FOUR DEAD IN O-HI-O, 4-0
I’m really surprised there’s been little-to-no mention in the media this week about Tuesday being the 40th anniversary of the Kent State tragedy. Screw Watergate—I think Kent State was Nixon’s biggest blunder, and to this day, I don’t get why this thing had to happen, all because The Big Dick’s ego was bruised by a bunch of college kids who were fed up with an ignorant war. To their credit, at least Kent State doesn’t try to sweep it under the rug and act as if nothing happened. In the parking lot where the shootings took place, they’ve cordoned off the four exact spots where each student was gunned down, and there’s also a small monument nearby. It’s well worth the visit if you’re ever up in that area.
MORE (LAST) WORDS FROM GEORGE
I highlighted some passages from George Carlin’s “sorta-biography” book Last Words that really resonated with me that I want to share. I should point out that I don’t subscribe to Carlin’s attitudes here just because George wrote them. He and I seemed to share the same position on a lot of issues, and he often reinforced my original opinion in the first place. In other words, I don't merely let a comedian (not even a brilliant/legendary one) form my religious or political beliefs. It's just that George could express my feelings better than I sometimes can, his “World’s Greatest Bullshit Story” bit being a prime example. Anyway, here are some more profound quotes from Sir George:
On the never-ending liberal vs. conservative conundrum:
“I felt discomfort at having received positions on issues, simply because of my preference for the left of center, for people’s rights over property rights. I was beginning to find that a lot of my positions clashed. The habits of liberals, their automatic language, their knee-jerk responses to certain issues, deserved the epithets the right wing stuck them with. I’d see how true they often were. Here they were, banding together in packs, so that I could predict what they were going to say about some event or conflict and it wasn’t even out of their mouths yet. I was very uncomfortable with that. Liberal orthodoxy was as repugnant to me as conservative orthodoxy.”
This is the line I currently find myself treading, hence why I consider myself to be a “radical moderate”. Though I’m still left-leaning, more often than not anymore, I think both sides are full of shit…
On group mentality:
“The worst thing about groups are their values. Traditional values, American values, family values, shared values, OUR values. Just Code for white, middle-class prejudices and discrimination, justification for greed and hatred.”
“Bullshit is the glue of our society.”
On the subject of children, which came up at a celebrity panel discussion gathering on HBO:
“I’m letting it go whenever it’s CHILDREN this and CHILDREN that. Now it’s the Internet and THE CHILDREN and we can’t protect THE CHILDREN and porn and THE CHILDREN. This goes on and on and even Chevy (Chase), when he’s not doing structural damage to the building, is being self-important and pretentious about THE CHILDREN. They finally call on me and I say: 'There’s TOO MUCH ATTENTION TO CHILDREN in this country! Leave them ALONE! They’re gonna BE ALL RIGHT! They’re SMARTER THAN YOU ARE!'”
Amen to that!
“I must say, like most adults, I find kids fascinating one-on-one. Just watching them drool or look at you funny. Or even saying something bright. But as a class—far too much attention.”
On global warming/Saving the planet:
“The problem was caused long ago by us arrogantly trying to control nature, believing we were superior to our environment. Just as arrogant to think we’ve needed to save it—especially when we haven’t even learned how to take care of one another. Earth doesn’t need us to save it. It’s survived four and an half billion years through far worse disasters than a species a mere hundred thousand years old that has only been really fucking the place up since the Industrial Revolution. We imagine we threaten this vastly powerful self-correcting system? The planet will shuck us off like a case of the crabs. Forget about saving endangered species—WE are the endangered species.”
I wish George could’ve lived a bit longer to skewer this whole “going green” bullshit. Makes me want to burn a stack of tires in my back yard in his honor!
Overall, Last Words is a wonderful book and a great read, apart from a section at the end when George got a little psychobabbly about his relationship with the audience and his views on his art and his craft. Like I mentioned last time, it seems like he’s still alive in so many ways, but it’s depressing to realize there won’t be any more brilliant witticisms and diatribes coming from Carlin. I guess John Lennon was right: “And so, dear friends, I guess you’ll just have to carry on…” Thanks again for all the laughs, George…
TIME IS RUNNING OUT
Get a load of who Time magazine considers to be some of the 100 Most Influential People In The World, in their latest issue. Oh, there’s the usual suspects like Pres. Obama, Sarah Palin, Oprah, et al, but then you have such icons as Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Sandra Bullock, Neil Patrick Harris and Bill Mickelson. WTF?!? Let’s see, that’s an off-key Country singer, an off-kilter Pop singer, an overrated actress, a gay actor and a golfer, in that order. Influential, my ass! Oh, and they have Bill Clinton categorized in the “Heroes” section being praised by Bono, and Ted Nugent’s little lovefest on Palin contains enough bullshit to fertilize my entire back yard. I still can’t believe I used to idolize that man.
Speaking of Sarah Palin, as much as I loathe what she stands for and what a limelight whore she’s become, I do have to admit she’s a very attractive woman. One of the better photos I’ve seen of her graces the back cover of the Time issue. No bike shorts this time—just a very classy skirt suit. One question, though—since when did conservative women start wearing 5-inch heels? Does Nordstrom’s of Alaska have a fetish-wear department now?
IT’S A GAS GAS GAS…
I love all these people (including some of my own co-workers) who are suddenly against off-shore oil drilling in the wake of the oil spill FUBAR in the Gulf of Mexico. These same bleeding-hearted saps are the first ones to bitch and moan when gas prices spiral out of control, then they start whining about the U.S. being far too dependent on foreign oil and that we should endeavor to find our own stash. Can’t have it both ways, folks. And who could have forseen this accident occurring anyway? Damn crybabies…
VERY LAX
Newspaper and especially Internet editors are fast becoming extremely lazy these days by substituting ‘lax’ in place of the word ‘lacrosse’. I’m growing tired of seeing ‘lax’ in the headlines about this U. of Virginia lacrosse player who was brutally murdered. Whenever I see ‘lax’, I automatically think of a big airport in Californy, not what G. Carlin once deemed to be a "faggot college activity." Try spelling the whole word out, guys…
CALL NOAH AND TELL HIM TO STAND BY…
It’s a drag to watch what’s happening down Nashville way with the flooding there. I was shocked to see photos of the riverfront area that I walked around in a couple years ago next to the Cumberland River totally underwater. I also read where the Country Music Hall of Fame had water in its basement, as did the Predators' hockey arena. The field at the Titans stadium was also under water at one point and the Grand Ole Opry house out in the burbs had flood issues too. Fortunately, the historic Ryman Auditorium sits on a hill and seems to be out of danger—unless this flood does reach biblical proportions. Hope for everyone’s sake down there that things dry out soon…
“OFF THE RAILS” IS AN UNDERSTATMENT
Just finished reading Off The Rails: Aboard The Crazy Train In The Blizzard Of Ozz by journeyman bassist Rudy Sarzo, and it’s an excellent read. Rudy chronicles his brief, yet tumultuous stint in Ozzy Osbourne’s band during 1981-82 which of course, coincided with the totally senseless tragic plane crash that killed guitarist Randy Rhoads. Actually, Sarzo himself contributed very little to the tumult—he and Rhoads and drummer Tommy Aldridge were good soldiers and kept their noses clean for the most part—and naturally it was those tempestuous Osbournes (Ozzy & Sharon) who kept everyone on edge as the "Blizzard Of Ozz" and "Diary Of A Madman" tours slogged their way across North America and Europe.
The more I learn about Ozzy and Sharon, the less I like them, especially Sharon. In spite of the lovey-dovey public persona she puts up, Sharon Osbourne strikes me as a rather vile individual, not unlike her late hard-ass father, Don Arden, who managed Black Sabbath and others with an iron fist. Although Sarzo paints SO in a fairly positive light in his book, I’ve heard on more than one occasion that she is not well-liked in music business circles and can be very petty and spiteful when someone crosses her—no wonder Jack and Kelly are so fucked-up! As for Ozzy, I find it truly astounding that this man is still alive (let alone even halfway functional now) considering how much he alcohol he consumed and how much cocaine he snorted—Ozzy made Jim Morrison and Hank Williams, Jr. look like a teetotalers in comparison during the early ‘80s. He also had this bizarre preoccupation with urinating and/or defecating in public places, hotel ice machines, people’s shoes, etc., which subsequently led to his infamous arrest for taking a whiz on the Alamo in San Antonio in ‘82. Still and all, Ozzy has defied all odds and can look back on a very successful solo career, what precious little he can remember of it, anyway…
Rudy also detailed his friendship with Randy Rhoads and what a dedicated musician RR was. Even before the plane crash, Randy’s days with Ozzy’s band were probably numbered anyway, as he became frustrated with how overly-theatrical the concerts had gotten, and he longed to learn more about classical guitar. Pretty impressive—as good a guitarist as this guy was, he wasn’t one to rest on his laurels and wanted to keep growing as a musician. Rhoads also chafed a bit at having to perform Osbourne’s Sabbath classics “Iron Man”, “Children Of The Grave” and “Paranoid”, preferring to focus on the material he’d written with Ozzy on their first two albums. Contrary to what I’ve previously written about 1982's Speak Of The Devil album, it seems that a full live Ozzy album comprised of Black Sabbath tunes was already in the works before the plane crash, as opposed to being an inspired idea to avoid appearing to capitalize on Randy’s death, as I’d always assumed. RR initially balked at the notion of doing an entire album’s worth of Sabbath songs, and it didn’t matter, anyway, as Brad Gillis of Night Ranger wound up doing the honors six months after the tragedy, but it still would’ve been fun to hear Randy’s own takes on those songs. His soloing on “Children Of The Grave” on the Tribute CD blows away all other live versions I’ve heard, including Tony Iommi’s. I’ve said it here before—one wonders what else this little dude would’ve gone on to accomplish in his career had he lived. My hunch is he’d have outgrown Ozzy and moved on to a solo career with a backing band à la Ted Nugent, Stevie Ray Vaughan or Santana.
I was hoping Mr. Sarzo would also discuss his days with Quiet Riot and Whitesnake in Off The Rails, but I’m guessing he’s saving that for another book. I would especially love to hear about the ups and downs with singer Kevin DuBrow and his over-inflated ego. The 1984 MTV interview with QR where a clearly-embarrassed Sarzo silently does a slow burn while DuBrow mugs for the camera (about midway through this clip) is just priceless, and Rudy left the band not long afterward. I would also enjoy reading about Sarzo’s days with Whitesnake (especially about what an arrogant prick singer David Coverdale was/is), as well as his time with Dio (shades of irony—Sarzo played for both Ozzy and Dio) and more recently, Blue Oyster Cult. Anyway, damn good book, Rudy!
HOLY TRIVIA, BATMAN!
I am now partway through actor Adam West’s biography Back To The Batcave, and in it, the mayor of Quahog revealed that he won the role of the Caped Crusader over future “Carol Burnett Show” regular Lyle Waggoner and even more surprisingly, actor Mike Henry. MH is better known as Junior in the Smokey & The Bandit flicks. Henry was also a tight end with the L.A. Rams in the early ‘60s, and later played the second Donald Penobscott on “MASH”. Impress your friends with those trivial morsels, if you like…
“JUST LEAVE YOUR NAME AND NUMBER AT THE BEEP…”
Don’t go away, it’s time to play my new-fangled “Rockford Files” Drinking Game! I’ve recently gotten into wacthing the mid-‘70s crime drama starring James Garner on DVD and in spite of its inherent predictability, I enjoy it anyway. So, if you want to have a little fun, grab a copy of a season’s worth of “Rockford” on DVD, line up your favorite alcoholic beverage and play along.
Simply take one drink whenever:
—Jim recites his famous fee, “$200 a day, plus expenses”
—Jim gets arrested for anything, regardless of the charge or whether he’s guilty of it or not
—Jim’s old man (Rocky) does something inept to foil Jim’s brilliant scheme
—Jim’s stoolie friend Angel does something even more inept than Rocky to foil said scheme
—Jim comes home to his trailer only to find a perp inside pointing a gun at him
—Jim is awoken in the middle of the night by a phone call or a knock at his door
—One of Jim’s fellow inmates from his San Quentin days shows up at his doorstep
—Rocky chastises Jim for choosing such a dangerous line of work
—Jim unexpectedly gets whisked away in a car at gunpoint by a group of thugs
—Jim’s girlfriend of the week gets bumped-off by the bad guys
—Rocky, Angel or Jim’s lawyer gal (or any combo of the three) are held hostage by the baddies
—Rockford goes under the alias "Jim Taggart"
—Jim gets beaten up
—Jim pisses off his police detective buddy Dennis Becker/puts him in a bind over something
—Jim inflicts damage on his Pontiac Firebird (or Rocky’s GMC pick-up)
If played properly, you should be pretty well sloshed after about three episodes!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Happy Frehley Day!
Brother Ace turns 59 today. Ack! Ack!
LAST(ING) WORDS FROM GEORGE
I’m currently enjoying Last Words, the late George Carlin’s “sorta-biography”, as he dubbed it. It was co-written with comedian Tony Hendra, a Brit and one-time friendly rival of Carlin’s who initially worked with the late Graham Chapman of Monty Python, and who later became an editor at National Lampoon. This book had been in the works for well over 20 years before George passed away in 2008, but got derailed several times by movie projects, health issues and GC’s ill-advised foray into network TV in the early ‘90s, among others things, but it was totally worth the wait. It’s written in first person, and as I read along, it feels almost as if George is still with us and is talking directly to me. Through his hilarious recollections of his grade school and teen years on his classic ‘70s albums Class Clown and Occupation: Foole, I already kinda felt like I knew George personally, and Last Words does a nice job fleshing out those stories even more, as well giving background about where many of his classic routines and characters originated. And even though I’ve heard this guy’s comedy bits a thousand times and can practically recite those ‘70s albums word-for-word, his old stuff to this day STILL makes me laugh whenever I read or hear it again. One that never fails to elicit a belly laugh out of me is when he imitates a black dude giving him shit about the fact he has no ass: “Say, baby, where your ass at?!? My man ain’t got no ass!! Shit, how do you them pants up, man?” And another where GC discusses the work ‘fuck’: “It’s kind of a proud word, too. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I am FUCK! FUCK of the Mountains!’ ‘Tune in again next week to Fuck Of the Mountains!” And, yes, for better or worse, I learned profanity from listening to my older sister’s Carlin records when I was 8 or 9 years old…thanks, George!
Getting back to the book, I also like how Carlin doesn’t sugarcoat his fuck-ups, particularly his out-of-control drug use in the ‘70s. He was/is his own worst critic, and this book seems to be a pretty honest account of his life. And there’s one passage that touched a personal nerve with me where talked about his early years working in Greenwich Village in the mid-‘60s how that while he was on friendly terms with his peer group of other comedians and performers, he more or less kept everyone at arm’s length from him, and didn’t get close to anyone, even though he wanted to. He wrote, “Later I came to realize the curiousness of choosing to be, and feeling, apart from people and at the same time dying to be accepted, longing to be accepted, to be asked in. But on my terms.” This pretty much sums up my own social life and limited social circle. There’s a bit of George in me, and perhaps I need to re-think my own approach to friendships and relationships…
I know I’ve told this story before on the blog, but I met George Carlin after his 1987 Midland Theater concert here in K.C. and got his autograph. As we were leaving the theater, my friend Tom and I saw this crowd gathered outside the “Stage Door” with a stretch limo parked out front waiting for George. We both figured it was a ruse and he’d already left in a bread truck or something, but just for shits and hoots, we hung around a bit anyway. Sure enough, not five minutes later, the man himself emerged, and Tom and I scurried back across 13th Street and queued up with the flotilla of fans who had assembled. GC was very friendly and accommodating to everyone and he was wearing a Z.Z. Top ball cap. When he signed my souvenir program, I said, “Hey, a fellow Z.Z. Top fan!” and George replied, “Yeah—I noticed you two skulking across the street there...” Every time I hear the word ‘skulking’, it makes me think of George Carlin…
Carlin became a disc jockey right after he left the Air Force, and the first station he worked at was KJOE in Shreveport, LA. What a coincidence—yours truly was once a DJ at a station called “K-Jo” (“K-Jo 105”, officially) in St. Joseph, MO! It would’ve been fun to be able to tell him about the KJOE/K-Joe coincidence when we met him, but at that time, I wasn’t aware of his KJOE thing, and my K-Jo thing was still in the future. Anyway, if there actually is a hereafter, I hope I get to hook up with George and have a drink or two and shoot the shit. And after being horrified at the total cost the funeral home laid out on our family to bury my Dad last month, I’m seriously contemplating doing Carlin’s 1977 bit about death: “When I die I don’t want to go through that funeral shit…and I don’t want to be cremated either—I wanna be BLOWN UP! BOOM! ‘There he goes!! God love ‘im…;” Even with all the pyrotechnics, this method would surely be a helluva lot cheaper. Ironically, George apparently had a change of heart and wound up being cremated…
AND IN BEST CARLIN TRADITION…
Add another entry to my ever-growing list of “People I Could Do Without”: These immature twits who don’t pronounce the second ‘d’ in the word ‘didn’t’. As in, “Oh, no you DIH-int!” They sound like damn 5th graders! Same goes for these dolts who “axe” me when my “burfday” is…
BACKWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS?
[WARNING: Religious commentary ahead. You know the drill—if you’re easily offended by it, then skip the next three paragraphs in blue.]
A new “group” that’s all the rage on Facebook lately is one where some supposed “Christian” appeals to God in prayer: “Dear Lord, Last year, you took my favorite actor, Patrick Swayze and my favorite actress, Farrah Fawcett, and my favorite singer, Michael Jackson. I just wanted to let you know Barack Obama is my favorite President. Amen.” Yes, I know it’s just meant as a joke, and I also know I shouldn’t take these FB group things all that seriously—hell, I started one myself called “Flo Must Go”, in hopes of eradicating that annoyingly-perky “Flo” spokesperson on the aggressive Progressive insurance TV ads, but I don’t mean any harm by it. Having said all that, however, ain’t it just a bit warped that some “Christian” is calling for the death of someone whom they don’t like and/or disagree with? Last I looked, this group was over 800,000 strong, including one of my best longtime friends (a self-proclaimed Christian, I might add), yet he turns purple whenever I put down his favorite right-wing political people and/or beliefs. What’s up with the double-standard?
And honestly, what has Obama done that’s so terrible since he became President to warrant such vitriol? Certainly nothing remotely as ignorant as anything his predecessor ever did, but I don’t recall any Christians calling for Dubya’s head on a platter. Granted, Obama hasn’t been the most effective President in the world so far, but come on—he’s only been in office a year and three months, and his hands have been effectively tied trying to undo all the damage the Village Idiot inflicted on our nation, so why call for his demise? Ohhh, wait a minute, I keep forgetting—Obama’s a black guy! You can’t tell me there isn’t an element of racism involved here. Fortunately, a counter protest group has surfaced that I joined which is petitioning the powers-that-be on FB to remove the above offending group. Then again, if we just have to play this immature little game, then Sarah Palin is my favorite politician and Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck and Bill O’Reilly are my favorite political commentators, unless of course mean old non-Christians aren’t allowed to play in this reindeer game…
Speaking of double-standards, I don’t get why in our supposedly “tolerant” society/culture, how unassuming free-thinking agnostics like me always seem to be compelled to explain and/or justify our (non-) religious stance, yet Christians, Catholics, Baptists, Muslims, Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, et al, always get a free pass and aren’t expected to elaborate at all on their beliefs. We’re always seen as heretics just because we have our questions and don’t readily buy into what Brother Carlin once deemed “The World’s Biggest Bullshit Story”.
Okay, youse religious offendees can safely read on from here—I guess…
ALL THE RAGE
I had my first real encounter with a road-rager the other day on the way to work. I had just entered I-435 southbound and had to slow down almost immediately because this black BMW was practically stopped ahead of me in the right lane. Turns out he was trying to get around this bozo in a crappy little Toyota pick-up who was on the right shoulder attempting to merge into traffic. The BMW gets around him, then Mr. Toyota nearly cuts me off, and I was just barely able to avoid hitting him as I swerved out the way. He finally pulls out into traffic behind me, then swings way ‘round to the left lanes, passes me, then turns around and flips me off. This goomer was so incensed that I had the affrontery to return fire and flip him the bird right back that he pulls over on the shoulder on the exit ramp to southbound US 71 as I rounded the bend on 435 and was stopped in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He was a good 30-40 yards away from me, but he gets out of truck and starts to approach me like he was spoiling for a fight. Let’s see here—you’re the one who damn near caused an accident, and you’re pissed at ME?!? The douche-bag then thought better of it when he realized he had lots of witnesses so he retreats to his vehicle and grabs a half-empty bottle of Pepsi and hurls in my general direction, not even coming close, all the while with his buddy sitting there in the passenger seat doing nothing. Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to breed. I’ve never expected myself to be involved in something like this, but I’m ready for the next one—I have since placed my tire-iron on the floor board behind the passenger seat, so next time someone wants to fuck with me, I’ve got easy access to a weapon that’ll clean his clock.
WEDDING BELL BLUES
My ex-girlfriend and still dear friend Stacy made an excellent point on Facebook last week, something to the effect of, “Larry King’s about to divorce his 8th wife, Liz Taylor may be marrying for the 9th time, Tiger Woods and Jesse James are out there doinking everything in sight, and yet people are worried about same-sex marriages ruining this sacred institution?” Amen to that! I would also add to that list marriages involving volatile/out-of-control boneheads like Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson, et al. Admittedly, my viewpoint might be a bit skewed because I think marriage is a joke to begin with, and I have no intention of getting married in my lifetime, but I just don’t get these people (especially celebrities) who keep banging their heads against the wall by marrying multiple times. Most celebrity marriages—particularly those where both spouses are already famous to begin with—have just about the same success rate as a quadriplegic eating sushi with chopsticks, so why bother? After about the third failed marriage, I don’t see why they don’t just say “Fuck it” and just live together with future partners. And other than for his money, why would any right-minded woman want to marry an ugly fuck like Larry “Face Made For Radio” King in the first place? As for same-sex unions, I’m all for them—gays can’t possibly do any worse than heterosexual couples.
SCRAP HEEP?
One of my latest library CD acquisitions is an anthology on ‘70s stalwarts Uriah Heep, a band who was slagged mercilessly by the critics back in the day. I already had their ’73 release Sweet Freedom, which contains my favorite (and easily the best) Heep track, “Stealin’", but I had very little of the rest of their stuff. And being’s how I like to root for the underdog, and how I tend to love bands that the critics hate (i.e., Kiss, Grand Funk Railroad, Rush, Styx, et al), I thought I’d give UH another shot. Sadly, I think the critics may have been right this time—Uriah Heep were like a Prog. Rock version of Deep Purple, but there just wasn’t a lot of meat to chew on here. Record companies were amazingly patient with bands back in the ‘70s, because Heep put out like eight studio albums in six years (while most comparable bands today would be one-and-done), but they had very little decent music to show for it. UH put out way too many overblown fantasy epics in the “Harry Potter” vein (some of them 10 or 12 minutes in length), and late singer David Byron’s strident vocals could be rather grating at times. I think if they’d stuck to doing more accessible stuff like “Stealin’” and their 1972 hit “Easy Livin’”, they’d have gone a lot farther. The only real standout in this band was keyboardist Ken Hensley, who wailed away on the organ, sounding rather Jon Lord-like at times. Uriah Heep also went through as many bass players as Spinal Tap did likewise with drummers, and the band’s lineup once featured future Asia bassist/singer John Wetton.
COMING BACK TO THE COMEBACKS
Way too late, I thought of another entry for my Best Comeback Album of All-Time blog piece from about a month ago, 1979’s Low Budget by The Kinks. Their ‘60s heyday had long since passed, and although Ray and Dave Davies put out several albums during the ‘70s, they hadn’t had a hit since “Lola” in 1970, so it was great to hear these guys clicking on all cylinders again. The hilarious title track and “A Gallon Of Gas” could’ve been anthems during our economy’s recent financial woes, and “Catch Me Now I’m Falling”, “Attitude” and “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman” were standout tracks as well. Budget also set the table for a nice Kinks career revival throughout the early ‘80s.
PUT ON A POT OF COFFEE, MARGE!
The 2010 NFL schedule was announced last week, and the league was kind enough to give our poor K.C. Chefs their first Monday Night Football game since 2005 when they get to open at home against those Sandy-Eggo Chargers in Week 1. Just one miniscule problem—the damn game starts at 9:15! It’s the nightcap of the annual opening-week MNF doubleheader (Ravens-Jets is the first game), and I don’t get their logic here at all. This means the game probably won’t end until around 1:00 in the morning here—not exactly a brilliant way to maintain your local viewing audience. It’d make a lot more sense if they pitted two west coast teams instead, like when the Chargers opened at Oakland last season. Did FEMA take over the NFL scheduling department?
FEELING DRAFTY AGAIN
One thing that went right this weekend for El Chiefos was the NFL draft. While ESPN’s (and the NFL Network’s) coverage of the event was its usual exercise in overkill, I was quite pleased with the choices the Chefs made, especially safety Eric Berry out of Tennessee, who may well be the second coming of Hall of Famer Ronnie Lott. With their 2nd pick, they chose running back Dexter McCluster (whose surname I’m going to have great fun with) from Ole Miss, and between him and Jamaal Charles and Thomas Jones, we suddenly have a true backfield again in the wake of the Larry Johnson fiasco. I was hoping the Chefs’ brain trust of GM Scott Pioli and head coach Todd Haley would snag a good left offensive tackle, which they didn’t, but at least they didn’t think with their hearts and take Notre Dame’s Jimmy Clausen at QB, just because Charlie Weis is now our offensive coordinator. Now I can only hope I won’t have to hear Mel Kiper, Jr. yammering away again until next April…
MORE FAMILY FARE
This past Saturday night at 7PM on our local “family-friendly” Ion TV affiliate: Demolition Man with Sly Stallone and Wesley Snipes. Yet another gory violent shoot-em-up for the kiddies to enjoy…
“LONELY MAN CRIES FOR LOVE AND HAS NONE…”
I never dreamed that Moody Blues lyric would ever really apply to me, but my 46th birthday is rapidly approaching and it’s been over ten years since I had a freakin’ date with a woman, let alone made love to one. With no prospects on the horizon, I’m really beginning to wonder if I’ll ever find someone again, and I’m getting really depressed about it. I know I need to get out more—that’s my fault—but still, wouldn’t you think after a decade or so, I would have met SOMEONE of the opposite sex that I clicked with? I’m not even being choosy at this stage, but I haven’t met any available women, period, let alone anyone I’d even be remotely interested in. I desperately want to believe there’s still a single unattached woman or two in my age group (and time zone) left out there who don’t resemble Susan Boyle or Joe Torre in drag, but I can’t help but think my window of opportunity has slammed shut for good. I’m almost to the point of desperation to give serious consideration to the queens on “RuPaul’s Drag Race!” If nothing else, they look more like women than most of the genetic ones I encounter these days…
LAST(ING) WORDS FROM GEORGE
I’m currently enjoying Last Words, the late George Carlin’s “sorta-biography”, as he dubbed it. It was co-written with comedian Tony Hendra, a Brit and one-time friendly rival of Carlin’s who initially worked with the late Graham Chapman of Monty Python, and who later became an editor at National Lampoon. This book had been in the works for well over 20 years before George passed away in 2008, but got derailed several times by movie projects, health issues and GC’s ill-advised foray into network TV in the early ‘90s, among others things, but it was totally worth the wait. It’s written in first person, and as I read along, it feels almost as if George is still with us and is talking directly to me. Through his hilarious recollections of his grade school and teen years on his classic ‘70s albums Class Clown and Occupation: Foole, I already kinda felt like I knew George personally, and Last Words does a nice job fleshing out those stories even more, as well giving background about where many of his classic routines and characters originated. And even though I’ve heard this guy’s comedy bits a thousand times and can practically recite those ‘70s albums word-for-word, his old stuff to this day STILL makes me laugh whenever I read or hear it again. One that never fails to elicit a belly laugh out of me is when he imitates a black dude giving him shit about the fact he has no ass: “Say, baby, where your ass at?!? My man ain’t got no ass!! Shit, how do you them pants up, man?” And another where GC discusses the work ‘fuck’: “It’s kind of a proud word, too. ‘Who are you?’ ‘I am FUCK! FUCK of the Mountains!’ ‘Tune in again next week to Fuck Of the Mountains!” And, yes, for better or worse, I learned profanity from listening to my older sister’s Carlin records when I was 8 or 9 years old…thanks, George!
Getting back to the book, I also like how Carlin doesn’t sugarcoat his fuck-ups, particularly his out-of-control drug use in the ‘70s. He was/is his own worst critic, and this book seems to be a pretty honest account of his life. And there’s one passage that touched a personal nerve with me where talked about his early years working in Greenwich Village in the mid-‘60s how that while he was on friendly terms with his peer group of other comedians and performers, he more or less kept everyone at arm’s length from him, and didn’t get close to anyone, even though he wanted to. He wrote, “Later I came to realize the curiousness of choosing to be, and feeling, apart from people and at the same time dying to be accepted, longing to be accepted, to be asked in. But on my terms.” This pretty much sums up my own social life and limited social circle. There’s a bit of George in me, and perhaps I need to re-think my own approach to friendships and relationships…
I know I’ve told this story before on the blog, but I met George Carlin after his 1987 Midland Theater concert here in K.C. and got his autograph. As we were leaving the theater, my friend Tom and I saw this crowd gathered outside the “Stage Door” with a stretch limo parked out front waiting for George. We both figured it was a ruse and he’d already left in a bread truck or something, but just for shits and hoots, we hung around a bit anyway. Sure enough, not five minutes later, the man himself emerged, and Tom and I scurried back across 13th Street and queued up with the flotilla of fans who had assembled. GC was very friendly and accommodating to everyone and he was wearing a Z.Z. Top ball cap. When he signed my souvenir program, I said, “Hey, a fellow Z.Z. Top fan!” and George replied, “Yeah—I noticed you two skulking across the street there...” Every time I hear the word ‘skulking’, it makes me think of George Carlin…
Carlin became a disc jockey right after he left the Air Force, and the first station he worked at was KJOE in Shreveport, LA. What a coincidence—yours truly was once a DJ at a station called “K-Jo” (“K-Jo 105”, officially) in St. Joseph, MO! It would’ve been fun to be able to tell him about the KJOE/K-Joe coincidence when we met him, but at that time, I wasn’t aware of his KJOE thing, and my K-Jo thing was still in the future. Anyway, if there actually is a hereafter, I hope I get to hook up with George and have a drink or two and shoot the shit. And after being horrified at the total cost the funeral home laid out on our family to bury my Dad last month, I’m seriously contemplating doing Carlin’s 1977 bit about death: “When I die I don’t want to go through that funeral shit…and I don’t want to be cremated either—I wanna be BLOWN UP! BOOM! ‘There he goes!! God love ‘im…;” Even with all the pyrotechnics, this method would surely be a helluva lot cheaper. Ironically, George apparently had a change of heart and wound up being cremated…
AND IN BEST CARLIN TRADITION…
Add another entry to my ever-growing list of “People I Could Do Without”: These immature twits who don’t pronounce the second ‘d’ in the word ‘didn’t’. As in, “Oh, no you DIH-int!” They sound like damn 5th graders! Same goes for these dolts who “axe” me when my “burfday” is…
BACKWARD CHRISTIAN SOLDIERS?
[WARNING: Religious commentary ahead. You know the drill—if you’re easily offended by it, then skip the next three paragraphs in blue.]
A new “group” that’s all the rage on Facebook lately is one where some supposed “Christian” appeals to God in prayer: “Dear Lord, Last year, you took my favorite actor, Patrick Swayze and my favorite actress, Farrah Fawcett, and my favorite singer, Michael Jackson. I just wanted to let you know Barack Obama is my favorite President. Amen.” Yes, I know it’s just meant as a joke, and I also know I shouldn’t take these FB group things all that seriously—hell, I started one myself called “Flo Must Go”, in hopes of eradicating that annoyingly-perky “Flo” spokesperson on the aggressive Progressive insurance TV ads, but I don’t mean any harm by it. Having said all that, however, ain’t it just a bit warped that some “Christian” is calling for the death of someone whom they don’t like and/or disagree with? Last I looked, this group was over 800,000 strong, including one of my best longtime friends (a self-proclaimed Christian, I might add), yet he turns purple whenever I put down his favorite right-wing political people and/or beliefs. What’s up with the double-standard?
And honestly, what has Obama done that’s so terrible since he became President to warrant such vitriol? Certainly nothing remotely as ignorant as anything his predecessor ever did, but I don’t recall any Christians calling for Dubya’s head on a platter. Granted, Obama hasn’t been the most effective President in the world so far, but come on—he’s only been in office a year and three months, and his hands have been effectively tied trying to undo all the damage the Village Idiot inflicted on our nation, so why call for his demise? Ohhh, wait a minute, I keep forgetting—Obama’s a black guy! You can’t tell me there isn’t an element of racism involved here. Fortunately, a counter protest group has surfaced that I joined which is petitioning the powers-that-be on FB to remove the above offending group. Then again, if we just have to play this immature little game, then Sarah Palin is my favorite politician and Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity, Glenn Beck and Bill O’Reilly are my favorite political commentators, unless of course mean old non-Christians aren’t allowed to play in this reindeer game…
Speaking of double-standards, I don’t get why in our supposedly “tolerant” society/culture, how unassuming free-thinking agnostics like me always seem to be compelled to explain and/or justify our (non-) religious stance, yet Christians, Catholics, Baptists, Muslims, Jews, Jehovah’s Witnesses, et al, always get a free pass and aren’t expected to elaborate at all on their beliefs. We’re always seen as heretics just because we have our questions and don’t readily buy into what Brother Carlin once deemed “The World’s Biggest Bullshit Story”.
Okay, youse religious offendees can safely read on from here—I guess…
ALL THE RAGE
I had my first real encounter with a road-rager the other day on the way to work. I had just entered I-435 southbound and had to slow down almost immediately because this black BMW was practically stopped ahead of me in the right lane. Turns out he was trying to get around this bozo in a crappy little Toyota pick-up who was on the right shoulder attempting to merge into traffic. The BMW gets around him, then Mr. Toyota nearly cuts me off, and I was just barely able to avoid hitting him as I swerved out the way. He finally pulls out into traffic behind me, then swings way ‘round to the left lanes, passes me, then turns around and flips me off. This goomer was so incensed that I had the affrontery to return fire and flip him the bird right back that he pulls over on the shoulder on the exit ramp to southbound US 71 as I rounded the bend on 435 and was stopped in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He was a good 30-40 yards away from me, but he gets out of truck and starts to approach me like he was spoiling for a fight. Let’s see here—you’re the one who damn near caused an accident, and you’re pissed at ME?!? The douche-bag then thought better of it when he realized he had lots of witnesses so he retreats to his vehicle and grabs a half-empty bottle of Pepsi and hurls in my general direction, not even coming close, all the while with his buddy sitting there in the passenger seat doing nothing. Some people really shouldn’t be allowed to breed. I’ve never expected myself to be involved in something like this, but I’m ready for the next one—I have since placed my tire-iron on the floor board behind the passenger seat, so next time someone wants to fuck with me, I’ve got easy access to a weapon that’ll clean his clock.
WEDDING BELL BLUES
My ex-girlfriend and still dear friend Stacy made an excellent point on Facebook last week, something to the effect of, “Larry King’s about to divorce his 8th wife, Liz Taylor may be marrying for the 9th time, Tiger Woods and Jesse James are out there doinking everything in sight, and yet people are worried about same-sex marriages ruining this sacred institution?” Amen to that! I would also add to that list marriages involving volatile/out-of-control boneheads like Tommy Lee and Pamela Anderson, et al. Admittedly, my viewpoint might be a bit skewed because I think marriage is a joke to begin with, and I have no intention of getting married in my lifetime, but I just don’t get these people (especially celebrities) who keep banging their heads against the wall by marrying multiple times. Most celebrity marriages—particularly those where both spouses are already famous to begin with—have just about the same success rate as a quadriplegic eating sushi with chopsticks, so why bother? After about the third failed marriage, I don’t see why they don’t just say “Fuck it” and just live together with future partners. And other than for his money, why would any right-minded woman want to marry an ugly fuck like Larry “Face Made For Radio” King in the first place? As for same-sex unions, I’m all for them—gays can’t possibly do any worse than heterosexual couples.
SCRAP HEEP?
One of my latest library CD acquisitions is an anthology on ‘70s stalwarts Uriah Heep, a band who was slagged mercilessly by the critics back in the day. I already had their ’73 release Sweet Freedom, which contains my favorite (and easily the best) Heep track, “Stealin’", but I had very little of the rest of their stuff. And being’s how I like to root for the underdog, and how I tend to love bands that the critics hate (i.e., Kiss, Grand Funk Railroad, Rush, Styx, et al), I thought I’d give UH another shot. Sadly, I think the critics may have been right this time—Uriah Heep were like a Prog. Rock version of Deep Purple, but there just wasn’t a lot of meat to chew on here. Record companies were amazingly patient with bands back in the ‘70s, because Heep put out like eight studio albums in six years (while most comparable bands today would be one-and-done), but they had very little decent music to show for it. UH put out way too many overblown fantasy epics in the “Harry Potter” vein (some of them 10 or 12 minutes in length), and late singer David Byron’s strident vocals could be rather grating at times. I think if they’d stuck to doing more accessible stuff like “Stealin’” and their 1972 hit “Easy Livin’”, they’d have gone a lot farther. The only real standout in this band was keyboardist Ken Hensley, who wailed away on the organ, sounding rather Jon Lord-like at times. Uriah Heep also went through as many bass players as Spinal Tap did likewise with drummers, and the band’s lineup once featured future Asia bassist/singer John Wetton.
COMING BACK TO THE COMEBACKS
Way too late, I thought of another entry for my Best Comeback Album of All-Time blog piece from about a month ago, 1979’s Low Budget by The Kinks. Their ‘60s heyday had long since passed, and although Ray and Dave Davies put out several albums during the ‘70s, they hadn’t had a hit since “Lola” in 1970, so it was great to hear these guys clicking on all cylinders again. The hilarious title track and “A Gallon Of Gas” could’ve been anthems during our economy’s recent financial woes, and “Catch Me Now I’m Falling”, “Attitude” and “(Wish I Could Fly Like) Superman” were standout tracks as well. Budget also set the table for a nice Kinks career revival throughout the early ‘80s.
PUT ON A POT OF COFFEE, MARGE!
The 2010 NFL schedule was announced last week, and the league was kind enough to give our poor K.C. Chefs their first Monday Night Football game since 2005 when they get to open at home against those Sandy-Eggo Chargers in Week 1. Just one miniscule problem—the damn game starts at 9:15! It’s the nightcap of the annual opening-week MNF doubleheader (Ravens-Jets is the first game), and I don’t get their logic here at all. This means the game probably won’t end until around 1:00 in the morning here—not exactly a brilliant way to maintain your local viewing audience. It’d make a lot more sense if they pitted two west coast teams instead, like when the Chargers opened at Oakland last season. Did FEMA take over the NFL scheduling department?
FEELING DRAFTY AGAIN
One thing that went right this weekend for El Chiefos was the NFL draft. While ESPN’s (and the NFL Network’s) coverage of the event was its usual exercise in overkill, I was quite pleased with the choices the Chefs made, especially safety Eric Berry out of Tennessee, who may well be the second coming of Hall of Famer Ronnie Lott. With their 2nd pick, they chose running back Dexter McCluster (whose surname I’m going to have great fun with) from Ole Miss, and between him and Jamaal Charles and Thomas Jones, we suddenly have a true backfield again in the wake of the Larry Johnson fiasco. I was hoping the Chefs’ brain trust of GM Scott Pioli and head coach Todd Haley would snag a good left offensive tackle, which they didn’t, but at least they didn’t think with their hearts and take Notre Dame’s Jimmy Clausen at QB, just because Charlie Weis is now our offensive coordinator. Now I can only hope I won’t have to hear Mel Kiper, Jr. yammering away again until next April…
MORE FAMILY FARE
This past Saturday night at 7PM on our local “family-friendly” Ion TV affiliate: Demolition Man with Sly Stallone and Wesley Snipes. Yet another gory violent shoot-em-up for the kiddies to enjoy…
“LONELY MAN CRIES FOR LOVE AND HAS NONE…”
I never dreamed that Moody Blues lyric would ever really apply to me, but my 46th birthday is rapidly approaching and it’s been over ten years since I had a freakin’ date with a woman, let alone made love to one. With no prospects on the horizon, I’m really beginning to wonder if I’ll ever find someone again, and I’m getting really depressed about it. I know I need to get out more—that’s my fault—but still, wouldn’t you think after a decade or so, I would have met SOMEONE of the opposite sex that I clicked with? I’m not even being choosy at this stage, but I haven’t met any available women, period, let alone anyone I’d even be remotely interested in. I desperately want to believe there’s still a single unattached woman or two in my age group (and time zone) left out there who don’t resemble Susan Boyle or Joe Torre in drag, but I can’t help but think my window of opportunity has slammed shut for good. I’m almost to the point of desperation to give serious consideration to the queens on “RuPaul’s Drag Race!” If nothing else, they look more like women than most of the genetic ones I encounter these days…
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Alright, fellas--let's bloooooooog!
DAVE IS THE DEVIL!
I noticed too late that my previous Dave Edmunds post on Thursday was #666 for Holland's Comet. Yes, now it can be told—DE is the antichrist...
DIXIE CARTER, 1939-2010
Classy lady from TV's "Designing Women" passed away last weekend at age 70. I never much cared for that show until I started watching it on DVD recently (mostly because I'm partial to redhead Annie Potts, not to mention Jean Smart's gorgeous legs!), but I've found it mildly entertaining if for no other reason because it's nice to see women dressing like women, unlike in today's all-too-casual society. I do like Carter's character, Julia Sugarbaker, in spite of how she often got a little pompous and preachy at times, to the point where I can kinda sorta see where conservative people are coming from when they refer to that "liberal Hollywood agenda." Oddly enough, Dixie was a registered Republican in real life, and took issue with Julia's issues. At least Julia was a lot more tolerable than her insufferable sister Suzanne (played by Delta Burke), who was one of the most annoying characters in TV history, IMHO. All she did was park her fat ass on the sofa and bitch about everything—she certainly didn't contribute much to the business they were trying to run. And the woman had a pet pig, for crissakes! To paraphrase Chandler Bing: "Can you BE any more white trash?"
Anyway, Dixie Carter—not to be confused with the lady wrestler of the same name—married actor Hal Holbrook in 1984, and he had a recurring role on DW as Julia's boyfriend. I also remember her as the brilliantly bitchy boss lady from the short-lived series "On Our Own", starring Bess Armstrong circa. 1976-77. Rest in peace, Dixie—ya done good.
RIGHT ON TARGET, OR SHOULD I SAY, "RIGHT ON, TARGET!"?
A major wrong has been righted in the Twin Cities this week with the opening of Target Field, which replaces the evil Metrodome. That's right, folks, no more Astroturf and no more Hefty bag! The new park should serve the Twins well—it's in a great location on the west side of downtown next door to the Target Center arena (home of the those dreaded T-Wolves), which is adjacent to most of the bars, restaurants and nightclubs in downtown Minneapolis. The place looks great on TV, so I imagine it's even better in person—I hope I can make a weekend road trip this summer. Nice to see the Twinks in their Met Stadium throwback uniforms too, and best of all, they're playing outside again for the first time in 29 years. True, the weather up there in April and early May could be a bit frigid at times, but it's too darn pretty in the Twin Cities in June, July and August to be playing baseball indoors. There was a time about 10-15 years ago when the Twins were routinely being outdrawn by the minor league St. Paul Saints because they played outdoors and the Twins didn't. Too bad Hall of Famer Kirby Puckett, longtime Twins play-by-play man Herb Carneal and legendary PA announcer Bob "No smoking in the Metrodome!" Casey aren't still around to see the new joint...
THEY BLOWED IT UP REAL GOOD!
And strangely enough, with a new stadium opening up this week, an old one was imploded last Sunday as Texas Stadium in Irving (Big Fat Irving), former home of the Dallas Plowboys, bit the dust—literally. And as much as I despise the Dallas Cowboys, it was still a bit of an honor to be able to stand on the star at the center of the field when my friend Tom and I toured the place in '84. If I had it to do all over again, I'd have danced on it like T.O. did! What's interesting about this venue is how the roof was actually a separate structure (supported by massive concrete "legs") from the rest of the stadium, so conceivably, they could've torn the stadium out from underneath and left the roof standing to use as something else, but evidently they've chosen to use the site as a staging area for some highway construction projects.
Other than our own Arrowhead Stadium here in K.C., considering how often the Cowboys are on national TV (Sunday nights, Monday nights, Thanksgivings, Cowboys-Redskins, Cowboys-Giants, etc.), I've probably seen more football telecasts from Texas Stadium than any other NFL facility, apart from maybe the Meadowlands with the Giants and Jets. What's ironic is the venue that TS replaced, the venerable Cotton Bowl in Dallas proper, is still standing and still in use. Here's the video of the implosion of Texas Stadium. May it rest in pieces...
THE DIRT ON THE DIRT
I'm currently reading The Dirt, the Motley Crue saga, which I recently borrowed from the library. It's a highly entertaining book, if not very factual. I find myself only believing about half the stories being spun by Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick, mostly because that's what they are—stories! If they actually did beat up as many people as they claim to have beat up, done as many drugs as they claim to have done, etc., they'd have done a lot more jail time or all be dead by now (or both).
I remember when Motley Crue first hit the big-time, I really got into them because I saw them as the next Kiss, but when I look back now, there wasn't that much meat to chew on, musically, when I listen to their entire catalog. Essentially, these were four very fucked-up individuals, Nikki Sixx in particular, who was (admittedly) quite the asshole, and it's a miracle he even survived the '80s, let alone until now. One thing I was sure proud to see was how Nikki—the principle Crue songwriter—admitted that the albums Theater Of Pain and Girls, Girls, Girls were, for the most part, pure caca, as I always felt. As for the rest of the band, guitarist Mick Mars is kind of a strange duck too, and drummer Tommy Lee is your basic man-child who got lucky with Heather Locklear and Pamela Anderson. Regarding Vince Neil, I always thought he basically skated on that whole drunk driving thing that killed Razzle from Hanoi Rocks in 1984, but the families of the two people in the car that he collided with plumped for the big payday (2.6 million semolians) instead, and the judge decided that Vince would be worthless rotting in jail as opposed to lecturing school kids about the dangers of drinking and driving, so he got all of 30 days in the pokey.
Throughout most of the '80s Motley Crue was managed by one Doc McGhee, who also managed Bon Jovi, Scorpions and Skid Row, and has managed Kiss since 1996. What's interesting about that is this guy was convicted of smuggling marijuana back in the '80s. Nothing wrong with giving someone a second chance, but given Gene Simmons' staunch attitude about illegal drugs, I find it highly hypocritical that he entrusts the leadership of his band (not to mention his "baby") to someone who was involved in drug trafficking, yet he mercilessly rips on Ace Frehley and Peter Criss at every turn for their substance abuse issues, which were/are hardly in the same league as what McGhee was doing. What's up (Doc?) with the double-standard, Gene?
LOVE ME LIKE A REPTILE?
Got home from work the other night and grabbed the mail out of the box. Was thumbing through my bills as I strolled back toward my car near the edge of the driveway when I felt something hit my foot. Looked down and saw a snake slithering around my shoes. I've never jumped so high straight up before in my life! I hope to hell no one had their video cam trained on me, or I'll surely wind up on YouTube. True, it was just a harmless garden snake, but it might as well have been an Anaconda—I does NOT like snakes!! I'll be watching for the little bugger next time I mow grass, too—my lawnmower don't like snakes either...
THEY REALLY GOT HIS NUMBER...
They honored Jackie Robinson Thursday in Major League Baseball on what would've been his birthday, with all the players on every team wearing #42. Call me crazy, but I thought the whole idea behind retiring a player's number is so NO ONE wears it again!
And while it's most honorable that they honor JR, I can't help but think MLB is overdoing it a bit, almost as if they're apologizing and groveling for not honoring the man sooner than they did. The number thing on the jerseys is really impractical, since it's fairly important from a scorekeeping and player recognition standpoint to have different #s for everyone. Might I suggest next year having the players keep their regular numbers and wear a big #42 patch on their sleeves? Or better yet, how 'bout they all just wear caps with a big 42 on them?
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME...
...you saw/heard the phrase "Please be kind--REWIND!"? Damn, that was sooo '80s/'90s...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #123
"Your Mama Don't Dance"—LOGGINS & MESSINA (1972) "The old folks say you gotta end your date by ten..." I was only seven when this song came out, and I thought the line went "You gotta educate by ten..."
OKAY, I'M CLUELESS
Could someone please explain the song "Oh, Susanna!" to me? "For I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee"?!? Okay, I come from Missouri, so what exactly is the blasted banjo DOING on your knee? That would kinda hurt, wouldn't it? Surely it would be difficult to walk with a banjo on your knee. And even when seated, it would be awful hard to play the damn thing in that position...
I noticed too late that my previous Dave Edmunds post on Thursday was #666 for Holland's Comet. Yes, now it can be told—DE is the antichrist...
DIXIE CARTER, 1939-2010
Classy lady from TV's "Designing Women" passed away last weekend at age 70. I never much cared for that show until I started watching it on DVD recently (mostly because I'm partial to redhead Annie Potts, not to mention Jean Smart's gorgeous legs!), but I've found it mildly entertaining if for no other reason because it's nice to see women dressing like women, unlike in today's all-too-casual society. I do like Carter's character, Julia Sugarbaker, in spite of how she often got a little pompous and preachy at times, to the point where I can kinda sorta see where conservative people are coming from when they refer to that "liberal Hollywood agenda." Oddly enough, Dixie was a registered Republican in real life, and took issue with Julia's issues. At least Julia was a lot more tolerable than her insufferable sister Suzanne (played by Delta Burke), who was one of the most annoying characters in TV history, IMHO. All she did was park her fat ass on the sofa and bitch about everything—she certainly didn't contribute much to the business they were trying to run. And the woman had a pet pig, for crissakes! To paraphrase Chandler Bing: "Can you BE any more white trash?"
Anyway, Dixie Carter—not to be confused with the lady wrestler of the same name—married actor Hal Holbrook in 1984, and he had a recurring role on DW as Julia's boyfriend. I also remember her as the brilliantly bitchy boss lady from the short-lived series "On Our Own", starring Bess Armstrong circa. 1976-77. Rest in peace, Dixie—ya done good.
RIGHT ON TARGET, OR SHOULD I SAY, "RIGHT ON, TARGET!"?
A major wrong has been righted in the Twin Cities this week with the opening of Target Field, which replaces the evil Metrodome. That's right, folks, no more Astroturf and no more Hefty bag! The new park should serve the Twins well—it's in a great location on the west side of downtown next door to the Target Center arena (home of the those dreaded T-Wolves), which is adjacent to most of the bars, restaurants and nightclubs in downtown Minneapolis. The place looks great on TV, so I imagine it's even better in person—I hope I can make a weekend road trip this summer. Nice to see the Twinks in their Met Stadium throwback uniforms too, and best of all, they're playing outside again for the first time in 29 years. True, the weather up there in April and early May could be a bit frigid at times, but it's too darn pretty in the Twin Cities in June, July and August to be playing baseball indoors. There was a time about 10-15 years ago when the Twins were routinely being outdrawn by the minor league St. Paul Saints because they played outdoors and the Twins didn't. Too bad Hall of Famer Kirby Puckett, longtime Twins play-by-play man Herb Carneal and legendary PA announcer Bob "No smoking in the Metrodome!" Casey aren't still around to see the new joint...THEY BLOWED IT UP REAL GOOD!
And strangely enough, with a new stadium opening up this week, an old one was imploded last Sunday as Texas Stadium in Irving (Big Fat Irving), former home of the Dallas Plowboys, bit the dust—literally. And as much as I despise the Dallas Cowboys, it was still a bit of an honor to be able to stand on the star at the center of the field when my friend Tom and I toured the place in '84. If I had it to do all over again, I'd have danced on it like T.O. did! What's interesting about this venue is how the roof was actually a separate structure (supported by massive concrete "legs") from the rest of the stadium, so conceivably, they could've torn the stadium out from underneath and left the roof standing to use as something else, but evidently they've chosen to use the site as a staging area for some highway construction projects.
Other than our own Arrowhead Stadium here in K.C., considering how often the Cowboys are on national TV (Sunday nights, Monday nights, Thanksgivings, Cowboys-Redskins, Cowboys-Giants, etc.), I've probably seen more football telecasts from Texas Stadium than any other NFL facility, apart from maybe the Meadowlands with the Giants and Jets. What's ironic is the venue that TS replaced, the venerable Cotton Bowl in Dallas proper, is still standing and still in use. Here's the video of the implosion of Texas Stadium. May it rest in pieces...
THE DIRT ON THE DIRT
I'm currently reading The Dirt, the Motley Crue saga, which I recently borrowed from the library. It's a highly entertaining book, if not very factual. I find myself only believing about half the stories being spun by Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick, mostly because that's what they are—stories! If they actually did beat up as many people as they claim to have beat up, done as many drugs as they claim to have done, etc., they'd have done a lot more jail time or all be dead by now (or both).
I remember when Motley Crue first hit the big-time, I really got into them because I saw them as the next Kiss, but when I look back now, there wasn't that much meat to chew on, musically, when I listen to their entire catalog. Essentially, these were four very fucked-up individuals, Nikki Sixx in particular, who was (admittedly) quite the asshole, and it's a miracle he even survived the '80s, let alone until now. One thing I was sure proud to see was how Nikki—the principle Crue songwriter—admitted that the albums Theater Of Pain and Girls, Girls, Girls were, for the most part, pure caca, as I always felt. As for the rest of the band, guitarist Mick Mars is kind of a strange duck too, and drummer Tommy Lee is your basic man-child who got lucky with Heather Locklear and Pamela Anderson. Regarding Vince Neil, I always thought he basically skated on that whole drunk driving thing that killed Razzle from Hanoi Rocks in 1984, but the families of the two people in the car that he collided with plumped for the big payday (2.6 million semolians) instead, and the judge decided that Vince would be worthless rotting in jail as opposed to lecturing school kids about the dangers of drinking and driving, so he got all of 30 days in the pokey.
Throughout most of the '80s Motley Crue was managed by one Doc McGhee, who also managed Bon Jovi, Scorpions and Skid Row, and has managed Kiss since 1996. What's interesting about that is this guy was convicted of smuggling marijuana back in the '80s. Nothing wrong with giving someone a second chance, but given Gene Simmons' staunch attitude about illegal drugs, I find it highly hypocritical that he entrusts the leadership of his band (not to mention his "baby") to someone who was involved in drug trafficking, yet he mercilessly rips on Ace Frehley and Peter Criss at every turn for their substance abuse issues, which were/are hardly in the same league as what McGhee was doing. What's up (Doc?) with the double-standard, Gene?
LOVE ME LIKE A REPTILE?
Got home from work the other night and grabbed the mail out of the box. Was thumbing through my bills as I strolled back toward my car near the edge of the driveway when I felt something hit my foot. Looked down and saw a snake slithering around my shoes. I've never jumped so high straight up before in my life! I hope to hell no one had their video cam trained on me, or I'll surely wind up on YouTube. True, it was just a harmless garden snake, but it might as well have been an Anaconda—I does NOT like snakes!! I'll be watching for the little bugger next time I mow grass, too—my lawnmower don't like snakes either...
THEY REALLY GOT HIS NUMBER...
They honored Jackie Robinson Thursday in Major League Baseball on what would've been his birthday, with all the players on every team wearing #42. Call me crazy, but I thought the whole idea behind retiring a player's number is so NO ONE wears it again!
And while it's most honorable that they honor JR, I can't help but think MLB is overdoing it a bit, almost as if they're apologizing and groveling for not honoring the man sooner than they did. The number thing on the jerseys is really impractical, since it's fairly important from a scorekeeping and player recognition standpoint to have different #s for everyone. Might I suggest next year having the players keep their regular numbers and wear a big #42 patch on their sleeves? Or better yet, how 'bout they all just wear caps with a big 42 on them?
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME...
...you saw/heard the phrase "Please be kind--REWIND!"? Damn, that was sooo '80s/'90s...
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #123
"Your Mama Don't Dance"—LOGGINS & MESSINA (1972) "The old folks say you gotta end your date by ten..." I was only seven when this song came out, and I thought the line went "You gotta educate by ten..."
OKAY, I'M CLUELESS
Could someone please explain the song "Oh, Susanna!" to me? "For I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee"?!? Okay, I come from Missouri, so what exactly is the blasted banjo DOING on your knee? That would kinda hurt, wouldn't it? Surely it would be difficult to walk with a banjo on your knee. And even when seated, it would be awful hard to play the damn thing in that position...
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I STILL hear him Rockin' (Remastered)
April 15th is always a taxing day, but I always try to remember that it’s also the birthday of one of my all-time favorite music people, Welsh guitarist Dave Edmunds. Dave turns 66 today, so I’ve decided to update and re-tool my original blog post from three years ago about this guy, who is one very underrated musician. He certainly belongs in the (C)Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame a whole lot more than the likes of the Sex Pistols, Leonard Cohen (Rock on, Leo!) or Gaspasser Flash and the Furious Five.You may not even know his name, but you probably know of Dave’s work if you listen to Rock ‘N’ Roll at all. Dave hit the Top 40 a couple times himself (“I Hear You Knockin’” in ’71 and “Slipping Away” in ’83), and was 1/4 of the band Rockpile, which he formed with ex-Brinsley Schwartz bassist/singer Nick Lowe. Edmunds also produced albums for a number of major acts over years like the Stray Cats, Foghat and The Fabulous Thunderbirds. I first got into DE during the summer of ’79 when the old KY-102 here in K.C. started playing his new song “Crawling From The Wreckage”. Even though I was heavily into hard Rock at the time, I was like, “Who is THIS guy?” because I really grooved to the stripped-down Old School vibe of the song, plus the lyrics were a hoot—“Bits of me are scattered in the trees and on the hedges…”/“You’d think by now at least half my brain would get the message…”. Edmunds has your basic cult following, but it’s a pretty big cult as I discovered years later whenever I’d wear my Dave Edmunds concert t-shirt while out and about and strangers would come up to me and say, “Man, where’d you get the shirt? I love Dave Edmunds!”
Dave’s career dates all the way back to the mid-‘60s in merry olde England with a band called The Raiders (not to be confused with Paul Revere's bunch) and later the Human Beans (not the “Nobody But Me” Human Beinz), which he formed with late guitarist Mickey Gee. They scored a minor hit with a cover of Tim Rose’s classic “Morning Dew” in 1967, but didn't last long. Soon after, Edmunds formed the trio Love Sculpture, which was sort of a cross between Cream and Z.Z. Top, and they covered numerous Blues and Rockabilly classics. They even did a beyond-belief manic version of a Classical classic in 1968, Khachaturian’s “Sabre Dance”, featuring DE playing at breakneck speed throughout. Edmunds went solo a few years after that, and his cover of Smiley Lewis’ “I Hear You Knockin’” was a fluke #5 hit in the States in early '71. DE’s first official solo album, 1972’s Rockpile, also featured another classic cut, “Down, Down, Down”. He didn’t make another album until 1975’s Subtle As A Flying Mallet, which was a bit tamer and almost Phil Spector-ish in places.
Dave’s career really took off when he joined forces with Mr. Lowe in ’77, as the pair alternately recorded solo albums under their own names for the next three years, but it was in fact the Rockpile quartet that backed Edmunds’ Get It, Tracks On Wax 4 and Repeat When Necessary, as well as Lowe’s Jesus Of Cool (aka Pure Pop For Now People in the U.S.) and Labour Of Lust—ALL outstanding records. Rockpile was rounded out by guitarist Billy Bremner (that’s his lead guitar you hear on The Pretenders’ “Back On The Chain Gang” from ‘83) and drummer Terry Williams, who later toured with Dire Straits), and they were your classic old-school pub band. Irony of ironies, when the band finally did an album under the actual Rockpile name—1980’s Seconds Of Pleasure—it wound up paling in comparison with those previous Edmunds and Lowe platters. And in spite of a successful concert tour opening for Bad Company (and blowing the then-weakening Bad Co. off the stage, by most accounts) the band broke up somewhat acrimoniously. Edmunds and Lowe subsequently moved on in their solo careers without each other, though they did reconnect when Edmunds produced and played on Lowe’s underrated and underappreciated Party Of One CD in 1990.
Dave stumbled a bit in his first post-Rockpile release with Twangin'… in 1981, but rebounded nicely the following year with the excellent D.E. 7th. Now I normally don’t condone artists who make a career out of doing cover songs (Linda Ronstadt, White Courtesy Phone!), but I make an exception for someone who takes other people’s music and adds their own touches to and/or improves upon the original songs, something which Dave Edmunds excels at. DE doesn’t just play the hits, either—he mines a little deeper for hidden gems and slightly more obscure tracks like Elvis Presley’s “Paralyzed” and Chuck Berry’s “Dear Dad”. Edmunds also outdid the other Elvis (Costello) on his own “Girls’ Talk”, blowing the doors off the original, and Dave’s rendition of Seger’s classic “Get Out Of Denver” is even faster than Bob’s, if you can believe that. He also recorded a far superior version of “Queen Of Hearts” before Juice Newton came along and had the big hit with it in 1981.
This is not to say there’s a dearth of good original material in the Edmunds catalog, either. There’s plenty to go around, much of it written by Lowe, and much of it very witty, like “Television”, “Readers Wives”, “What Did I Do Last Night?” and “I Knew The Bride” (which Lowe himself scored a hit with in 1985). One young Bruce Springsteen contributed “From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come)” to D.E. 7th, and “Slipping Away” was written with future Traveling Wilbury Jeff Lynne of ELO. Edmunds and Lynne’s collaboration on two of Dave’s albums—Information (1983) and Riff Raff (1984)—was derisively dubbed “Edmunds Light Orchestra” by douche-bag music critics. Even with all the electronic drums (ewww!) and ‘80s overkill, Dave still managed to sound cool during that period. He contributed “High School Nights” and a few other songs to the soundtrack of Porky’s Revenge in ’85, then took a few years off, returning in 1990 with the semi-decent Closer To The Flame. Another four years passed before Dave’s next opus, a little do-it-yourself project he called Plugged In, the title being a nice little dig at the ever-growing (and wimpy) “Unplugged” fad that engulfed the mid-‘90s music world. Plugged In was a splendid affair, with DE playing all the instruments and doing all the singing himself, and it included a streamlined update of “Sabre Dance” that really kicks.
Oh, did I mention that Dave Edmunds could put on a pretty good live show, too? I saw him and his band nearly blow the roof off the old Uptown Theater here twice back in ’82 and ’83. Nothing flashy, nothing fake—just good ol’ straight ahead no-bullshit Rock ‘N’ Roll. See folks? It doesn’t always have to be spectacle and bombast (à la Kiss, The Who, Van Halen, Motörhead, et al) to please me. Dave hasn’t been as active the last 15 years or so, having semi-retired because of some health issues (he’s had heart problems in the past), but he did go against his Plugged In protocol by doing a solo acoustic album back in 2000 that featured covers of Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas” and Jerry Reed’s “The Claw”, among others. Not only must I thank Dave for his own body of work, but for broadening my musical horizons considerably as well by introducing me to the work of Nick Lowe, who in turn (via the short-lived Little Village “supergroup”) opened my ears to the exploits of John Hiatt. Both of these gentlemen are extremely witty and inventive songwriters, and Hiatt in particular has become one of my all-time favorites.
[NOTE: In my original tribute, I was in a hurry and took the wussy way out by simply ranking my Top 5 Dave Edmunds albums. Time to be a little more thorough…]
My All-Time Dave Edmunds Top 30:
30) High School Nights (1985) From the Porky’s Revenge soundtrack, Dave croons about high school being the best years of our lives. I beg to differ—I fucking HATED high school. Cool song, all the same…
29) Singin’ The Blues (1981) Black Oak Arkansas probably had the best (and certainly the funniest) cover version of this song, but Dave’s is pretty good too.
28) Halfway Down (1994) This one was written by country singer/songwriter Jim Lauderdale. Has a nice galloping pace to it.
27) Have A Heart (1983) The closing track off Information, “HAH” somehow managed to cut through the electronic synthesizer haze that permeated the rest of the album and it sizzled.
26) Busted Loose (1984) Another from the “Edmunds Light Orchestra” era with Jeff Lynne, all about a guy on the lam after a jailbreak. I have trouble picturing Dave as the hardened criminal he claims to be in the lyrics, but it’s a fun song to listen to, even with all the synths and drum machines.
25) Slipping Away (1983) Dave’s second (and probably final) sniff of the Top 40 in America. This song always pops up in my head when I realize the Chiefs (or whichever team I’m rooting for) have no chance to win the game I’m watching. “I can feel you (it) slipping away…
24) Not A Woman, Not A Child (1978) Little ditty about an adolescent girl grown up too soon. Seems to be a lot of those these days…
23) Other Guys Girls (1982) Nifty song from D.E. 7th that has Dave’s vocals double-tracked to sound like his idols, the Everly Brothers.
22) Steel Claw (1984) Edmunds usually remains apolitical, but this was a nice sideswipe at phony politicians everywhere. Curiously enough, Tina Turner came out with her own version of the song at roughly the same time on Private Dancer.
21) I Hear You Knockin’ (1971) I have no doubt lots of people were going “Dave who?” in 1971, but somehow this thing got all the way to #5. Still gets played on Oldies stations today, believe it or not. Fats Domino (who gets a verbal mention in Dave’s version) also took a shot at the song in the early ‘60s, with slightly different lyrics.
20) Bad Is Bad (1979) Youse Huey Lewis fans will know this one, but you might not recognize it because Dave’s version is so radically different (i.e., it’s much faster and punchier). Brother Huey himself honks out his harmonica here, but his name was misspelled in the album credits (“Hughie”). Love the line, “All you can eat for a dollar-99…This ol’ stew is the baddest in the land…One dollar’s worth was all I could stand.”
19) Television (1978) Another Lowe original about a working man addicted to the tube. “Just so long as it’s on, I’m glad…”
18) From Small Things (Big Things One Day Come) (1982) Written specifically for Edmunds by The Boss, this one’s so good that I’m surprised Brucie didn’t keep it for himself. Might’ve fit in nicely on Born In The USA.
17) It Doesn’t Really Matter (1994) “When it all comes down to a hole in the ground, it doesn’t really matter at all.” I try to remind myself of this during stressful times, with varying degrees of success.
16) Rules Of The Game (1984) Quirky and almost mechanical-sounding song written by Edmunds’ bassist at the time, John David. I’ve always been partial to it, for some reason.
15) What Have I Got To Do To Win? (1983) An Edmunds original, and the story of my love-life to a tee. “I’ve got the rules of the game down, but what have I got do to win? I’d like to play the game, but I don’t wanna have to lose again…” An anthem for those of us who struggle to score with women.
14) Standing At The Crossroads (1994) Another dandy track from Plugged In, a very under-the-radar album. Points off for Dave singing the line “I’m 6-foot-6, I weigh 200 pounds…” Uhhh, Dave ain’t quite that tall!
13) Trouble Boys (1978) Lead-off number from the excellent Tracks On Wax 4—what a nice respite from all the disco folderol during that period! This one tells the story of a poor guy who takes his girl on a date and they encounter a gang of thugs who steal her away from him, but he has the balls to not only stand up to them and get her back, but win their respect as well. Or something like that…
12) You Ain’t Nothin’ But Fine [Rockpile] (1980) Arguably the best track off the disappointing Seconds Of Pleasure LP. For some reason, they just didn’t nail the same vibe as they had on those previous Edmunds and Lowe albums. When Dave did this one in concert in the ‘80s, he gave it a Cajun flavor by adding Geraint Watkins on the accordian.
11) Bail You Out (1982) Speaking of Cajun, this song’s loaded with it. Makes you think you're in Nawleans when you hear it.
10) The Race Is On [w/The Stray Cats] (1981) Easily the best song off Twangin’... and a great cover of George Jones’ Country classic, just before the Stray Cats hit the big-time.
9) King Of Love (1990) Speaking of the Stray Cats, Brian Setzer provides nifty call-and-response vocals and Slim Jim Phantom plays the stand-up bass on this ‘50s-sounding tune.
8) Readers Wives (1978) If I’m interpreting my Queen’s English correctly, a “Readers Wife” would be a prostitute, since this song is all about getting laid at this veritable buffet line of concubines. Apparently, they come in all shapes and sizes (“The little ones stand 4-foot-3, while the big ones start at 44D…”), and I’d love to meet Little Maria (“who’d do it for a beer”). Imagine what she’d do for a 12-pack!
7) Get Out Of Denver (1977) Even speedier and tighter than Bob Seger’s original.
6) I Knew The Bride (1977) Lowe’s ’85 version (produced by Huey Lewis) has become a staple at wedding receptions the world over, but I’ve always preferred Dave’s version, which is edgier and faster.
5) Girls' Talk (1979) Seems that the great Declan McManus (aka Elvis Costello) was none too pleased with Edmunds’ rendition of his song. Sour grapes. Can Dave help it if he’s a far better singer? Sorry kids, but I still think Costello’s grossly overrated—how he makes the HOF but Edmunds and Lowe don't is pure heresy.
4) Dear Dad (1982) One of the best Chuck Berry covers ever. It’s a short (1:51) but sweet letter from a son begging his father for a Cadillac to replace his current P.O.S. vehicle in the pre-"Cash For Clunkers" era. Love the punchline where da boy signs it “Sincerely, your beloved son, Henry Junior Ford…”
3) What Did I Do Last Night? (1977) Another quickie (1:47) written by Lowe and played at breakneck speed, all about overdoing things the night before. “Opened my eyes and took a look because I didn’t have a clue about where I was/Turned my head and it cut me like a knife, ‘cus the woman lyin’ there surely wasn’t my wife!”
2) Sabre Dance [Love Sculpture] (1968)/Sabre Dance ‘94 (1994) Take your pick here—EITHER version rocks! The Love Sculpture original is more frenetic and raw, while the ’94 rendition is slicker and more fluid. And even though the latter utilizes a drum machine, it’s still full-tilt boogie at its finest.
1) Crawling From The Wreckage (1979) It was so hard to choose a favorite here because Dave’s got so many cool songs, so I figured the one where it all started for me might as well be #1. “When I’m disconnect from the driving wheel, I’m only half the man I should be…” Brilliant line.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Is it cool, or is it cool?
Well, the Brothers Johnson might not have to arbitrate this, but I had a little fun recently by merely kicking back and thinking about some of the really nifty shit I've done during my 45.8 years on this here planet. My list is by no means all-inclusive, and I highly encourage you to compile your own list. Keep in mind that it doesn't matter how big or small your items/events are, so long as they are important to YOU! Meantime, here's my list (in no particular order).
Since my arrival on this sphere we call Earth on 6/11/64, yours turly...
Since my arrival on this sphere we call Earth on 6/11/64, yours turly...
- Attended the first regular season game ever played at Royals (now Kauffman) Stadium (1973)
- Met The Who's John Entwistle/Got his autograph (1998)
- Walked on the parquet floor at Boston Garden (1994)
- Stood at the top of Pike's Peak (1993)
- Attended 16 Kiss concerts (1979-Present)
- Talked on the radio—a lot! (1987-89)
- Swiped-tagged Ace Frehley of Kiss on the arm (1994)
- Could recite all 50 U.S. state capitals and point them out on a map by the time he was five (1969)
- Witnessed two championship sporting events in person (Kansas City Attack indoor soccer team, 1993/1997)
- Walked on the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco (2008)
- Saw Hank Aaron hit a home run in person (at Royals Stadium as a member of the Milwaukee Brewers, June 11, 1976—my 12th birthday)
- Met George Carlin/got his autograph (1987)
- Chanted "Yankees suck! Yankees suck!" along with the assembled multitude in Crown Center the night the Royals beat New York in the ALCS (1980)
- Got within ten feet of/almost got to shake hands with President Gerald R. Ford in Independence, MO (1975)
- Was the last voice ever heard on a radio station (at KKJC, "The Mighty 1030" in Blue Springs--January 31, 1988 @ 9:59 P.M.)
- Spoke into the same microphone as Wolfman Jack once did (also at KKJC, 1987)
- Kissed a beautiful woman at the top of the Stratosphere tower in Las Vegas (1999)
- Partied at the Country Club Plaza/Westport when the Royals won the World Series (1985)
- Visited the famed Motown recording studio Detroit (2006)
- Met/chatted with Mark Lindsay of Paul Revere & The Raiders/got his autograph (2001)
- Experienced "The Roar" at Chicago Stadium (1990/1994)
- Attended 108 concerts (1979-Present)
- Got kicked out of Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto for buying a stolen season ticket (1994)
- Toured the studios of KMOX-AM, St. Louis [the Mercedes-Benz of radio stations]/Touched Jack Buck's mail slot (1990)
- Saw Elton John blow Starlight Theater apart with an outstanding concert (1982)
- Saw Wayne Gretzky play in person/Get stoned by the goalie on a breakaway (1990)
- Attended George Brett's final home game as a Kansas City Royal (1993)
- Visited the gravesites of Harry S. Truman, Johnny Cash, Curly Howard and Jimi Hendrix
- Spoke to Hank Stram on the phone (1994)
- Drove through the ghettos of Chicago (at night in a 1982 Cadillac) and lived to tell about it (1985)
- Attended Game 3 of the 1985 ALCS at Royals Stadium when G. Brett hit two home runs and beat them Toronto Blue Jays (1985)
- Witnessed the Kansas City Comets FINALLY beat the St. Louis Steamers in a playoff series (1985)
- Rode to the top of the Gateway Arch in St. Louis (numerous times, 1971-Present)
- Saw Mario Lemieux score a goal in person (1994)
- Almost met Harry Caray in St. Louis (1988)
- Edited box scores for The Kansas City Star (1995-98)
- Visited the hallowed Sun Records recording studio in Memphis/touched the same microphone Elvis Presley, Bono, Carl Perkins, et al, once sang into (2007)
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
W.W.S.D.?
(What Would Scooby Do?)
Rut-row, Raggy! Alright, you meddling kids—it’s been far too long since I’ve authored one of my trademark multi-topic blog posts, so let’s get caught up on some current folderol, shall we?
HE BANGS?!?
Say it isn’t so, Ethyl!! Ricky Martin is gay?!? Talk about another delusion shattered! Okay, I’m being facetious—my reaction to this earth-shattering revelation is the same as when Freddie Mercury and George Michael outed themselves: Meh, kinda figured. Ricky’s timing is rather suspect, tho—why admit this now? Most likely because it’s become so fashionable to come out to the media these days. And since Martin hasn’t had a hit in almost ten years (and even that was a duet with Christina Aguilera), this is merely a desperate attempt to keep his name in the papers. To mark the occasion, perhaps his next single should be a remake of “Go Away Little Girl”…
BULLOCK BOLLOCKS
Why oh why does everyone seemingly have their panties in a wad over actress Sandra Bullock’s crumbling marriage? I don’t even know who this Jesse James goomer is that she’s married to, anyway. I’ve never been overly impressed with her either, both in terms of her looks and her acting prowess, although I have yet to see her Oscar-winning gig in The Blind Side. And while she’s not all that UNattractive to me, and I doubt I'd ever kick her out of my bed, she doesn’t really blow me away, either. Much ado about nothing...
On the other hand, it's come to my attention that my girl Kate Winslet is about to become a free agent again. Kate, dah-ling, if you're reading this, let your soon-to-be ex- have custody of your kids and come see me sometime!
“(YOU’RE A) DANCIN’ FOOL…”
Frank Zappa’s classic tune could actually be applied to most any of the so-called “stars” on ABC’s “Dancing With The Stars”, but it’s especially apropos for the Queen of The Limelight Whores, Kate Gosselin. Exactly what is it about this woman that makes her a star? To me, notoriety alone doth not a star make. And evidently she’s being the same total control freak be-yatch with her dance partners on "DWTS" that she was with her family on that reality show. All I know is Kate better not play the “Please respect my privacy” card anymore after all this…
THREE C-SPANS, GRACIE?
Can someone please explain to me the existence of C-Span 3? Nobody even watches regular C-Span, do they?
“JUST TO KNOW WHO IS DRIVING, WHAT A HELP IT WOULD BE…”
Interesting tidbit I learned the other day about my man, the late John Entwistle of The Who. Even though he owned a flotilla of fancy cars, the boy never actually learned to drive any of them! “I drink in them,” he was once quoted. Strangely enough, this phenomenon is not all that uncommon amongst Rock musicians. It was only a few years ago that Gene Simmons of Kiss finally got his driver’s license (he's 60 now), and neither the late Eddie Cochran nor the late Marc Bolan of T. Rex ever learned to drive—yet both ironically were killed in car accidents in which they were passengers.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #122
“Break Every Rule”—TINA TURNER (1987) “I’m always singing your praises…” Or as I initially interpreted the line, “I’m always singing ‘You’re crazy!’…” Very underrated track, btw…
TACO BELL, YOU'RE SO DINGY!
Does Taco Bell really expect me to believe I’ll ever actually be waited on by a pretty/perky white girl at one of their stores like in their current TV ads about the 89-cent burritos? Uhhh, I’ll take Science Fiction for $200, Alex! My odds of winning the lottery are better than to encounter behind their counter one these modeling agency chicks. I consider myself lucky if I ever get waited on by a Taco Bell employee who even speaks proper English…
I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!—PART 1
I posed this question about eight months ago, but to my utter dismay, it bears repeating: Does anyone besides me find it just a tad crass that they’re still running those annoying Billy Mays TV ads? The “Voice That Activated a Million Mute Buttons” has been dead for what, nine months now? Yet his commercials still air on cable TV. He’s a corpse now—let him freakin’ rot, already! Pretty damn pathetic…
I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!—PART 2
My recent library visits have yielded a couple of very thorough and interesting reference books about deceased music people, including the one I'm currently perusing, Heroin, Hanguns And Ham Sandwiches—The Encyclopedia of Dead Rock Stars by British author Jeremy Simmonds. Lots of fascinating facts and trivia about people's careers (not just their demises) and some very intriguing quotes. To wit: "Don't worry—it's not loaded, see?"—Terry Kath, Chicago, January 23, 1978, just before he blew his brains out. "If I could put into one words what the essence of The Yardbirds was—it would be 'electricity'."—Keith Relf, Yarbirds lead singer, who was electrocuted in 1976 while playing guitar in his basement.
DON’T BE CRUEL…AND QUIT RUNNING THESE ADS!
Youse animal lovers out there might be taken aback by what follows here, but please hear me out on this one. I don’t mean to seem like an insensitive clod, but I’m sick to death of this latest spate of TV ads pleading for us to send money to stop animal cruelty. You know the ones, these tear-inducing/grab-your-hanky/tug-at-your-heartstrings commercials featuring Sarah McLaughlin, Wendie Malick, et al, that show these poor unfortunate critters in the kennels and animal shelters. The "charities" proceed to lay out the big guilt-trip and want you to send them $20 a month to ostensibly put an end to animal cruelty, even though some of these animals they depict aren’t even mistreated at all, like the one-eyed cats and three-legged dogs—those are birth defects, not the result of abuse! Don’t get me wrong, I don't mean to damn the cause, here—I, too, feel that mistreatment of animals is totally uncool. Still, I have issues with the way these ads manipulate the viewer into thinking their hard-earned money is actually going to change anything. And I wouldn't be a good cynic if I weren't extremely distrusting of these “charities” that supposedly benefit children and animals (Feed The Children, Christian Children’s Fund, St. Jude Children’s Hospital, et al), especially the ones who always seem to have a specific set monetary amount in mind for you to send them every month. I’ve heard too many horror stories about how once these “charitable” outfits latch on to you, it’s damn near impossible to get them to leave you alone once you decide to cease contributing, for whatever reason. They’re just money-grubbing rackets to me, not charities. As the esteemed philosopher Fudd always cautioned, “Be vewy vewy caweful!”
AN IDEA WHOSE TIME HAS COME?
Speaking of rackets, I don’t suppose there’s such a program as “Cash For Mold” anywhere, is there? If so, I could make a fortune—my crawlspace is usually brimming with it this time of year!
Rut-row, Raggy! Alright, you meddling kids—it’s been far too long since I’ve authored one of my trademark multi-topic blog posts, so let’s get caught up on some current folderol, shall we?
HE BANGS?!?
Say it isn’t so, Ethyl!! Ricky Martin is gay?!? Talk about another delusion shattered! Okay, I’m being facetious—my reaction to this earth-shattering revelation is the same as when Freddie Mercury and George Michael outed themselves: Meh, kinda figured. Ricky’s timing is rather suspect, tho—why admit this now? Most likely because it’s become so fashionable to come out to the media these days. And since Martin hasn’t had a hit in almost ten years (and even that was a duet with Christina Aguilera), this is merely a desperate attempt to keep his name in the papers. To mark the occasion, perhaps his next single should be a remake of “Go Away Little Girl”…
BULLOCK BOLLOCKS
Why oh why does everyone seemingly have their panties in a wad over actress Sandra Bullock’s crumbling marriage? I don’t even know who this Jesse James goomer is that she’s married to, anyway. I’ve never been overly impressed with her either, both in terms of her looks and her acting prowess, although I have yet to see her Oscar-winning gig in The Blind Side. And while she’s not all that UNattractive to me, and I doubt I'd ever kick her out of my bed, she doesn’t really blow me away, either. Much ado about nothing...
On the other hand, it's come to my attention that my girl Kate Winslet is about to become a free agent again. Kate, dah-ling, if you're reading this, let your soon-to-be ex- have custody of your kids and come see me sometime!
“(YOU’RE A) DANCIN’ FOOL…”
Frank Zappa’s classic tune could actually be applied to most any of the so-called “stars” on ABC’s “Dancing With The Stars”, but it’s especially apropos for the Queen of The Limelight Whores, Kate Gosselin. Exactly what is it about this woman that makes her a star? To me, notoriety alone doth not a star make. And evidently she’s being the same total control freak be-yatch with her dance partners on "DWTS" that she was with her family on that reality show. All I know is Kate better not play the “Please respect my privacy” card anymore after all this…
THREE C-SPANS, GRACIE?
Can someone please explain to me the existence of C-Span 3? Nobody even watches regular C-Span, do they?
“JUST TO KNOW WHO IS DRIVING, WHAT A HELP IT WOULD BE…”
Interesting tidbit I learned the other day about my man, the late John Entwistle of The Who. Even though he owned a flotilla of fancy cars, the boy never actually learned to drive any of them! “I drink in them,” he was once quoted. Strangely enough, this phenomenon is not all that uncommon amongst Rock musicians. It was only a few years ago that Gene Simmons of Kiss finally got his driver’s license (he's 60 now), and neither the late Eddie Cochran nor the late Marc Bolan of T. Rex ever learned to drive—yet both ironically were killed in car accidents in which they were passengers.
CLASSIC MISHEARD LYRIC #122
“Break Every Rule”—TINA TURNER (1987) “I’m always singing your praises…” Or as I initially interpreted the line, “I’m always singing ‘You’re crazy!’…” Very underrated track, btw…
TACO BELL, YOU'RE SO DINGY!
Does Taco Bell really expect me to believe I’ll ever actually be waited on by a pretty/perky white girl at one of their stores like in their current TV ads about the 89-cent burritos? Uhhh, I’ll take Science Fiction for $200, Alex! My odds of winning the lottery are better than to encounter behind their counter one these modeling agency chicks. I consider myself lucky if I ever get waited on by a Taco Bell employee who even speaks proper English…
I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!—PART 1
I posed this question about eight months ago, but to my utter dismay, it bears repeating: Does anyone besides me find it just a tad crass that they’re still running those annoying Billy Mays TV ads? The “Voice That Activated a Million Mute Buttons” has been dead for what, nine months now? Yet his commercials still air on cable TV. He’s a corpse now—let him freakin’ rot, already! Pretty damn pathetic…
I SEE DEAD PEOPLE!—PART 2
My recent library visits have yielded a couple of very thorough and interesting reference books about deceased music people, including the one I'm currently perusing, Heroin, Hanguns And Ham Sandwiches—The Encyclopedia of Dead Rock Stars by British author Jeremy Simmonds. Lots of fascinating facts and trivia about people's careers (not just their demises) and some very intriguing quotes. To wit: "Don't worry—it's not loaded, see?"—Terry Kath, Chicago, January 23, 1978, just before he blew his brains out. "If I could put into one words what the essence of The Yardbirds was—it would be 'electricity'."—Keith Relf, Yarbirds lead singer, who was electrocuted in 1976 while playing guitar in his basement.
DON’T BE CRUEL…AND QUIT RUNNING THESE ADS!
Youse animal lovers out there might be taken aback by what follows here, but please hear me out on this one. I don’t mean to seem like an insensitive clod, but I’m sick to death of this latest spate of TV ads pleading for us to send money to stop animal cruelty. You know the ones, these tear-inducing/grab-your-hanky/tug-at-your-heartstrings commercials featuring Sarah McLaughlin, Wendie Malick, et al, that show these poor unfortunate critters in the kennels and animal shelters. The "charities" proceed to lay out the big guilt-trip and want you to send them $20 a month to ostensibly put an end to animal cruelty, even though some of these animals they depict aren’t even mistreated at all, like the one-eyed cats and three-legged dogs—those are birth defects, not the result of abuse! Don’t get me wrong, I don't mean to damn the cause, here—I, too, feel that mistreatment of animals is totally uncool. Still, I have issues with the way these ads manipulate the viewer into thinking their hard-earned money is actually going to change anything. And I wouldn't be a good cynic if I weren't extremely distrusting of these “charities” that supposedly benefit children and animals (Feed The Children, Christian Children’s Fund, St. Jude Children’s Hospital, et al), especially the ones who always seem to have a specific set monetary amount in mind for you to send them every month. I’ve heard too many horror stories about how once these “charitable” outfits latch on to you, it’s damn near impossible to get them to leave you alone once you decide to cease contributing, for whatever reason. They’re just money-grubbing rackets to me, not charities. As the esteemed philosopher Fudd always cautioned, “Be vewy vewy caweful!”
AN IDEA WHOSE TIME HAS COME?
Speaking of rackets, I don’t suppose there’s such a program as “Cash For Mold” anywhere, is there? If so, I could make a fortune—my crawlspace is usually brimming with it this time of year!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
"Sorry to have taken so long--It must've been a bitch while I was gone..."
…as the ol’ Kiss song goes. Now's the time for you to "reacquaint yourself with my style"...
Again, my profoundest apologies for the lack of activity here, but I simply haven’t had the time or creative spark lately to put any blog entries together. While my father’s death a month ago definitely sidetracked me, I’ve also been busy with another project that eats up a lot of my free time, so the blog unfortunately has been on the back burner of late. But, it’s time to hop back in my armchair music critic saddle, and in the spirit of comebacks, I present to you a compilation of my favorite Comeback Albums of all-time. This isn’t a ranking this time, just a nice little round-up in no particular order.
NOTE: I've only included albums that are actually in my collection. I’m sure there are other worthy candidates by folks like Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Crosby Stills Nash and/or Neil Young, et al, but I don’t have enough of their stuff to properly comment on them.
Double Fantasy—JOHN LENNON & YOKO ONO (1980) JL had spent the better part of five years playing daddy and househusband and just plain taking a well-deserved break from the limelight from late, ’75 through late, ‘80, all the while re-charging his creative batteries. Since this was a collaborative effort with Yoko, I don’t really consider this a full-fledged comeback, per se, but it was close enough. Also, this album has always been hard to judge on its true merits because of all the emotions associated with John’s senseless murder. While John had traded in some of his edge for a more melodic and even nostalgic sound, his songs were very poignant and personal here, especially “Watching The Wheels”, “Woman” and “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)”, the latter written for his young son, Sean. “Cleanup Time” was an underrated cut, too. I know JL would disagree, but I really could’ve done without Yoko’s songs on here, apart from maybe “Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Him”—her voice just grates on me like fingernails on a blackboard and sitar music do. One wonders how much better Double Fantasy would’ve been had it been called Single Fantasy and featured John exclusively.
Spirit Of The Wild—TED NUGENT (1995) Oh, how the mighty had fallen! Fifteen years earlier, The Nuge was at the top of the Rock ‘N’ Roll heap, but the ‘80s weren’t kind to Sweaty Teddy at all. He got off on the wrong foot with the mediocre Scream Dream in 1980, and followed that with his putrid 1981 live album, Intensities In 10 Cities, which was inexplicably ranked #9 on the Guitar World Top 10 Live Albums list—uhhh, better lay off the cough syrup there, fellas. Ted rebounded a bit when he switched labels from Epic to Atlantic in 1982 with Nugent, then a major malaise infected Nugent’s career, marked by constant personnel changes in his band and a string of mediocre-to-dreadful albums through the rest of the decade. Things got so bad that Nugent was even willing to share the spotlight for once by joining forces with Jack Blades and Tommy Shaw to form Damn Yankees in 1989. DY showed promise as a steady unit early on, but disbanded after only two albums in the early ‘90s, with Blades subsequently returning to Night Ranger, Shaw doing likewise with Styx, and Nugent going solo again. Ted wisely reconvened with erstwhile lead singer/rhythm guitarist Derek St. Holmes in 1995 for Spirit Of The Wild, and the result was easily Nugent’s best LP since 1979’s State of Shock. St. Holmes sounded great on “Heart And Soul” and the title track, and Ted was his old cocky self again on “Kiss My Ass”, even though it was a diatribe against liberals of all stripes. However, I merely substitute Bill O’Reilly for Janet Reno while singing along to Ted’s little “roll call” at the end of the song, and we get along just fine. “I Shoot Back” was another standout track, and the album also included a slightly-remixed version of his 1989 hunter’s anthem “Fred Bear”. I’m not much of an outdoorsy-type, but it’s a cool song, all the same. Sadly, all Nugent’s done since that album is be a moronic right-wing extremist bigot and talk out of his ass instead of with his guitar. In the words of Fred Sanford, “I used to like you…dummy!”
Permanent Vacation—AEROSMITH (1987) Like Nugent, Aerosmith was also at the top of the Rock heap in the late ‘70s, but drugs and apathy derailed their career big-time after 1977’s Draw The Line. Guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford both defected in the early ‘80s and were replaced by two nobodies for an album or two until singer Steven Tyler cleaned up his act (sort of, anyway). The comeback was initiated with 1984’s Done With Mirrors (which featured a killer remake of Joe Perry’s solo tune “Let The Music Do The Talking”), and was completed with Permanent Vacation, an album that caught a lot of people by surprise. It contained some cool under-the-radar stuff like “Simoriah”, “Heart’s Done Time” and an instrumental, “The Movie”, as well as yielding several huge hits, including “Rag Doll” and “Dude (Looks Like A Lady)”. Unfortunately, the success of one hit, “Angel”, sent Aerosmith barreling down a bad path they have yet to return from—all their albums since then have contained one or more predictable sappy power ballads, thus rendering most of their output from the last 15 years or so to be almost unlistenable.
Lap Of Luxury—CHEAP TRICK (1988) Ironically, Cheap Trick reached the pinnacle of their career with a power ballad long about the same time Aerosmith did with “Angel”, scoring their first and only #1 hit with “The Flame”. The big difference here is “The Flame” is a far superior song, but also Trick found themselves pigeonholed by the song and found it impossible to duplicate its success. Just as well, I prefer CT as a rockin’ band instead of balladeers anyway, and they found their mojo again on Luxury after a string of spotty releases throughout the ‘80s in the wake of 1979’s classic Dream Police album. Lap also marked the return of bassist Tom Petersson from an extended absence. This record was much more focused than the prior few, and while it had a slick ‘80s sheen to it, I’ve always been partial to it. In addition to “Flame”, the album included a remake of Elvis’ “Don’t Be Cruel” that was a total hoot, as well as the weepy/bluesy “Ghost Town” (on which guitarist Rick Nielsen turns in a credible George Harrison impression in his lead solo) and “All We Need Is A Dream”, which would’ve slotted in perfectly on most any ‘80s teen romance flick. The best track, however, was the Who-like closer, “All Wound Up”, featuring Petersson’s Entwistle-like rumbling bass and Nielsen’s Townshend-like crashing power chords throughout.
The Razor’s Edge—AC/DC (1991) Angus and the boys spent most of the ‘80s in the shadow of their 1980 behemoth, Back In Black. Although their ‘80s albums had their moments now and then—namely “For Those About To Rock”, “Heatseeker”, “That’s The Way I Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll”, “Shake Your Foundations”, “This Means War” and “Flick Of The Switch”—AC/DC just couldn’t put together any really consistent albums until The Razor’s Edge. I think the reason for this might be in part because late singer Bon Scott was a much better (and wittier) songwriter than his replacement, Brian Johnson. Johnson’s voice had lost a lot of its high end by this point, too, but he sounded a lot better on this record than the previous few, and the material was much better this time round, like the radio hits “Thunderstruck” and “Moneytalks”, as well primo tracks like “Fire Your Guns”, "Rock Your Heart Out" and “Are You Ready?”. They even threw in a yuletide tune, “Mistress For Christmas”. It would be another 17 years before AC/DC made their next consistent CD, 2008’s Black Ice.
Heaven And Hell—BLACK SABBATH (1980) Some hardcore Sabbath fans regard the post-Ozzy era as absolute heresy and totally dismiss Heaven And Hell altogether, but that’s just sour grapes more than anything from all the Osbourne sycophants. His Ozz-ness had become more of a liability than an asset since about the time of 1975’s Sabotage album, and was booted from the band after 1978’s Never Say Die! (which actually had its moments here and there, IMHO), and was replaced by former Rainbow lead singer Ronnie James Dio. H&H was a killer record, especially Side 1 (back when albums had sides, remember kids?), and came charging out of the gate with “Neon Knights”, one of my favorite metal tunes ever. “Children Of The Sea”, “Lady Evil” and the title track filled out the rest of this splendid side, and Side 2’s “Die Young” didn’t suck, either. Too bad the Sabs couldn’t maintain the momentum with the follow-up, Mob Rules, in 1981, which soon triggered the constant revolving door of Black Sabbath lead singers—Dio, Ian Gillan, Glenn Hughes, Tony Martin, Dio again, Rob Halford (for one gig, anyway), Tony Martin again, Ozzy again, Dio again, etc.
Trash—ALICE COOPER (1990) Big Al had been lost in the musical wilderness for well over a decade, and his career was all but dead by the late ‘80s. Too much alcohol—not to mention playing golf with the likes of George Burns and hanging out with too many Hollywood-types—had dulled Alice’s senses and he lost his edge, big-time. He totally wimped-out by the late ‘70s with mushy ballads like “You And Me”, “Only Women Bleed” and “How You Gonna See Me Now?” (the latter co-written by Bernie Taupin during his hiatus from working with Elton John), then AC dabbled in New Wave with 1980’s trippy “Clones (We’re All)” before gradually drifting back to his Hard Rock roots. It took him a few albums to really hit his stride again, and Trash was an outstanding heavy metal slab that included the radio hits “Poison” and “House Of Fire”, along with a couple other gems like “Why Trust You?”, "Spark In The Dark" and “Bed Of Nails”. The album received assists from Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, Joan Jett and Steven Tyler, as well.
Perfect Strangers—DEEP PURPLE (1984) Now here was a Rock ‘N’ Roll reunion that made you wanna say “What took you guys so long?!?” It had been well over ten years since singer Ian Gillan left Deep Purple following their landmark live set Made In Japan, after which DP endured numerous lineup changes (only drummer Ian Paice has made the entire journey with the band) and by the late ‘70s, the group had disappeared altogether. Sometime in late ’83, someone in the group said, “Whaddya reckon we do this again?” and I have a hunch that Gillan probably jumped at the chance to escape the mistake he’d made by joining Black Sabbath for the ill-fated Born Again album. With old differences put aside and fences mended, the classic Deep Purple Mach II lineup consisting of the two Ians, bassist Roger Glover, keyboardist Jon Lord and guitarist Ritchie Blackmore reformed to produce one of the better albums of 1984, Perfect Strangers. As “Rockline” radio host Bob Coburn proclaimed, “The reality turned out better than the fantasy.” Other than technology, not much had changed sonically for the band in ten years, and it was almost as if they’d never split up in the first place. “Knockin’ At Your Back Door” and the title track were radio hits, and I loved other cuts like “Nobody’s Home”, “Mean Streak” and “Not Responsible”. The reunion lasted through another album, 1987’s The House Of Blue Light, which wasn’t a bad follow-up, but Gillan split the band again and was replaced by erstwhile Blackmore’s Rainbow singer Joe Lynn Turner in 1990.
Cycles—THE DOOBIE BROTHERS (1989) In a similar “What took so long?” scenario, it was almost as if the Brothers Doobie had invented time travel, because if I didn’t know any better, I coulda swore it was 1974 all over again when I first heard this excellent (and very unappreciated) reunion album. The Doobies broke up in the early ‘80s after singer Michael McDonald had neutered them into a wimpy Jazz/Fusion hybrid instead of a true Rock band, but original singer and co-founder Tom Johnston (who has a far more soulful voice than McDonald, IMO) decided he was ready to get back in the game in 1989. TJ got back together with longtime stalwart guitarist Pat Simmons, bassist Tiran Porter, drummer John Harte and percussionist Bobby LaKind (who would die of cancer a couple years afterwards, sadly), and the result far exceeded my expectations. While it’s true that the lead track and first single, “The Doctor”, was clearly a “China Grove” clone, the rest of the record had some really tasty stuff like “One Chain (Don’t Make No Prison)”, “Wrong Number”, “Too High A Price”, "Time Is Here And Gone" and a spiffy cover version of the Isley Bros.’ “Need A Little Taste Of Love”. As with most reunion albums, however, the inertia didn’t last long once the novelty wore off, and the follow-up, 1991’s Brotherhood was pretty flat, for the most part.
Tango In The Night—FLEETWOOD MAC (1987) The Fleetwoods never fully recovered from the monster that was Rumours in ’77, as the subsequent releases Tusk and Mirage paled in comparison, but this album probably came the closest to recapturing their former glory ten years later. Tango yielded several hit singles, including “Big Love” (where it sounds like Stevie Nicks is burping in places), “Everywhere”, “Little Lies” and “Seven Wonders”. “Little Lies” and my personal favorite track, “Isn’t It Midnight?”, may well have been Christine McVie’s best vocal performances ever, apart from “You Make Lovin’ Fun” from Rumours. Lindsey Buckingham’s whispery “You & I” closed the album out, and offered a taste of his future 1992 solo album Out Of The Cradle.
Cloud Nine—GEORGE HARRISON (1987) Don’t mean to pick on Brother George’s religious beliefs here, but I still think it’s fair to point out that his devotion to Hare Krishna teachings and Eastern enlightenment totally bogged down his solo career from the mid-‘70s onward, rendering many of his albums to be preachy and/or morose (not to mention downright boring) at times, thus it was so refreshing to hear the boy lighten up and put out some fun and cheerful music for a change on Cloud Nine, not to mention hearing his trademark slide guitar abounding once again. “Got My Mind Set On You” ain’t much of a song, lyrically (to the point where Weird Al Yankovic later parodied it in “This Song’s Just Six Words Long”), but it was catchy and radio-friendly—a Harrison quality sorely lacking for nearly a decade. “Devil’s Radio” was a minor hit too, as was the nostalgic “When We Was Fab” (on which Ringo Starr played the drums), and the album also received welcome assists from Elton John, Gary "Dream Weaver" Wright, Eric Clapton and ELO’s Jeff Lynne, who co-produced the album. The latter collaboration led to even more fun with the Traveling Wilburys just one year later.
Heart—HEART (1985) Like so many other popular ‘70s FM Rock bands, the Wilson sisters and Co. hit a rough stretch in the early ‘80s when New Wave took over following their ‘70s heyday, and Epic Records dropped them after the disappointing Passionworks LP in 1983. Ann and Nancy kept longtime keyboardist Howard Leese, but jettisoned their old rhythm section in favor of ex-Spirit/Firefall bassist Mark Andes and ex-Montrose drummer Denny Carmassi and landed on their feet at Capitol Records. Not much was expected out of them, but their self-titled album was not only one of the biggest surprises, but one of the biggest records period in 1985. Working with producer Ron Nevison, who had previously engineered The Who’s Quadrophenia and would later produce albums by Ozzy Osbourne, Damn Yankees and Kiss, Heart came through big-time with a very slick-sounding effort that resulted in four Top 10 hit singles (“Never”, “These Dreams”, “What About Love” and “Nothin’ At All”) which were also aided and abetted by heavy rotation on the MTV. As good as those songs were, the “B” stuff here was even better, like “The Wolf”, “Shell Shock”, “All Eyes” and my personal Heart favorite, “If Looks Could Kill”. Ann and Nancy also kept the train a-rollin’ through their next two releases, Bad Animals (1987) and Brigade (1990) before the well finally dried up.
The One—ELTON JOHN (1992) After doing seemingly no wrong in the mid-‘70s, the bottom finally fell out for Elton during the Disco era, with his nadir being when he actually tried doing disco—an ill-advised dance version of Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” in 1979. EJ gradually rebounded in the early ‘80s and regained some of his former glory with Jump Up (1982), Too Low For Zero (1983) and Breaking Hearts (1984). From the mid-‘80s onward, however, that “cat named Hercules” fell into a comfortable rut wherein his albums all kinda sounded the same and he was churning out mediocrity. Some LPs had their moments, and some sold better than others, but he and lyricist Bernie Taupin seemed fairly uninspired most of the time. After taking a break for a couple years after 1989’s fairly bland Sleeping With The Past, the creative spark returned and the result was The One, on which Elton sounded fresher and more relevant than he had in probably 15 years. The album opens with the nice combination of the seductive “Simple Life”, followed by the hit title track. The twangy “Whitewash County” was a nifty change of pace for Elton, as was his duet with Eric Clapton on “Runaway Train”. The album’s closer, the very moving “The Last Song”, all about a gay man reconciling with his estranged father while dying of AIDS, was John/Taupin’s most poignant song since 1982’s “Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)”. EJ’s next CD, 1995’s Made In England wasn’t too shabby, either.
Creatures Of The Night—KISS (1982) I covered this one already in my Kiss album countdown last year, so I won’t belabor the point here. After futzing around for five years with solo albums (two good, two not-so-good), two lightweight Pop-ish records and a bizarre concept album that even the band didn’t fully understand, Kiss finally emerged from their self-inflicted fog-machine haze and put out a fresh slab of crunchy Heavy Metal. It’s even more amazing that this album was as good as it was when you consider that Kiss didn’t even have an official lead guitarist while it was recorded.
No Guts, No Glory—MOLLY HATCHET (1983) Molly Hatchet was poised to replace Lynyrd Skynyrd as the top Southern Rock band by virtue of their outstanding first two albums—Molly Hatchet (1978) and Flirtin’ With Disaster (1979)—but internal squabbling led to singer Danny Joe Brown’s departure from the band (NOT his ongoing problems with diabetes, as their “official” story went). Brown was replaced in 1980 by the rotund Jimmy Farrar, who wasn’t a bad singer at all, but just not quite right for the Hatchet sound—he’d have been a better fit for someone like, say, Marshall Tucker Band. And apart from “Beatin’ The Odds”, “Sailor”, “Bloody Reunion” and a cover of C.C.R.’s “Penthouse Pauper”, the two albums MH recorded with Farrar (Beatin’ The Odds and Take No Prisoners) were forgettable. Thus, the band and Danny Joe “buried the hatchet”, you might say, and he returned for ‘83’s sadly overlooked and underrated set, No Guts…No Glory, my favorite Hatchet album of all. The “Free Bird” clone “Fall Of The Peacemakers” was the album’s centerpiece, sandwiched between hard-rockin’ cuts like “It Just Doesn’t Matter”, “Ain’t Even Close”, “What’s It Gonna Take?” (the story of my love-life) and “Under The Gun”. No Guts… sold poorly, causing the band to panic by adding keyboards and horns and such on their next album, 1984’s The Deed Is Done, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.
Long Distance Voyager—THE MOODY BLUES (1981) The Moodies came back from their prolonged absence following their ‘60s/’70s halcyon days seemingly from out of nowhere with this one. Citing burnout and exhaustion, the band ceased touring and making records after 1972’s Seventh Sojourn, Justin Hayward and John Lodge hooked up again in ’75 for their highly-regarded Blue Jays album, and the full group reunited in ’78 for Octave, but keyboardist Mike Pinder’s heart just wasn’t in the band anymore, so he left halfway through the sessions and was eventually replaced by synthesizer whiz Patrick Moraz. While not nearly as atmospheric and deep as the output from the Moody Blues’ glory days, LDV did have some good stuff like the hits “The Voice” and “Gemini Dream”, along with Lodge’s “Talking Out Of Turn” and Ray Thomas’ “Veteran Cosmic Rocker”. While the Moody Blues' '80s material didn't even come close to the quality of those first seven albums, it was still nice to have them back.
Orgasmatron--MOTÖRHEAD (1986) After their initial run of success from 1978-82, Motörhead went through some personnel changes and record company hassles in the mid-‘80s. Original guitarist “Fast” Eddie Clarke left the band to form Fastway, and was replaced by ex-Thin Lizzy axeman Brian Robertson for one album, the flaccid Another Perfect Day in 1983. “Robbo” fit in about as well as I would at an Osmond family reunion, so Uncle Lemmy sacked him and opted to replace him with two lead guitarists, Phil Campbell and Mick Burston, better known as “Würzel”. Original drummer “Philthy Animal” Taylor also left in 1984 and was replaced by ex-Saxon skinsman Pete Gill. Following the greatest hits package No Remorse that featured four all-new tracks to fulfill their obligation to Bronze Records, Motörhead eventually landed on GWR in 1986 and unleashed Orgasmatron, which was my introduction to this wonderfully raunchy band. In spite of the some rather murky production, all nine tracks on this beast are killers, especially “Deaf Forever”, “Dr. Rock”, “Mean Machine” and “Ridin’ With The Driver”. Without Motörhead, there would be no Metallica, so how come Lemmy and the boys aren’t in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame?
Some Girls (1978)/Voodoo Lounge (1994)—THE ROLLING STONES After several middling studio albums and a totally lifeless double-live release in the mid-‘70s, Mick and Keith and Co. put out their best album in years with Some Girls. Like Kiss and Cheap Trick after them, the Stones dabbled in disco a bit with “Miss You”, but it somehow worked anyway. They also dabbled in old-school R&B with a nice remake of the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination”. They also even dabbled in C&W with the hilarious sing-along, “Far Away Eyes”. And rest of the album was classic Stones, with the venerable favorites “Beast Of Burden”, “When The Whip Comes Down” and “Shattered”. Several more mediocre-to-average studio albums and a couple more crappy live albums ensued throughout the ‘80s before the Stones put together another truly consistent set, Voodoo Lounge in ’94. Voodoo most definitely was not doo-doo, as virtually all 15 tracks were quite sturdy, especially for a band this long in the tooth. The standouts of the lot were “Love Is Strong”, “You Got Me Rockin’”, “Sparks Will Fly”, “I Go Wild” and the weepy “Out Of Tears”, but they saved the best cut for last, the Chuck Berry-esque “Mean Disposition”, wherein Keith Richards was shredding licks that even Chuck would be impressed with. Something tells me that this was probably the last really good record the Stones will ever make.
Tug Of War—PAUL McCARTNEY (1982) Big Macca fell into a slump in the late ‘70s after the highly-successful Wings At The Speed Of Sound, putting out a couple clunkers (London Town and Back To The Egg) before finally clipping Wings for good and going back to being a solo act. 1980’s McCartney II was so-so, but apart from the insipid “Ebony And Ivory” duet with Stevie Wonder, Paul was born-again hard on Tug Of War. Another duet with Wonder, the funky “What’s That You’re Doing?”, was a lot tastier, as was Paul’s duet with the late Carl Perkins on “Get It”. Come to think of it, wouldn’t Perkins have made an excellent replacement for Roy Orbison in the Traveling Wilburys? Anyway, “Take It Away” sounded like vintage McCartney, and “Ballroom Dancing” was another fun track, and Paul was back to making music that was worthy of his legacy. Pity it didn’t last, because he fell right back into the same old rut in ’83 with Pipes Of Peace, featuring another insipid duet, “Say, Say, Say” with Michael Jackson. Oy!
Degüello—Z.Z. TOP (1979) After a dandy six-year run, that Little Ol’ Band From Texas took a break following 1977’s Tejas! album and pretty much disappeared for almost three years. Back in those days, it was rare (and risky) for any band to go more than a year between album releases, for fear of losing their audience. Billy Gibbons and Dusty Hill apparently became allergic to razors of any kind during their hiatus and grew the trademark beards that served to re-invent the band’s image, while the guy named (Frank) Beard decided he didn’t want to look like those two polecats and simply maintained his moustache instead. Meantime, Z.Z. Top picked up where they left off with a potent little platter filled with classics like “Cheap Sunglasses”, “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide”, “Manic Mechanic”, a remake of Sam & Dave’s “I Thank You”, and the bluesy “A Fool For Your Stockings”. Another fun track was “She Loves My Automobile” which featured saxophones for the first time on a Z.Z. Top record. Not wanting to hire outside musicians, Billy, Dusty and Frank actually learned to play the saxes themselves. While they didn’t give the guys in Chicago (the band) anything to fear, the “Lone Wolf Horns” were certainly serviceable. Degüello also set the table for Z.Z. Top to dominate the early ‘80s on Rock radio, and was followed by three more classic albums, El Loco, Eliminator and Afterburner. Have mercy, Miss Percy!
Again, my profoundest apologies for the lack of activity here, but I simply haven’t had the time or creative spark lately to put any blog entries together. While my father’s death a month ago definitely sidetracked me, I’ve also been busy with another project that eats up a lot of my free time, so the blog unfortunately has been on the back burner of late. But, it’s time to hop back in my armchair music critic saddle, and in the spirit of comebacks, I present to you a compilation of my favorite Comeback Albums of all-time. This isn’t a ranking this time, just a nice little round-up in no particular order.
NOTE: I've only included albums that are actually in my collection. I’m sure there are other worthy candidates by folks like Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Crosby Stills Nash and/or Neil Young, et al, but I don’t have enough of their stuff to properly comment on them.
Double Fantasy—JOHN LENNON & YOKO ONO (1980) JL had spent the better part of five years playing daddy and househusband and just plain taking a well-deserved break from the limelight from late, ’75 through late, ‘80, all the while re-charging his creative batteries. Since this was a collaborative effort with Yoko, I don’t really consider this a full-fledged comeback, per se, but it was close enough. Also, this album has always been hard to judge on its true merits because of all the emotions associated with John’s senseless murder. While John had traded in some of his edge for a more melodic and even nostalgic sound, his songs were very poignant and personal here, especially “Watching The Wheels”, “Woman” and “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)”, the latter written for his young son, Sean. “Cleanup Time” was an underrated cut, too. I know JL would disagree, but I really could’ve done without Yoko’s songs on here, apart from maybe “Every Man Has A Woman Who Loves Him”—her voice just grates on me like fingernails on a blackboard and sitar music do. One wonders how much better Double Fantasy would’ve been had it been called Single Fantasy and featured John exclusively.
Spirit Of The Wild—TED NUGENT (1995) Oh, how the mighty had fallen! Fifteen years earlier, The Nuge was at the top of the Rock ‘N’ Roll heap, but the ‘80s weren’t kind to Sweaty Teddy at all. He got off on the wrong foot with the mediocre Scream Dream in 1980, and followed that with his putrid 1981 live album, Intensities In 10 Cities, which was inexplicably ranked #9 on the Guitar World Top 10 Live Albums list—uhhh, better lay off the cough syrup there, fellas. Ted rebounded a bit when he switched labels from Epic to Atlantic in 1982 with Nugent, then a major malaise infected Nugent’s career, marked by constant personnel changes in his band and a string of mediocre-to-dreadful albums through the rest of the decade. Things got so bad that Nugent was even willing to share the spotlight for once by joining forces with Jack Blades and Tommy Shaw to form Damn Yankees in 1989. DY showed promise as a steady unit early on, but disbanded after only two albums in the early ‘90s, with Blades subsequently returning to Night Ranger, Shaw doing likewise with Styx, and Nugent going solo again. Ted wisely reconvened with erstwhile lead singer/rhythm guitarist Derek St. Holmes in 1995 for Spirit Of The Wild, and the result was easily Nugent’s best LP since 1979’s State of Shock. St. Holmes sounded great on “Heart And Soul” and the title track, and Ted was his old cocky self again on “Kiss My Ass”, even though it was a diatribe against liberals of all stripes. However, I merely substitute Bill O’Reilly for Janet Reno while singing along to Ted’s little “roll call” at the end of the song, and we get along just fine. “I Shoot Back” was another standout track, and the album also included a slightly-remixed version of his 1989 hunter’s anthem “Fred Bear”. I’m not much of an outdoorsy-type, but it’s a cool song, all the same. Sadly, all Nugent’s done since that album is be a moronic right-wing extremist bigot and talk out of his ass instead of with his guitar. In the words of Fred Sanford, “I used to like you…dummy!”
Permanent Vacation—AEROSMITH (1987) Like Nugent, Aerosmith was also at the top of the Rock heap in the late ‘70s, but drugs and apathy derailed their career big-time after 1977’s Draw The Line. Guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford both defected in the early ‘80s and were replaced by two nobodies for an album or two until singer Steven Tyler cleaned up his act (sort of, anyway). The comeback was initiated with 1984’s Done With Mirrors (which featured a killer remake of Joe Perry’s solo tune “Let The Music Do The Talking”), and was completed with Permanent Vacation, an album that caught a lot of people by surprise. It contained some cool under-the-radar stuff like “Simoriah”, “Heart’s Done Time” and an instrumental, “The Movie”, as well as yielding several huge hits, including “Rag Doll” and “Dude (Looks Like A Lady)”. Unfortunately, the success of one hit, “Angel”, sent Aerosmith barreling down a bad path they have yet to return from—all their albums since then have contained one or more predictable sappy power ballads, thus rendering most of their output from the last 15 years or so to be almost unlistenable.
Lap Of Luxury—CHEAP TRICK (1988) Ironically, Cheap Trick reached the pinnacle of their career with a power ballad long about the same time Aerosmith did with “Angel”, scoring their first and only #1 hit with “The Flame”. The big difference here is “The Flame” is a far superior song, but also Trick found themselves pigeonholed by the song and found it impossible to duplicate its success. Just as well, I prefer CT as a rockin’ band instead of balladeers anyway, and they found their mojo again on Luxury after a string of spotty releases throughout the ‘80s in the wake of 1979’s classic Dream Police album. Lap also marked the return of bassist Tom Petersson from an extended absence. This record was much more focused than the prior few, and while it had a slick ‘80s sheen to it, I’ve always been partial to it. In addition to “Flame”, the album included a remake of Elvis’ “Don’t Be Cruel” that was a total hoot, as well as the weepy/bluesy “Ghost Town” (on which guitarist Rick Nielsen turns in a credible George Harrison impression in his lead solo) and “All We Need Is A Dream”, which would’ve slotted in perfectly on most any ‘80s teen romance flick. The best track, however, was the Who-like closer, “All Wound Up”, featuring Petersson’s Entwistle-like rumbling bass and Nielsen’s Townshend-like crashing power chords throughout.
The Razor’s Edge—AC/DC (1991) Angus and the boys spent most of the ‘80s in the shadow of their 1980 behemoth, Back In Black. Although their ‘80s albums had their moments now and then—namely “For Those About To Rock”, “Heatseeker”, “That’s The Way I Wanna Rock ‘N’ Roll”, “Shake Your Foundations”, “This Means War” and “Flick Of The Switch”—AC/DC just couldn’t put together any really consistent albums until The Razor’s Edge. I think the reason for this might be in part because late singer Bon Scott was a much better (and wittier) songwriter than his replacement, Brian Johnson. Johnson’s voice had lost a lot of its high end by this point, too, but he sounded a lot better on this record than the previous few, and the material was much better this time round, like the radio hits “Thunderstruck” and “Moneytalks”, as well primo tracks like “Fire Your Guns”, "Rock Your Heart Out" and “Are You Ready?”. They even threw in a yuletide tune, “Mistress For Christmas”. It would be another 17 years before AC/DC made their next consistent CD, 2008’s Black Ice.
Heaven And Hell—BLACK SABBATH (1980) Some hardcore Sabbath fans regard the post-Ozzy era as absolute heresy and totally dismiss Heaven And Hell altogether, but that’s just sour grapes more than anything from all the Osbourne sycophants. His Ozz-ness had become more of a liability than an asset since about the time of 1975’s Sabotage album, and was booted from the band after 1978’s Never Say Die! (which actually had its moments here and there, IMHO), and was replaced by former Rainbow lead singer Ronnie James Dio. H&H was a killer record, especially Side 1 (back when albums had sides, remember kids?), and came charging out of the gate with “Neon Knights”, one of my favorite metal tunes ever. “Children Of The Sea”, “Lady Evil” and the title track filled out the rest of this splendid side, and Side 2’s “Die Young” didn’t suck, either. Too bad the Sabs couldn’t maintain the momentum with the follow-up, Mob Rules, in 1981, which soon triggered the constant revolving door of Black Sabbath lead singers—Dio, Ian Gillan, Glenn Hughes, Tony Martin, Dio again, Rob Halford (for one gig, anyway), Tony Martin again, Ozzy again, Dio again, etc.
Trash—ALICE COOPER (1990) Big Al had been lost in the musical wilderness for well over a decade, and his career was all but dead by the late ‘80s. Too much alcohol—not to mention playing golf with the likes of George Burns and hanging out with too many Hollywood-types—had dulled Alice’s senses and he lost his edge, big-time. He totally wimped-out by the late ‘70s with mushy ballads like “You And Me”, “Only Women Bleed” and “How You Gonna See Me Now?” (the latter co-written by Bernie Taupin during his hiatus from working with Elton John), then AC dabbled in New Wave with 1980’s trippy “Clones (We’re All)” before gradually drifting back to his Hard Rock roots. It took him a few albums to really hit his stride again, and Trash was an outstanding heavy metal slab that included the radio hits “Poison” and “House Of Fire”, along with a couple other gems like “Why Trust You?”, "Spark In The Dark" and “Bed Of Nails”. The album received assists from Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora, Joan Jett and Steven Tyler, as well.
Perfect Strangers—DEEP PURPLE (1984) Now here was a Rock ‘N’ Roll reunion that made you wanna say “What took you guys so long?!?” It had been well over ten years since singer Ian Gillan left Deep Purple following their landmark live set Made In Japan, after which DP endured numerous lineup changes (only drummer Ian Paice has made the entire journey with the band) and by the late ‘70s, the group had disappeared altogether. Sometime in late ’83, someone in the group said, “Whaddya reckon we do this again?” and I have a hunch that Gillan probably jumped at the chance to escape the mistake he’d made by joining Black Sabbath for the ill-fated Born Again album. With old differences put aside and fences mended, the classic Deep Purple Mach II lineup consisting of the two Ians, bassist Roger Glover, keyboardist Jon Lord and guitarist Ritchie Blackmore reformed to produce one of the better albums of 1984, Perfect Strangers. As “Rockline” radio host Bob Coburn proclaimed, “The reality turned out better than the fantasy.” Other than technology, not much had changed sonically for the band in ten years, and it was almost as if they’d never split up in the first place. “Knockin’ At Your Back Door” and the title track were radio hits, and I loved other cuts like “Nobody’s Home”, “Mean Streak” and “Not Responsible”. The reunion lasted through another album, 1987’s The House Of Blue Light, which wasn’t a bad follow-up, but Gillan split the band again and was replaced by erstwhile Blackmore’s Rainbow singer Joe Lynn Turner in 1990.
Cycles—THE DOOBIE BROTHERS (1989) In a similar “What took so long?” scenario, it was almost as if the Brothers Doobie had invented time travel, because if I didn’t know any better, I coulda swore it was 1974 all over again when I first heard this excellent (and very unappreciated) reunion album. The Doobies broke up in the early ‘80s after singer Michael McDonald had neutered them into a wimpy Jazz/Fusion hybrid instead of a true Rock band, but original singer and co-founder Tom Johnston (who has a far more soulful voice than McDonald, IMO) decided he was ready to get back in the game in 1989. TJ got back together with longtime stalwart guitarist Pat Simmons, bassist Tiran Porter, drummer John Harte and percussionist Bobby LaKind (who would die of cancer a couple years afterwards, sadly), and the result far exceeded my expectations. While it’s true that the lead track and first single, “The Doctor”, was clearly a “China Grove” clone, the rest of the record had some really tasty stuff like “One Chain (Don’t Make No Prison)”, “Wrong Number”, “Too High A Price”, "Time Is Here And Gone" and a spiffy cover version of the Isley Bros.’ “Need A Little Taste Of Love”. As with most reunion albums, however, the inertia didn’t last long once the novelty wore off, and the follow-up, 1991’s Brotherhood was pretty flat, for the most part.
Tango In The Night—FLEETWOOD MAC (1987) The Fleetwoods never fully recovered from the monster that was Rumours in ’77, as the subsequent releases Tusk and Mirage paled in comparison, but this album probably came the closest to recapturing their former glory ten years later. Tango yielded several hit singles, including “Big Love” (where it sounds like Stevie Nicks is burping in places), “Everywhere”, “Little Lies” and “Seven Wonders”. “Little Lies” and my personal favorite track, “Isn’t It Midnight?”, may well have been Christine McVie’s best vocal performances ever, apart from “You Make Lovin’ Fun” from Rumours. Lindsey Buckingham’s whispery “You & I” closed the album out, and offered a taste of his future 1992 solo album Out Of The Cradle.
Cloud Nine—GEORGE HARRISON (1987) Don’t mean to pick on Brother George’s religious beliefs here, but I still think it’s fair to point out that his devotion to Hare Krishna teachings and Eastern enlightenment totally bogged down his solo career from the mid-‘70s onward, rendering many of his albums to be preachy and/or morose (not to mention downright boring) at times, thus it was so refreshing to hear the boy lighten up and put out some fun and cheerful music for a change on Cloud Nine, not to mention hearing his trademark slide guitar abounding once again. “Got My Mind Set On You” ain’t much of a song, lyrically (to the point where Weird Al Yankovic later parodied it in “This Song’s Just Six Words Long”), but it was catchy and radio-friendly—a Harrison quality sorely lacking for nearly a decade. “Devil’s Radio” was a minor hit too, as was the nostalgic “When We Was Fab” (on which Ringo Starr played the drums), and the album also received welcome assists from Elton John, Gary "Dream Weaver" Wright, Eric Clapton and ELO’s Jeff Lynne, who co-produced the album. The latter collaboration led to even more fun with the Traveling Wilburys just one year later.
Heart—HEART (1985) Like so many other popular ‘70s FM Rock bands, the Wilson sisters and Co. hit a rough stretch in the early ‘80s when New Wave took over following their ‘70s heyday, and Epic Records dropped them after the disappointing Passionworks LP in 1983. Ann and Nancy kept longtime keyboardist Howard Leese, but jettisoned their old rhythm section in favor of ex-Spirit/Firefall bassist Mark Andes and ex-Montrose drummer Denny Carmassi and landed on their feet at Capitol Records. Not much was expected out of them, but their self-titled album was not only one of the biggest surprises, but one of the biggest records period in 1985. Working with producer Ron Nevison, who had previously engineered The Who’s Quadrophenia and would later produce albums by Ozzy Osbourne, Damn Yankees and Kiss, Heart came through big-time with a very slick-sounding effort that resulted in four Top 10 hit singles (“Never”, “These Dreams”, “What About Love” and “Nothin’ At All”) which were also aided and abetted by heavy rotation on the MTV. As good as those songs were, the “B” stuff here was even better, like “The Wolf”, “Shell Shock”, “All Eyes” and my personal Heart favorite, “If Looks Could Kill”. Ann and Nancy also kept the train a-rollin’ through their next two releases, Bad Animals (1987) and Brigade (1990) before the well finally dried up.
The One—ELTON JOHN (1992) After doing seemingly no wrong in the mid-‘70s, the bottom finally fell out for Elton during the Disco era, with his nadir being when he actually tried doing disco—an ill-advised dance version of Chuck Berry’s “Johnny B. Goode” in 1979. EJ gradually rebounded in the early ‘80s and regained some of his former glory with Jump Up (1982), Too Low For Zero (1983) and Breaking Hearts (1984). From the mid-‘80s onward, however, that “cat named Hercules” fell into a comfortable rut wherein his albums all kinda sounded the same and he was churning out mediocrity. Some LPs had their moments, and some sold better than others, but he and lyricist Bernie Taupin seemed fairly uninspired most of the time. After taking a break for a couple years after 1989’s fairly bland Sleeping With The Past, the creative spark returned and the result was The One, on which Elton sounded fresher and more relevant than he had in probably 15 years. The album opens with the nice combination of the seductive “Simple Life”, followed by the hit title track. The twangy “Whitewash County” was a nifty change of pace for Elton, as was his duet with Eric Clapton on “Runaway Train”. The album’s closer, the very moving “The Last Song”, all about a gay man reconciling with his estranged father while dying of AIDS, was John/Taupin’s most poignant song since 1982’s “Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)”. EJ’s next CD, 1995’s Made In England wasn’t too shabby, either.
Creatures Of The Night—KISS (1982) I covered this one already in my Kiss album countdown last year, so I won’t belabor the point here. After futzing around for five years with solo albums (two good, two not-so-good), two lightweight Pop-ish records and a bizarre concept album that even the band didn’t fully understand, Kiss finally emerged from their self-inflicted fog-machine haze and put out a fresh slab of crunchy Heavy Metal. It’s even more amazing that this album was as good as it was when you consider that Kiss didn’t even have an official lead guitarist while it was recorded.
No Guts, No Glory—MOLLY HATCHET (1983) Molly Hatchet was poised to replace Lynyrd Skynyrd as the top Southern Rock band by virtue of their outstanding first two albums—Molly Hatchet (1978) and Flirtin’ With Disaster (1979)—but internal squabbling led to singer Danny Joe Brown’s departure from the band (NOT his ongoing problems with diabetes, as their “official” story went). Brown was replaced in 1980 by the rotund Jimmy Farrar, who wasn’t a bad singer at all, but just not quite right for the Hatchet sound—he’d have been a better fit for someone like, say, Marshall Tucker Band. And apart from “Beatin’ The Odds”, “Sailor”, “Bloody Reunion” and a cover of C.C.R.’s “Penthouse Pauper”, the two albums MH recorded with Farrar (Beatin’ The Odds and Take No Prisoners) were forgettable. Thus, the band and Danny Joe “buried the hatchet”, you might say, and he returned for ‘83’s sadly overlooked and underrated set, No Guts…No Glory, my favorite Hatchet album of all. The “Free Bird” clone “Fall Of The Peacemakers” was the album’s centerpiece, sandwiched between hard-rockin’ cuts like “It Just Doesn’t Matter”, “Ain’t Even Close”, “What’s It Gonna Take?” (the story of my love-life) and “Under The Gun”. No Guts… sold poorly, causing the band to panic by adding keyboards and horns and such on their next album, 1984’s The Deed Is Done, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.
Long Distance Voyager—THE MOODY BLUES (1981) The Moodies came back from their prolonged absence following their ‘60s/’70s halcyon days seemingly from out of nowhere with this one. Citing burnout and exhaustion, the band ceased touring and making records after 1972’s Seventh Sojourn, Justin Hayward and John Lodge hooked up again in ’75 for their highly-regarded Blue Jays album, and the full group reunited in ’78 for Octave, but keyboardist Mike Pinder’s heart just wasn’t in the band anymore, so he left halfway through the sessions and was eventually replaced by synthesizer whiz Patrick Moraz. While not nearly as atmospheric and deep as the output from the Moody Blues’ glory days, LDV did have some good stuff like the hits “The Voice” and “Gemini Dream”, along with Lodge’s “Talking Out Of Turn” and Ray Thomas’ “Veteran Cosmic Rocker”. While the Moody Blues' '80s material didn't even come close to the quality of those first seven albums, it was still nice to have them back.
Orgasmatron--MOTÖRHEAD (1986) After their initial run of success from 1978-82, Motörhead went through some personnel changes and record company hassles in the mid-‘80s. Original guitarist “Fast” Eddie Clarke left the band to form Fastway, and was replaced by ex-Thin Lizzy axeman Brian Robertson for one album, the flaccid Another Perfect Day in 1983. “Robbo” fit in about as well as I would at an Osmond family reunion, so Uncle Lemmy sacked him and opted to replace him with two lead guitarists, Phil Campbell and Mick Burston, better known as “Würzel”. Original drummer “Philthy Animal” Taylor also left in 1984 and was replaced by ex-Saxon skinsman Pete Gill. Following the greatest hits package No Remorse that featured four all-new tracks to fulfill their obligation to Bronze Records, Motörhead eventually landed on GWR in 1986 and unleashed Orgasmatron, which was my introduction to this wonderfully raunchy band. In spite of the some rather murky production, all nine tracks on this beast are killers, especially “Deaf Forever”, “Dr. Rock”, “Mean Machine” and “Ridin’ With The Driver”. Without Motörhead, there would be no Metallica, so how come Lemmy and the boys aren’t in the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame?
Some Girls (1978)/Voodoo Lounge (1994)—THE ROLLING STONES After several middling studio albums and a totally lifeless double-live release in the mid-‘70s, Mick and Keith and Co. put out their best album in years with Some Girls. Like Kiss and Cheap Trick after them, the Stones dabbled in disco a bit with “Miss You”, but it somehow worked anyway. They also dabbled in old-school R&B with a nice remake of the Temptations’ “Just My Imagination”. They also even dabbled in C&W with the hilarious sing-along, “Far Away Eyes”. And rest of the album was classic Stones, with the venerable favorites “Beast Of Burden”, “When The Whip Comes Down” and “Shattered”. Several more mediocre-to-average studio albums and a couple more crappy live albums ensued throughout the ‘80s before the Stones put together another truly consistent set, Voodoo Lounge in ’94. Voodoo most definitely was not doo-doo, as virtually all 15 tracks were quite sturdy, especially for a band this long in the tooth. The standouts of the lot were “Love Is Strong”, “You Got Me Rockin’”, “Sparks Will Fly”, “I Go Wild” and the weepy “Out Of Tears”, but they saved the best cut for last, the Chuck Berry-esque “Mean Disposition”, wherein Keith Richards was shredding licks that even Chuck would be impressed with. Something tells me that this was probably the last really good record the Stones will ever make.
Tug Of War—PAUL McCARTNEY (1982) Big Macca fell into a slump in the late ‘70s after the highly-successful Wings At The Speed Of Sound, putting out a couple clunkers (London Town and Back To The Egg) before finally clipping Wings for good and going back to being a solo act. 1980’s McCartney II was so-so, but apart from the insipid “Ebony And Ivory” duet with Stevie Wonder, Paul was born-again hard on Tug Of War. Another duet with Wonder, the funky “What’s That You’re Doing?”, was a lot tastier, as was Paul’s duet with the late Carl Perkins on “Get It”. Come to think of it, wouldn’t Perkins have made an excellent replacement for Roy Orbison in the Traveling Wilburys? Anyway, “Take It Away” sounded like vintage McCartney, and “Ballroom Dancing” was another fun track, and Paul was back to making music that was worthy of his legacy. Pity it didn’t last, because he fell right back into the same old rut in ’83 with Pipes Of Peace, featuring another insipid duet, “Say, Say, Say” with Michael Jackson. Oy!
Degüello—Z.Z. TOP (1979) After a dandy six-year run, that Little Ol’ Band From Texas took a break following 1977’s Tejas! album and pretty much disappeared for almost three years. Back in those days, it was rare (and risky) for any band to go more than a year between album releases, for fear of losing their audience. Billy Gibbons and Dusty Hill apparently became allergic to razors of any kind during their hiatus and grew the trademark beards that served to re-invent the band’s image, while the guy named (Frank) Beard decided he didn’t want to look like those two polecats and simply maintained his moustache instead. Meantime, Z.Z. Top picked up where they left off with a potent little platter filled with classics like “Cheap Sunglasses”, “I’m Bad, I’m Nationwide”, “Manic Mechanic”, a remake of Sam & Dave’s “I Thank You”, and the bluesy “A Fool For Your Stockings”. Another fun track was “She Loves My Automobile” which featured saxophones for the first time on a Z.Z. Top record. Not wanting to hire outside musicians, Billy, Dusty and Frank actually learned to play the saxes themselves. While they didn’t give the guys in Chicago (the band) anything to fear, the “Lone Wolf Horns” were certainly serviceable. Degüello also set the table for Z.Z. Top to dominate the early ‘80s on Rock radio, and was followed by three more classic albums, El Loco, Eliminator and Afterburner. Have mercy, Miss Percy!
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