely (as in the classic Roy Orbison tune) was filmed there following the 1990 season, and the exploding scoreboard put on one last show. Sadly, like a relative dying of old age, old Comiskey Park was slowly demolished in 1991. It would have been more fitting to just detonate the place (just like those Disco records in 1979), with a climactic barrage of pyro from the scoreboard, which could have literally exploded for the finale.
...IT'S COS'S BIRTHDAY TODAY!
Can you believe Bill Cosby turned 70 today? His b-day is easy to remember from one of his classic routines from the ‘60s: "July 12th—my birthday…it was 104 degrees—in the shade. Not a snowball in sight…" Sadly, the man has become rather aloof in his later years—now he’s MISTER Cosby instead of just plain Bill like he used to be. Although I certainly don’t disagree with his "crusade" about changing certain elements of Black culture, etc., he’s become too professorial and jaded for my liking. Some of it is certainly understandable—losing his only son the way he did would make anyone bitter. I wish he’d at least lose those damn Ray Charles sunglasses he always wears nowadays—as brother Russell would say, "NO class!"
But let’s not forget that this man was brilliantly funny at one time, and he’s right up there with George Carlin and Richard Pryor as one of my all-time favorite stand-up comedians and he's far and away the best comedic storyteller of all-time. I have just about every last one of his albums from the ‘60s and early ‘70s memorized verbatim, and "Fat Albert & The Cosby Kids" cracked me up when I was a kid. It was one of the better animated kids’ shows of all-time because it managed to be funny and teach a lesson at the same time without losing its cool and getting preachy, and I'd like to think I'm a better person for having watched it. "The Cosby Show" had its moments too, but I grew rather tired of the overall tone of that show over time because it got too heavy-handed and message-y—a prime example being pompous symbolic Black consciousness crap like naming the twins "Nelson" and "Winnie".
We can forgive all that though, because you have to admit that Cosby’s overall contribution to the world of comedy is pretty darn "o-bee kay-bee".
HYPOCRISY REVISITED
I just can’t help but point out the disingenuousness of Johnson County D.A. Phill Kline even considering seeking the death penalty for the punk accused of killing Kelsey Smith. For the uninitiated out there, Mr. Kline (for whom one ‘l’ apparently isn’t enough to spell "Phil") is the over-zealous anti-abortion former Kansas Attorney General who tried to circumvent female patients’ privacy rights in order to go after certain abortion doctors in the Land of Oz.
Funny, but I thought conservatives were so dead set against "activists" in the legal profession…
SHE DIED AGAIN?!?Former President Lyndon Johnson’s wife Lady Bird died yesterday at age 94. Not to make fun, but I honestly thought the former First Lady Bird was already dead! Hell, LBJ died what, 34 and a half years ago? I figured she had died a long time ago, but she still missed Bess Truman’s all-time record for longest-living First Lady by about three years.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #39
"Night Moves"—BOB SEGER & THE SILVER BULLET BAND (1976) My ears totally butchered this song when it first came out. "Tight pants points hardly reknown." I thought they were "Hollowing out". "We were just young and restless and bored/Living by the sword…" sounded more like "And everybody saw…" "We weren’t searching for some pie-in-the-sky summit." Summit sounded like "Something". Dammit Seger, enunciate, will ya!
TAKE IT OUTSIDE!
The NHL is kicking around the idea of staging another outdoor regular season hockey game, this time at Buffalo’s Ralph Wilson Stadium between the Sabres and Pittsburgh Penguins on New Year’s Day. Great idea, unless you want TV viewers to actually watch the game! Memo to NHL: January 1st is wall-to-wall college football bowl games—why not schedule the outdoor game for that misbegotten weekend prior to the Super Bowl when there’s nothing but poker games and spelling bees on sports TV?
IT'S NOT A SPORT!!!
I keep forgetting to comment on that silly Hot Dog Eating contest they held last week on the 4th. Just like this current Ultimate Fighting Champion fad crap, this thing will continue to grow in popularity until somebody dies while doing it, which is only a matter of time. As for eating contests, I say make it a challenge. Instead of competitively eating something tasty, why not hold a fruitcake eating contest? Anyone who can get all the way through one fruitcake would be the champion!
MOTHER NATURE’S COLORS WERE SHOWING…
…at Coors Field in Denver yesterday, when the Rockies-Phillies game was rather rudely interrupted by a violent little storm that overcame the ballpark so fast that the ground crew struggled to get the tarp down on the field. One poor guy (long about the 4:00-mark of the above video clip) gave new meaning to the term "dragging the infield" by hanging on to the tarp for dear life. It got so bad that even the Philadelphia players and the umpires came out to lend a hand, and it was rather comical to watch. And in typical Colorado weather fashion, an hour later it was bright and sunny again, and they were able to finish the game.
In a semi-related story, an afternoon rainstorm on the 4th of July put the kibosh on the Kansas City Royals' super-megawatt postgame fireworks display which they had heavily promoted. The weather cleared out in plenty of time to get the game in, but even though the display apparatus was covered before it rained, moisture literally short-circuited some of its electronic boards and the show was no-go. To their ultimate credit, the Royals immediately sought to make good on it by giving out vouchers to those in attendance for a free ticket to another home game, but that didn’t stop the local über-whiners from bitching up a storm (pun intended) about the whole thing. Sample the following from one letter-writing pyrotechnics expert in today's K.C. Star:
"Were the Royals so incompetent that they hired a company that couldn’t cover the fireworks or work to solve the problem during the game? The paper reported that a power failure caused the problem…Whatever happened to just using a match? Our Fourth of July memories were ruined, and even with the extra game ticket, we won’t return."
Ruined?!? Oh, GET OVER IT, already!!! As if this is the only time the Royals do fireworks? They do fucking fireworks after every Friday night home game, for crimeny's sake! As if no one else in K.C. had a fireworks display (for free, unlike the Royals game) on the 4th? People like her are just the kind I want to run over with my car (repeatedly). This letter writer’s address was Shawnee, KS, so I’m not at all surprised that it came from a whiny Johnson Countian. This bloody idiot had plenty of time to hop in her Hummer and drive about five minutes north of the stadium and see Worlds of Fun’s fireworks display, which is perennially one of the best in the city. Failing that, she could’ve driven ten minutes to my street in Raytown and seen plenty of pyro for well over two hours—and people using matches, to boot! And good gravy, the Royals did the best they could under the circumstances by trying to make amends, and I applaud them for it, so if you don’t want your free ticket, lady, then give it to me!
WHY I AIN’T VOTING FOR RUDY
According to Rudy Giuliani, "When I left, it (New York) was the safest large city in America. I reduced homicides by 67 percent. I reduced overall crime by 57 percent." Yes, Rudy, I respect you for the way you handled 9/11, and those statistics may in fact be true, but if you have the balls to take full credit for single-handedly accomplishing all that, then you’re just a tad too big for your britches there, bud. Now, if you'd used the word "we" in place of "I", then I might be a bit more inclined to listen to you…
MAYBE LIMBAUGH AND CO. WERE CORRECT (FOR ONCE)
Seems that in spite of having no practical political experience whatsoever, anti-war rabble rouser Cindy Sheehan is now threatening to run against House Speaker Nancy Pelosi in 2008 unless Pelosi gets the ball rolling on impeaching Dubya in the next two weeks. Hmmm, I thought Sheehan said she was done with all her protesting and such. Not that I disagree with her original cause—let alone the idea of impeaching Dubya—but now I think maybe her detractors were right about her after all. Sheehan has obviously become addicted to being a celebrity and has turned into a publicity hound and spotlight junkie, not unlike Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and their ilk. I’m sorry she lost her son in the war, but now her protests are starting to ring hollow and phony with me, and she sounds every bit like the radical liberal wingnut that Limbaugh, O’Reilly, Hannity, et al, accused her of being.
AS LONG AS I’M BEING CYNICAL…
…what exactly did this weekend’s Live Earth concert series accomplish, other than to feed Al Gore’s ego? What’s the bet most of the Live Earth performers (and Big Al) arrived at the venues in gas-guzzling limousines, eh? It’s a safe bet that many of them drive Hummers, too. Not that I have anything against the environment or looking for energy alternatives and all, but I’m so sick of this current phony "go green" crappola with all these celebrities and corporations jumping on this political bandwagon simply because it’s so fashionable now. I’m not buying their sincerity any more than I’m buying Wal-Mart’s claims in their commercials that "if X-number of Americans bought our tank tops each year, then the rain forests would be saved." Okay, I’m being facetious with that last bit, but that’s how it all comes across to me—pure hooey!
WORLD’S DUMBEST SONG LYRICS—Vol. VIA few more that I dug up…
"You’re All I Need"—MOTLEY CRUE (1987) "I loved you so I set you free...I had to take your life." Yeah right, Vince, Nikki, whoever—that makes a whole lotta sense. This might’ve been an even bigger hit than "Home Sweet Home" if it weren’t for such empty-headed lyrics and macho bullshit violent imagery. What a waste of a great backing track for a power ballad, too...
"For A Rocker"—JACKSON BROWNE (1984) "I’ve got a shirt so unbelievably right…I’m gonna take it out and wear it tonight for a Rocker!" Gee, one can only hope the Rocker was totally overwhelmed by J.B.’s choice of waredrobe! "Don’t have to feed ‘em—they don’t eat. They got their power supplies in the soles of their feet…" Huh? Exactly what kind of mutant creatures did they invite to this party? They sound like the Cantina Bar cretins in Star Wars to me…
"Long Stick Goes Boom"--KROKUS (1981) The title alone is so asinine here, I won't even bother with the lyrics.
"Kids In America"--KIM WILDE (1982) "New York to East California..." East California? What, did Lake Tahoe secede from the Union? Whoever wrote this song needs to brush up on his/her American geography."Beatin’ The Odds"—MOLLY HATCHET (1980) "And when it all was over, we won it in the end." Yet another entry from the Department of Redundancy Department…
...and you better believe it, baby!
Happy 67th b-day to our good friend Richard Starkey, better known to most Earthlings as Ringo Starr, MBE, and known to other Earthlings as Zac Starkey's dad. As Charlie Daniels might say, Ringo "ain't good-looking, but he sure can play..."
Oddly enough, even though he's hardly the greatest singer in the world, it was Ringo Starr who had the most consistent solo career success early on after the breakup of The Beatles. Apart from a handful of hit singles, Paul McCartney's solo career didn't really kick into high gear until late 1973's Band On The Run album. John Lennon was at times brilliant ("Instant Karma", "Imagine") and at times ignorant ("Woman Is The Nigger Of The World"), and George Harrison was pretty hit-and-miss—although "What Is Life?" is a classic, and acoustic guitars have never sounded better to me than they do on the intro to "My Sweet Lord". Meantime, it was Ringo (with a little help from his friends) churning out the hits, beginning with 1971's "It Don't Come Easy" and culminating with his classic 1973 album Ringo, which was the closest we ever came to a true Beatles reunion, as John, George and Paul all wrote songs for the album and played on it (just not all at the same time). Sadly, Ringo wasn't able to sustain a consistent solo career over time, but later had fun staging his All-Starr Band tours during the '80s and '90s with folks like Joe Walsh, Dave Edmunds, John Entwistle and Sheila E (?!?).
As much as I enjoy Ringo's drumming prowess, I have to say that his little boy, Zac Starkey of The Who, blows his old man away. It took The Who about 20 years to find a proper replacement for the late Keith Moon in young master Zac, who is both a basher and a timekeeper. Of course, it didn't hurt that Zac learned from Moon himself, as well as his dad, and even Peter Criss of Kiss, whom Zac was/is a huge fan of. And just like other Beatle offspring like Julian Lennon and Dhani Harrison, Zac bears a striking resemblance to dear ol' dad. I just wish he'd stop wasting his time (and talent) playing with those impudent Oasis pussies!
My All-Time Ringo Top 10:
10) "Only You (And You Alone)" (1974) Nice remake of the Platters' timeless classic.
9) "I'm The Greatest" (1973) Song I referenced in the above title line. J. Lennon wrote this one about himself initially, but thought it would come off sounding a tad arrogant coming from him if he sang it, so he handed it off to the ever-humble Ringo, and it worked out quite well.
8) "No No Song" (1974) A Hoyt Axton classic that may well be the funniest smoking/drinking/snorting song of all-time.
7) "Back Off Boogaloo" (1972) G. Harrison produced this one and plays guitar on it and a then-unknown Gary "Dream Weaver" Wright plays keyboards here too.
6) "Snookeroo" (1974) Written for Mr. Starkey by E. John and B. Taupin. E. John can be heard doing the count-in at the start, and get this—he plays piano on it, too. Imagine that!
5) "(It's All Down To) Goodnight Vienna" (1974) Lennon wrote this one for Ringo too, and plays some dandy pianny on it. I don't have a clue what the lyrics mean, but what the fuck...
4) "You're Sixteen" (1973) One of my favorite cover songs of all-time, featuring P. McCartney and the late Harry Nilsson on those dreaded "mouth saxes", better known as "kazoos" to us Americans.
3) "Oh My My" (1973) Ringo does disco before disco was even cool! I love those bass farts on this one during the chrouses, and I still swear that lyric went "This parakeet should keep you alive..."
2) "Photograph" (1973) Arguably the high point of Ringo's solo career. Outstanding "Wall of Sound" production by Richard Perry too.
1) "It Don't Come Easy" (1971) Another favorite of mine off the AM dial in the summer of '71. We'll forgive Ringo for flubbing the words to it (twice) during the Concert for Bangladesh too...
Pretty self-explanatory here—just kick back and enjoy what is quite possibly the ultimate career-killing music video and witness ‘80s guitarist/Eddie Van Halen wanna-be Billy Squier morph into a Richard Simmons look-a-like and inadvertently out himself all in one fell swoop! Truth be told, "Rock Me Tonite" wasn’t really all that bad a song, but I can’t hear it anymore without thinking of that embarrassing "Sir Prance-A-Lot" act in that damn video, in which Squier somehow managed to make Boy George and Prince seem like he-men by comparison! This video's just plain awful, period. Squier himself freely acknowledges it was a major tactical error on his part from which his career never recovered, even though he did put out some decent stuff afterward. Too bad too, because he wasn’t a bad guitar player.
For what it’s worth, my All-Time Billy Squier Top 5:
1) "Whaddya Want From Me?" (1981)
2) "Keep Me Satisfied" (1982)
3) "Everybody Wants You" (1982)
4) "Too Daze Gone" (1981)
5) "My Kinda Lover" (1981)
This is the current pre-game show video being used by the Kansas City Royals at Kauffman Stadium. Pretty slick, but it's too bad they have to reach back so far into the past to find those happier times...
Was somewhat alarmed to realize this morning that it was exactly 25 years ago tonight that my friend Tom and I attended one of the finest concerts I’ve ever witnessed, Elton John at Starlight Theater. Good moogly-woogly, where has the last quarter century gone? Oh well, I have very fond memories of that night, so I might as well share them…
Starlight is an 8,000-seat outdoor theater located in Kansas City’s Swope Park. Built in 1950, Starlight had been mostly used for summer musicals that appealed to the Geritol Generation featuring the likes of Julie Andrews, Juliet Prowse and Jim Nabors (who once swallowed a moth while singing onstage there, according to urban legend). Rock concerts were a rarity at Starlight, although we did see Paul Revere & The Raiders there in the Summer of ’71 when I was a wee lad of seven, and Starlight was undergoing a resurgence of sorts in the early ‘80s when new owners decided to stage fewer musicals and more concerts. I think Heart was the first Rock band to play there under the new regime in 1981 as sort of an "acid test", and it went well enough that a whole slew of Rock shows were scheduled there, including four during the first week of July, 1982. Tom and I caught the Charlie Daniels Band on a hot Saturday afternoon, and Asia played there on the 4th (we passed), then that "cat named Hercules" came in for two nights on the 6th and 7th.
Sir Elton was undergoing his own little resurgence at the time after spending about five years in the musical wilderness following his mid-‘70s heyday when he could do little or no wrong. He had just released his second album on his new label, Geffen Records, the very underrated Jump Up, and more importantly, he righted his own wrong by reuniting with his classic band lineup of drummer Nigel Olsson, bassist Dee Murray and guitarist Davey Johnstone. Still, this was my first Elton John concert, and given the dearth of truly decent material from EJ, as well as his lack of enthusiasm for performing at times during the prior five years, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from him. I needn’t have worried…
Tuesday night turned out to be surprisingly gorgeous for early July in K.C., and it was a most welcome change for me as I recovered from the sunburn I got at the C.D.B. show on Saturday. Quarterflash (of "Harden Your Heart" fame) was the opening act, and this was our second time with them, as they played a free concert the previous Thanksgiving Eve at the Lyric Theater in K.C. Too bad that band never went anywhere, because they weren’t too shabby live in concert. Then Elton hit the stage just before dark, opening with "Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding", and for the next two hours, he rocked the house with a nice mix of his classics, some new stuff and a few surprises along the way. Of the new stuff, the high point was the poignant "Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)"—easily the best of all the John Lennon tribute songs—and another new one called "Dear John" (not about Lennon) got a pretty good reaction, as did "Chloe" from his 1981 album The Fox.
One of the things I love most about Elton John is how he’s not afraid to pick out obscure tracks from his earlier albums—some of which he’d rarely (if ever) played live before—and dust them off and give them a go in concert instead of just playing the same tired old set list every tour. On this night, Elton’s "B-stuff" sounded every bit as good as his "A-stuff"—songs like "Better Off Dead" from Captain Fantastic, "All The Young Girls Love Alice" from Yellow Brick Road, "Teacher I Need You" from Don’t Shoot Me, "Ticking" from Caribou and a song that really grew on me after this show, "Where To Now, St. Peter?" from Tumbleweed Connection.
And oh yeah, the big hits sounded pretty sweet too. "The Bitch Is Back", "Pinball Wizard" and "Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting" and "Bennie & The Jets" never sounded better, and the band was very tight throughout—damn, it was great having these guys back together again! The highlight of the night may well have been a very trippy extended version of "Rocket Man" which featured some appropriately spacey guitar work from Johnstone. Elton closed the show with "Crocodile Rock" followed by a medley of old Rock ‘N’ Roll favorites ("Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On"/"I Saw Her Standing There"/"Twist And Shout"), and it was just an awesome fucking show. Out of the over 100 concerts I’ve attended since 1979, this one certainly ranks in my top two or three.
One reason why my memory of this show is so utterly sharp is because we had the good fortune of getting to hear Elton in concert all over again the next night, as the July 7th show was broadcast live on a few hundred radio stations nationally, and locally on the old KY-102. Tom and I both had tape rolling, and between the two of us, we were able to piece together the entire concert on cassette, so it’s like having a souvenir of the show we attended, since the set lists were identical both nights, and I still listen to it often—it’s far better than any official live album Elton’s ever put out, with the possible exception of the expanded double-CD release of 1976’s Here And There.
There was some funny stuff in that second night’s show, like after a song when Elton says, "Thank you, Kansas!" and after the applause dies down a bit, you can clearly hear some guy who was none too pleased with the omission of "City" scream out, "YOU’RE IN MISSOURI!!" Elton forgets a lyric in the middle of "Ticking", and his band introductions are rather humorous too, like when he refers to Davey Johnstone as "a guy who’s rejoined us after a while playing with other biggies—like Meat Loaf…" EJ also was very classy to give props to the venue itself by telling the nation, "If anybody ever wants to see a beautiful theater, come to Kansas City and see the Starlight Theater—it’s beautiful!" About the only downside to the recording is ever-pompous radio personality George Taylor Morris talking over the proceedings during the encores. Still, one of these days I’m going to transfer this sucker onto CDs.
Here’s the complete set list, btw:
Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding
All The Young Girls Love Alice
Someone Saved My Life Tonight
Better Off Dead
Ball And Chain
Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road
The Bitch Is Back
Pinball Wizard
Ticking
Elton's Song
Chloe
Where To Now, St. Peter?
Where Have All The Good Times Gone?
Rocket Man
Bennie & The Jets
Teacher I Need You
-------------------------------------
Dear John
Your Song
Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting
-------------------------------------
Daniel
Crocodile Rock
-------------------------------------
Medley: Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On/I Saw Her Standing There/Twist and Shout
No, not the blowhard radio host/big fat idiot. I'm referring to that Little ol' Band from Toronto who plays loud rhythmic music. My Rush is actually the early 80’s version, but many fans are partial to the 1970’s model (pictured here), and some folks even prefer the ‘90s-and-beyond Rush, but all are good in one way or another. If nothing else, you have to admire this classy band’s longevity and consistency, as well as their top-flight musicianship.
Rush was just another average Hard Rock band until their original drummer John Rutsey was dismissed because of health concerns (diabetes, namely) after their first album in 1974, and Messers. Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson lucked into finding a very talented drummer who also just happened to have a knack for writing intelligent lyrics, one young Neil Peart, and the rest is history.
I was rather resistant to Rush at first, despite my older sister’s encouragement to check them out in the late ‘70s. I was rather intimidated by their album-side-length Sci-Fi epics that I didn’t relate all that well to, plus Lee’s shrieky banshee vocals grated on me at times. But once Geddy got control of his voice and truly learned how to sing (long about the time of 1981’s Moving Pictures), I began to take notice of the band, and I loved their next album Signals, which helped get me through my first semester in college in the fall of 1982. I actually found it refreshing to hear a band singing about space shuttles, pleasure domes and quarrelling trees, etc., instead of the usual "suck-and-fuck" Rock ‘N’ Roll subject matter, which renders Rush’s early classic (before Peart's arrival), "Hey baby, it's-a quarter-to-eight, I feel I'm In The Mood..." rather comical to listen to now.
My first experience with Rush in concert was not a terribly good one, though. They played Kemper Arena for two nights, April 23-24, 1981 on the Moving Pictures tour. We had tickets (10 bucks a pop!) for the second night, and all day long at school on the 24th, people who attended the first night were just raving about what a kick-ass show they saw, so I looked forward to something special, but the show we witnessed turned out to be a huge disappointment. First off, it wasn't very loud, and Geddy Lee hardly said two words to the audience between songs all night other than "Thank you" (a BIG pet peeve of mine at any concert). The band seemed to be going through the motions at times and the show left me really flat. About ten years ago, I attended a much better Rush show at Sandblown Amphitheater with my sister, and they redeemed themselves mightily in my eyes. I also highly recommend their DVD release R30 which features a 2004 concert from Germany that was quite good, plus the animated video featuring the Rush bobbleheads that they used during the concert's intermission is a total hoot. The DVD set also includes some vintage concert footage and interviews.
One thing I've always marveled at is how Geddy Lee multi-tasks during concerts. First off, he's the greatest living bass player on the planet (second only to the late John Entwistle in my book), and he also doubles on his phalanx of keyboards and bass pedals and such, all the while singing some fairly complex lyrics—something a little more complicated and thought-provoking than "I was born in a small town/And I live in a small town/Gonna die in a small town...". Neil Peart is also a treat to watch hammering away on his gi-normous drum set—the damn thing needs its own ZIP code! It's also been nice to see him rebound from the horrible double-whammy tragedy of losing his only daughter in a car accident and his first wife to breast cancer within less than a year of each other in 1997-98.
Another thing I always found refreshing about Rush is that they didn't exhibit your stereotypical Rock star behavior, and seemed like the kind of guys you'd love to just sit down and have a few beers with and talk about life and such. Although guitarist Alex Lifeson's New Year's Eve drunken fisticuffs incident involving his son jamming (or trying to) with a house band at a Florida hotel a few years back did somewhat "shatter the illusion of integrity", they all still seem like really cool guys.
Getting back to the music, I've always been ironically partial to Rush's synthesizer period that lasted from Moving Pictures through 1987's Hold Your Fire, where the synths were more prominently featured on their records than the guitars. I say ironic because I'm normally not all that big a fan of synthesizers, but when used in moderation, they can actually benefit a good band. Power Windows from 1985 is my personal favorite Rush album of all-time, and 1984's Grace Under Pressure has also grown on me big-time over the years. Roll The Bones and Counterparts from the early '90s aren't too shabby, either, as the band re-emphasized Lifeson's heavier guitar work. And irony of all ironies, Rush fell prey in 2004 to the current trend of bands doing full albums of cover songs—this coming from a band who up to that point had released nothing but all-original material, apart from "borrowing" the riff from Cheech & Chong's "Earache My Eye" at the tail end of the live version of "Big Money" on A Show of Hands. At least Rush has the good taste to do a couple Who covers ("Summertime Blues" and "The Seeker") as well as The Yardbirds' "Shapes of Things".
A little trivia for you: Geddy's Lee's given name is Gary Lee Weinrib, and his parents were Nazi concentration camp survivors in WWII. His grandmother had a thick Hungarian accent and whenever she said his first name, it sounded like "Geddy", so it stuck.
Good day, eh?—My All-Time Rush Top 10:
10) "The Enemy Within" (1984) Totally overlooked song that sounds very '80s, and that's not always a such bad thing...
9) "Red Barchetta" (1981) Car songs always rule, and this one features some very Who-like power chords in it during the "wind in my hair/shifting and drifting" section.
8) "Xanadu" (1977) A little longer than I'd normally like, but very sonic at times, and it holds one's attention throughout.
7) "Countdown" (1982) Very cool account of a space shuttle launch, complete with actual NASA transmissions that Rush was very privileged to use—the space agency doesn't loan them out to just anybody.
6) "Working Man" (1974) Far and away the best Rush song from that first album prior to Neil Peart's arrival. And who among us doesn't like to "take a sip of an ice cold beer" after a long hard day?
5) "Face Up" (1991) Cool song that gave me a little dose of inspiration during a down period in my life to get my shit together and lose some weight with the line "Still time to turn this game around..." Guess I should listen to it more often, eh?
4) "2112" ["Overture/Temples Of Syrinx"] (1976) The tune that really put Rush on the map, radio-wise.
3) "Turn The Page" (1987) Song that more or less marked the end of the synthesizer era for Rush, but very cool stuff. Interesting use of overlapping vocals from Sir Geddy here.
2) "Subdivisions" (1982) Includes one of the three greatest synthesizer solos of all-time here, right up there with the one at the end of the Sniff 'N' The Tears underrated 1979 classic "Driver's Seat" and Del Shannon's "Runaway".
1) "Marathon" (1985) Awesome headphone song that I nearly wore out the cassette I had of on my Walkman. One of Geddy's best vocal performances ever, too.
First of an occasional series on major FUBARs in music history…
I stumbled across Gimme Shelter on the tube last night and watched it for like the 85th time. It’s the documentary film about the infamous 1969 Rolling Stones Altamont concert debacle, and I came away with the same thought I always have when I watch that movie—what the fuck were the Stones thinking?!? Sure, it was a nice gesture on their part to try to stage a free concert, but the band was very naïve to think that it would be like "Woodstock West" or "Monterey Pop, The Sequel". First off, Woodstock wasn’t as peachy as people make it out to be—the organizers there really pushed their luck and were damn lucky it didn’t turn into an epic catastrophe, and The Stones were just about as lucky that Altamont didn’t turn out worse than it actually was.
The show was destined to be a disaster from the start because they kept changing the location for it. Two or three different sites were considered, including Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, but the concert got moved around for various reasons, and at the last minute one Dick Carter offered up his Altamont Speedway, located about 40 miles east of the Bay Area, in exchange for the free publicity, although I have no idea what the hell for—the speedway was dormant, and NASCAR wasn't a terribly big sensation at the time. Anyway, with less than 48 hours’ notice, the show was moved to a hill outside this racetrack with totally inadequate toilet and electrical facilities, not to mention inadequate accessibility by car for 100,000 people, and it appeared to be every bit the clusterfuck to get to that Woodstock was.
Okay, I have a couple questions. First off, why would you schedule on outdoor concert in Northern California in December?!? The Bay Area is frigid enough in summertime—why in blue blazes would you do an outdoor show during the holiday season? Seems to me that L.A. or sunny San Diego might’ve been a tad more comfy for this one. Secondly, how fucking dumb do you gotta be to hire the Hell’s Angels to provide "security"? Ever hear of that "inmates running the asylum" analogy? Good rule of thumb: Avoid hiring anyone who wants to be paid in beer, but if you do so, do not pay them until after they’ve done the job, not while they're doing it!!!
The concert was just a total disaster, of course. The sound system was totally inadequate for the size of the crowd, and food, water and toilets were an afterthought. Patience became just as scarce as the food, water and toilets not long after the show began, and fights broke out all over, many of them involving the "security people." In addition to the Stones, the bill included Santana, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, the Flying Burrito Brothers and Jefferson Airplane, but only the latter two acts (plus the Stones) are shown during the film. The Grateful Dead was also scheduled to play between JA and the Stones on the bill, but when Jerry Garcia got word of the fisticuffs between the Airplane’s Marty Balin and the "security people" (see film) and the nasty vibe of the whole thing in general, the Dead high-tailed it outta there. Oh, did I mention that drugs played a part in all this? Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?
Just to make things worse, the Stones’ set was delayed because bassist Bill Wyman was unable to get to the venue in a timely manner, thus, it was dark and even colder by the time Mick and the boys hit the stage, and the already-agitated crowd and "security people" were downright rabid. As documented in the film, the Stones’ set was marred with constant interruptions caused by fights breaking out right and left in front of the stage. Jagger tried to quell the violence by pleading with the crowd to chill out, but it did little good. The girl right at the edge of the stage staring at Mick with tears in her eyes pretty much reflected the ugliness that went on that night, culminating in the stabbing death (caught on camera) of 18-year-old Meredith Hunter at the hands of one of the "security people". A tragedy, to be sure, but it wasn’t totally unjustified, either. Hunter brandished a handgun—not a particularly bright move for a black guy dressed like a leprechaun pimp 
in the middle of a huge crowd of predominately white people. Still, I think Hunter could’ve been properly subdued with a proper security force instead of a flotilla of drunken redneck bikers. The film also didn’t mention that there were three other deaths at Altamont—two people were run over by a car, and another person drowned in a nearby drainage ditch (probably that bozo who kept crowd-surfing during the Burrito Brothers' set). Just an ugly, ugly event, as well as a black eye for Rock ‘N’ Roll—so much for all that tree-hugging hippie utopia crap, eh?
Still, the Altamont concert seemed strangely appropriate as more or less the closing chapter of such a turbulent and violent decade.
I BEG YOUR PARDON...
...and go fuck your Rose Garden, Mr. Bush! Let's review here: Scooter Libby was convicted by a jury of betraying his country, big-time (treason charges, anyone?), yet with the stroke of a pen, Dubya lets him off the hook. All I gotta say is "Buck Fush!" Need I say more?
JIMMY WALKER, 1944-2007
Sad news in the sports world with the death of former NBA player Jimmy Walker (no, NOT the arsehole from "Good Times"), who lost his battle with lung cancer last night. J. Walker was one of my favorite players in the early years of the Kansas City and/or Omaha Kings back in the '70s, and prior to his arrival here, he was the #1 overall draft pick in 1967 out of Providence, and an All-Star in 1970 and 1972 with Detroit. I wasn't even aware until today that he is also the father of current NBA star Jalen Rose. R.I.P., JW...
HOMER "BOOTS" RANDOLPH, 1927-2007
Who, you say? Well, if you're a fan of "The Benny Hill Show", you know of this man's work. He was a saxophone player who scored with a major hit in 1963 called "Yakety Sax", which became even more famous as the theme music for the "lad himself"'s show in the '70s and '80s. He was also a session musician and played on Elvis Presley's "Return To Sender", among others. Mr. Randolph died of subdural hematoma today. R.I.P., Boots...
BARELY BONDS
Lots of hubbub this week about Barry Bonds making the National League All-Star team as a starter, following a mysterious last-minute surge in the voting that would put the Diebold people who manipulated the 2000 Presidential election to shame. That don't confront me (as long as I get my money next Friday), seeing's how Bonds is actually having a decent season, and there's no one else on the San Francisco roster worth putting on the All-Star team, anyway (as per the Major League mandate of each team being represented by at least one player).
Bonds also hit career HR #751 tonight, putting him just four shy of tying Hank Aaron (thus putting ESPN in a tizzy once again), but I couldn't care less, really. I was nine years old when Hammerin' Hank was chasing Babe Ruth for #715, and I remember how exciting it was to watch him break the record live on TV on April 8, 1974, but when (or if) Bonds gets #756, I'm not sure how I will react. Maybe I'll yawn, fart or scratch my balls—honestly, I haven't decided, yet—but I'm pretty nonplussed about it at this point. And it's not a racial thing—Hank Aaron is black, and I want him to KEEP the record that I rooted for him to attain 33 years ago. It's not even about the steroids thing, really—who are we kidding? Bonds isn't the only one who's used this shit. No, I think my indifference might have something to do with Barry Bonds being a total fucking prick! He's such an arrogant douche that it's damn near impossible for me to root for him to do anything but fall on his ass...
The good news is that the Giants are in last place and bound to stay that way, thus meaning there should be a ticket or two available during the final week of the regular season at AT&T Park (or whatever it's called this week) when yours truly invades the Bay Area for the first time in the history of the world...
HAPPY TRAILS TO THE "HUMAN RAIN DELAY"...
Most intriguing maneuver by Seattle Mariners manager Mike Hargrove, who resigned on Sunday during an 8-game winning streak. Now, that's what I call quitting while you're ahead! Just as well—the M's got hammered by two touchdowns at the hands of the lowly Royals tonight, 17-3...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #38
"(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone"—PAUL REVERE & THE RAIDERS (1966) "You've been awful careful 'bout the friends you choose/But you won't find my name in your book of Who's Who, I said..." To my three-year-old ears, it sounded like "You won't find my name in your boogaloo's who's this?" Yes, I know The Monkees had the big hit with this song (written by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart), but PR&TR recorded it first, and their version is far superior—it's punchier, Mark Lindsay's vocals are grittier than Mickey Dolenz' wimpy rendition, and the Raiders were a real band to begin with—end of discussion!!
MY NAME IS SUE...HOW DO YOU DO?!?
After checking out my newly-acquired Johnny Cash CD box set, I was a taken aback a tad by the true meaning of a song called "The One On The Right Was On The Left". My brother Earnie used to have an 8-track tape with that song on it when I was a kid, and back then I thought the song was some sort of musical chairs thing—little did my eight-year-old mind realize that this song was actually a precursor to the current conservative vs. liberal conflict! Talk about your childhood delusions. Still and all, the Man In Black rules...
WHAT I COULD BE DOING RIGHT NOW...
If I'd been properly motivated, I could have driven 30 miles tonight (one-way) out to what used to be called Sandstone Amphitheater to watch three (count 'em), three has-been bands in concert—Def Leppard and (what's left of) Styx and Foreigner. Somehow, I couldn't get properly motivated...
My friend Tom and I caught all three bands in happier times when it was real. We saw Def Lep on their first U.S. tour in 1980 at Kemper Arena, opening for Fred Nugent and Scorpions. Great show, as I recall, but over the years I've come to realize the limitations of Joe Elliot's voice—he sounds like some 15-year-old kid trying to sound cool in an amateur garage band at times. We also loved Foreigner in the rain at Arrowhead in 1982, but I'm so sorry—Mick Jones alone today is not a big draw—at least give me Lou Gramm on the vocals instead of some nobody posing as Brother Lou. Meantime, Styx drops by here every five months or so anyway (along with REO Speedwagon every other time, it seems), and minus Dennis DeYoung, there's something missing, so I'll just reflect back on the night of March 16, 1981 when (thanks to a nasty stomach virus) I was as sick as a child pornographer at Kemper Arena when Styx hit town on the Paradise Theater tour, and they still managed to blow me (and Tom) away, anyhow. Even that silly Kilroy thing in '83 was mildly amusing from the top row of Kemper (whilst watching some doofus to our left puking his guts out all over his newly-bought Styx t-shirt), but I can really do without this current nostalgia act crappola...
I'd rather fondly remember the above concerts instead of driving 60 miles round trip for some half-assed re-hash, thank you...
"Pride (In The Name of Love)"--U2 (1984) "Early morning, April 4—shot rings out in the Memphis sky..." Mea culpa on my part—I'm surprised no one caught my brain fart on my Travelblog, Pt. 2 entry last month regarding the Lorraine Motel where I subtitled it "Sunday morning, April 4." Come on, where were all you Youse2 fans out there?!?
Hey, I'm willing to admit a mistake now and then, and there are two goofs in regards to this, one being mine and the other being Bono's. I don't know where I got Sunday from—confusing it with "Sunday, Bloody Sunday", perhaps?—and on top of that, April 4, 1968 was a Thursday. Bono gets a few points off his American History grade, and the lyric should have gone "early evening, April 4" because Martin Luther King was shot a 6:01PM and died about an hour later—I wonder if anyone's ever pointed out this error to young Mr. Hewson. Anyway, I caught this FUBAR last night while reading my Soulsville, U.S.A. book on the history of Stax Records (which was subsequently impacted by King's death in numerous ways).
I stand corrected, even if that Bono dude doesn't...
I normally don’t root for another person to die, nor is it usually my nature to revel in someone having cancer, but I make an exception when it comes to human feces like Tammy Faye Bakker Messner (or whatever her fucking name is now). She appeared on "Larry King Live" last night for the eleventy-millionth time, this time with the caption "Tammy Faye Gravely Ill". The interview apparently was TF’s idea and not Larry’s, and if you truly want to see death warmed over, check it out, but be forewarned--she ain't a pretty sight (not that she ever was to begin with). Looking like an elderly drag queen, TFBM bore a rather eerie resemblance to late ventriloquist Wayland Flowers’ former partner
depicted here, and her voice sounded like that of a lifetime two-pack-a-day smoker during this waste of perfectly good CNN airtime. Leave it to this shameless self-promoter to exploit even her own inevitable demise and seize the opportunity to have one last pity party on Larry’s show for all her adoring fans. Coincidentally, The Kansas City Star also published a little blurb yesterday about Tammy Faye becoming "Kansas City’s newest resident celebrity", having recently moved to one of our Ritzier southern suburbs. Do they really think we give a rat’s gonad?!? It’s all academic anyway—it don’t appear she’ll be a KC resident very long, given that she has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.
[Click pic to enlarge it] I swear, this Derf guy channels my mind sometimes! By the way, a tip for all you potential car thieves out there: I highly suggest you pay a visit to Raytown, MO sometime and just hang out in front of any convenience store for any length of time—you’re bound to hit paydirt here. I always lock my car up even to just stop in for beer or whatever, but I constantly see these fools pull up to QuikTrip, et al, and enter the store with their motor still running, windows wide open and stereo blaring. The damn car might as well have a neon sign attached to it that flashes "MY OWNER'S AN IDIOT—STEAL ME, PLEASE!" It just astounds me how careless some people are with their vehicles.
