According to me, some ding dong on the Internet.
They said bagpipes could never work in rock music. They were wrong.
Everything you need to know about the late Bon Scott in three and half minutes: he’s charming, he’s got a strong voice, he’s in control, he might sock you in the face if you give him any guff. Very Sinatra, in a way, and it isn’t hard to imagine Frank putting his spin on this rakish bruiser. Of course, the Old Man woulda cut the “oi” chant, on accounta it ain’t classy.
AC/DC rewrite “T.N.T.” with the new angle: “what if we were mean, but like, professionally, as a commercial service?” The damn thing works, right down to the anguished scream that punctuates the ending.
Yes, I’m counting these as one song. “Rocker” is a hilarious freewheeling apology for the juvenile “Balls”—it’s AC/DC saying, “listen, we’re just dirty rockers, what did you expect? We’ve happily wasted one of our best slower arrangements on a drawn out testicle joke.” I realize “Rocker” did not make its debut backing up “Balls” on Dirty Deeds; I know it came out a year earlier on T.N.T. and that it only appears on the international version of Deeds, but I refuse to apologize for not being Australian. Besides, as noted, this pairing gels like Moe’s hand and Curly’s forehead.
As satisfying as watching a golden retriever chase its tail. Knocks over as much furniture, too.
A celebration of the zaftig woman built around one of history’s most shit-kicking guitar riffs. If you can’t boogie to this get the hell out of my car wash.
The sinner’s anthem, but it’s hard to tell where the protagonist is emotionally. Is he joyous? Is he resigned? Is he daring to exercise irony? It doesn’t matter when that hymnal of a chorus kicks in.
Catchy strut of blues cloaked in darkness not just because it’s about murder but because AC/DC denied it being about murder after a murderer cited it as inspiration to murder. Does that compel me to keep returning? Sure, but so does the musical performance, and I remain more mystified by Bon Scott’s decision to end the tune by impersonating Mork from Ork. If this song is really so evil Richard Ramirez would have also tried to kill Pam Dawber.
A monster truck being driven by a grizzly bear in sunglasses, crushing your fears and doubts and delivering you a sizzlin’ onion burst of empowerment. I don’t know, you try to explain the omnipresence and worth of the ultimate “hard rock” song.
This band wrote a lot of material about their dicks. This selection is the least stupid. Also, for some strange reason, I’m really partial to the lyric about the “baaaaad man cruisin’ around in a big black limousine.” Maybe that’s what I aspire to, secretly.
– I’ve never been a huge Eagles fan and this three hour doc didn’t change that, though now I’m inclined to give them respect for being another band committed to their own sound; they never kowtowed to industry pressure, they just kept doin’ that Eagles thang and let success land on them
– three hours and not one reference to the “Desperado”/”Witchy Woman” plot lines on “Seinfeld”; guess most of the Eagles weren’t too thrilled with all that
– I want to say I can’t believe there was a period where these guys had their own baseball jackets emblazoned with an “E” on the front but they also had their own plane so maybe matching jackets weren’t so crazy
– I love how proud Glenn Fry is that Cameron Crowe immediately thought of him when he was trying to figure who could play a jerkier dude than Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire
– Don Henley gives off a R’as al Ghul vibe during his talking head portions (it could just be the goatee and black turtleneck)
– at one point Glenn Fry refers to Don Felder as “the biggest asshole” in the Eagles; maybe he’s right, we don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, but I’m taking Felder’s side for now because he’s the only one in the doc who tears up while discussing all this discord (I also disagree with Fry’s assertion he and Henley deserved more cash for the reunion b/c they had solo hits)
– there are two guys named Don in this band, what are the goddamn odds?
– Timothy B. Schmit seems like a Jon Wurster character
– it hit me in the feels when they showed that note Joe Walsh’s kids wrote about how proud they are of him
– Linda Ronstadt seems cool; shame she’s too sick to sing anymore
– as suspected, they play one of those guitars with two necks on “Hotel California” (b/c hiring a fourth guitarist would have just been fucking nuts)
All the best this blog had to offer from the Year of the Horse. Shalom.
Artisanal Life Hack (Sorry Not Sorry): 2013 In Review
Unsolicited Notes/Thoughts On We’re A Happy Family
JG2’s Top Ten Albums & Singles Of 2013
Unsolicited Thoughts On The Price Of Gold
Q: Have You Met Carrot Top?
Derisive Names You Can Use For The Super Bowl
Area Man Acknowledges Ninja Turtle Reboot
Greg Rivera: The JG2Land Interview
“You Traded Peña?”
Unsolicited Thoughts/Notes On Dookie 20 Years Later
In Praise Of Harold Ramis
Unsolicited Thoughts/Notes On Going Berserk
An Annotated History Of Never Realized Book Projects
2001: A Ranch Odyssey
Commence au Festival
“You Really Embarrassed Me Tonight At Red Lobster.”
On Erdélyi Tamás
Mashed Potatoes Can Be Your Friends
Fifteen Hall Of Fame Drummers From The Past Score & Five
Unsolicited Thoughts/Notes On Grease 2
Boo, I Tellsya: The Absolute Toppest Horror Movies
Monte Melnick: The JG2Land Interview
Unsolicited Musings On GTA V
Unsolicited Blah Blah Blah On “The Larry Sanders Show”
Ancient Central Florida Secret: The Splendid China Winn-Dixie
Unsolicited Free Floating Vapors On Feigbusters
Unsolicited Musings On Humanoids From The Deep
– this post is largely a reaction to episode three of the “Henry & Heidi” podcast wherein the titular Henry (Rollins) talks through the history of Rollins Band, a welcome discussion considering how often this group is neglected
– Rollins Band is a great example of how working hard and sticking to your guns always pays off in the long run, by which I mean you can play dissonant funk metal in your boxers and if you’re honest and don’t cop out eventually they’ll put you on MTV and the Grammys and Dennis Miller’s talk show
– during this oral recap Henry does not even give passing mention to the handful of years at the tail end of Rollins Band where Mother Superior was his backing group; this must mean the two albums from that period, Get Some Go Again and Nice, are to be considered non-canon
– re-evaluating the entire RB discography, End Of Silence has my favorite textures and moods, and overall it’s one of the most solid rock albums of its era, but when the urge to hear this unit strikes me the gut reaction is to reach for Drive By Shooting b/c it’s looser, darker, more “out there” (in filmspeak: Scorsese is the master but the slapdash of Tarantino is a bit more fun)
– interesting to learn about the heavy stuff going on circa Come In And Burn; you’d never know it from their 1997 “SNL” appearance, which belongs in the pile of that show’s legendary musical performances; first time I saw them rip through “Starve” in 8H I thought they were gonna melt the studio’s walls
– surprise: Rollins Band didn’t even want to record “Liar,” their biggest hit; it was just some goof song they did at practices until some industry person heard it and said, “That’s your next single!”
– when I saw Rollins Band in ’02 they were in a period where they weren’t playing “Liar,” which bummed me out, but they did encore with a handful of Ramones songs; if you think Rollins is intense normally you should see the guy doing “Blitzkrieg Bop” (Henry’s preamble to “BB”: “If I’m ever elected president, this will be the new national anthem”)
– trigger warning: if you listen to the podcast ep linked above, before you hear anything about Rollins Band you’re gonna hafta endure a somewhat gross story about Rollins having a hernia and not realizing it
– watching this special you’d never know exactly how rebellious “Saturday Night Live” was at its inception or various other points in history; every clip package was a parade of smash cuts set to a steady beat, like a home run highlight reel, which robbed many classic moments of the comedic tension that made them so memorable in the first place; three and a half hours and they didn’t even show the very first “SNL” sketch in its entirety (“I would like to feed your fingertips to the wolverines”), the program’s mission statement, still one of the weirdest things that’s ever been on television
– there was so much hoo-ha about Eddie Murphy making an appearance, finally burying whatever cold hatchet he had with “SNL”/his “SNL” legacy, but he didn’t do anything, he just came out and expressed some gratitude while making very awkward clapping gestures; maybe Eddie does have a disease that prevents him from being funny these days
– Joe Piscopo seemed as stiff and unhappy as the real elderly Sinatra; I’m sure he was hoping for a tearful on camera reunion with Murphy; I’m sure he burst a blood vessel during Chris Rock’s monologue about Murphy being “SNL’s” Superman (Rock wasn’t wrong, though)
– Wayne’s World remains the most profitable “SNL” spin-off so we’re going to have to endure Wayne and Garth reunion sketches (no matter how pointless or meandering) until Mike Myers and Dana Carvey are both dead (if Carvey dies first I’d put major cash on Myers replacing him with Bill Hader); I wish they’d let the characters age, I’m far more interested to see Wayne at fifty
– Kanye seemed pretty excited to be caught in Wayne’s World
– the best part of “SNL 40″ was of course an unscripted moment: Norm Macdonald trying to swerve the Chevy Chase introduction into the nearest ditch, a fine reminder of how brutally unsentimental the show can be (times like that are when “SNL” is tops) and how you can always rely on Norm
– related to that last point: it was wild to see the varying levels of talent on display, in the sense that you have to give Fred Armisen some kind of prop or character but Norm or Bill Murray can just come out and be themselves and everyone’s delighted
– it was cool to see Jane Curtain Weekend Updating with Tina and Amy
– it was cool to see Ellen Cleghorne
– it was not cool to see famous people “covering” their favorite characters
– I don’t know how to feel about Miley Cyrus as an entertainer or a human but she clearly has talent, by which I mean she made me give a shit about a Paul Simon song; I’d buy that rendition on vinyl
– the audience kept the applause at fair levels throughout the dead person montage; doesn’t feel like anyone was slighted, and they chose really wonderful/wonderfully evocative photos of each figure
– all those fucking montages and not one devoted entirely to the rich history of musical performance on “SNL”; sorry, legendary artists who so often were the only bits of the program worth watching, this “Californians” sketch has to be eight decades long
– ego probably prevented a lot of great comedy from happening
– “SNL” has constructed a successful enough business model that it may never go off the air; I’d like it to, only to see if another comedic incubator of its caliber would ever come along
– what a shame [obscure cast member] didn’t get any shoutouts
– every year we endure the Grammys and every year a not insignificant number of people are outraged when the awards fly wildly off target, as if this ceremony has ever accurately reflected anything
– theories abound that Beck’s Album of The Year win last night was the voting body’s mea culpa for snubbing his genius work Odelay! nearly two decades ago; there should just be a category called “Oops!” wherein they grant themselves the opportunity to reverse decisions from years past
– I think we all appreciate Kanye going through the motions for us
– wouldn’t it be great if all this lead to a Beck/Beyoncé collaboration?
– Beck: Scientologist; Beyoncé: Illuminati demigod; they each have five Grammys now, so let’s end this pointless conflict and get back to uncovering the evidence that will prove Lorde is actually in her late forties
…In addition to fishing unused jelly packets out of the trash to rinse off and put back on the dining room tables (previously referenced in this post); what a feeling it is to watch an oblivious diner fiddle with a little plastic bin of grape jelly you rescued just fifteen minutes prior from a muggy grave of chewed hash browns and sausage upchuck.
– the dish washer who was obsessed with Dream Theater and tried to convert me every night
– the dish washer who was obsessed with Canibus and was constantly complaining about ringtone rappers
– the regular customer who always brought his own tiny briefcase of specialized condiments
– the other bus boy who exclusively addressed me as “James Bond Jr.”
– my employee evaluation; the only negative bit was “needs to smile more”
– the day I wore Converse to work instead of my regulation grease-proof boots to prove some kind of point (i.e. I won’t CONFORM to YOUR WORLD, oppressors); I slid around on the kitchen floor the entire night
– the Billy Drago-esque manager who raced Kawasaki motorcycles in his spare time and who could never walk out the back door without taking a deep breath, looking up at the clouds, and saying, “What a beautiful day to die!” (he was later fired for sexual harassment)
– being scheduled weekday mornings and having jack shit to bus
– being scheduled on Sundays and feeling like I was in trench warfare
– never being too mad about the servers not sharing their tips because they all had families to support and I was just some bozo in college
– the in-store satellite radio playing the craziest post-grunge (deep cuts from Green Day’s Nimrod, the 1999 Alice in Chains “reunion” song, etc)
– getting pied in the face on my last day of work by one of the servers (it was a hearty apple pie and I had pieces of fruit caught in my hair for hours)
– running into the lead manager at a nearby Waffle House several weeks after I quit; she told me I was a great employee and that I could come back any time (this was very nice to hear)
I’ve not set foot in that Perkins or any other since hanging up my bus tub.