Comedy, Commentary, Criticisms, Chicago Bears, Cats, Careers, Comics, Classic Rock, and Clues About Life. (Alliteration not allowed...)
Monday, July 25, 2005
Face It, You've Been Had.
“In The Moonlight—Fighting With the Night; It’s a Rip Off”
--Marc Bolan of T. Rex, 1971.
Last year, I was selected by the Chicago Bears radio call-in show to win an Anthony Thomas Ball, some Diamond Nuts, and a Diamond Nut bag. Now I will let the “nut bag” joke go because I run a clean show here, but I was feeling pretty good about myself.
Three weeks later, no nut bag, no Anthony Thomas, and no nuts. By the way, that description was me and not the Chicago Bears, although all three expressions may have applied for the team last fall. I called the director of marketing and sure enough, they made a mistake and forgot to send it out. A week later, I was given my nut bag, the nuts, and a ball signed by Marty Booker…Marty Booker? He wasn’t even on the Bears last year. I mean, come on, now. So the radio station has autographed balls of former players lying around to “pass” to the unsuspecting public? How cheap, how lame, how utterly irritating. I suppose I should be grateful for something, but MARTY BOOKER? He was not even good enough to start for the Dolphins, and they STINK!
So I thought of other great rip offs and see if you agree:
“Free” education—well no, you see as a teacher I can point this out—I am paid by TAXES—there is no such thing as free education in this country unless you do not pay taxes and then you go to jail.
Cable Television—yes, they raise their rates, they own monopolies, and they always seem to prevent me from watching channels I want to watch. I wanted TVLAND as an example and my cable company said no for some odd reason. I figure, why not delete one of the five (count ‘em—five) country music channels and let me have TVLAND, but no way. We could not do such a horrid thing. I switched to Satellite and like it better—except when it rains.
Satellite TV—when it rains.
“18% Gratuity added for parties over seven people” at restaurants. What a rip-off. Suppose the waiter stinks, so now I STILL have to give a tip because he may have to work harder. I thought a tip was my discretion, but apparently it is not. So I can expect a larger salary if I teach a class over 26 students (Illinois state class size average)? Uh-huh—I average 28-32 kids per class per semester in three of six of my classes. Show me the MONEY.
Scratch Lottery tickets—have you ever met someone who won really big bucks on one of these things? Me neither. Rip Off.
Timers in Drive-Thru’s—unreal. There are a few places in our town where they have installed timers. If the kid takes 12 seconds or 12 minutes to hand me my order, it really does not matter, as I have no upside. Now if they offered a timer when, if the kid does not bring me my order in three minutes, I have the right to give him mild electro-shock until he does so; THEN you have something exciting. Otherwise, it just annoys me to watch the counter going.
Buy-One, Get One Free Produce—usually this is done for big produce items like five pounds of strawberries. Read dates on this one as well, because the expiration of the strawberries is usually within a day or so and no one can eat ten pounds of strawberries in a day and a half. I think they do this to save time for the kid working at the market of your choice not to have throw it away.
Ho-Ho’s—check the fat content. That little crummy cake has more fat and calories than a MEAL at Subway. Weight Watchers influence here, folks.
Restaurants that charge for refills—This is just EVIL. It costs less than a dime for the beverage (beer excluded of course) and they fill it half full with ice (i.e. water) and charge you $1.50-$2.00 and then they charge you for a refill. Next time order the refill and “get your money’s worth” by throwing it the manager’s face.
Gas Prices—No Comments needed.
“Educational” Toys—I was never given these, so maybe I would have ended up more intelligent if I had them, but I would not have had as much fun as a child. What a rotten trick to do to children.
“Politically correct people” who are too tight—I love it when I tell a joke, and then people laugh, think about it, and then make comments. I admit, when I saw “Timmy” the first time on South Park, I was mortified, only AFTER I laughed at the joke for a half hour—then I felt guilty. The other day I told this joke to a friend: Question—what do you call a dog with wings? Answer—Linda McCartney. The friend laughed, then stopped and called me a “sick bastard” because “she died you know…” Yeah I know, lighten up.
Beer Use—I was told (probably by Beer companies) that a beer a day helps the heart. Since my recent heart surgery, my doctors told me to limit it to three beers a week. Hmm…someone is being dishonest to me. I have weighed this issue by looking at corporate greed and complete profit margins from beer companies who could not care less for the health of the consumer with that of the wisdom and intellect and degrees of the doctors; and in so doing, I am wondering why the doctors are lying to me.
The Telephone—you ARE aware that if you own it, have it sit in your house, and NEVER USE it; it costs forty dollars per month. I have to pay forty dollars a month for the “privilege” of having wires in my house that were already in place when I moved in? Please. And when I call operator assistance, I am sent to an automatic voice or given to a person who knows less than I know.
The Chicago Cubs—Ok, many people have been fans since the turn of the century and have NEVER seen them win the World Series. Worst is the fact that generations of fans fill that ballpark every day. They lose, and we still come. Unreal how misguided the ownership is and how idiotic the fans are. By the way, GO CUBBIES!
College “Student Fees”—translation, thanks for bulking our wallets. Illinois State University always had fees for the right to take a class. The professors of ISU—some of which are friends of mine—are severely underpaid. The fees go to such things as “flowers on campus” which mysteriously disappear after Preview Days when new parents arrive, student athletic scholarships (when has ISU ever WON anything and they are in horrible basketball and football conferences?), and the Deans who live in houses much too extravagant to be in my neighborhood.
College Book Stores—Ok, follow this logic. You take a class, pay $120 for a book, sell it back at the end of the semester because you are no longer under the delusion that “you will use it someday” (heh heh), and they give you $15.00 for the book. Then, next semester you go back to the bookstore and see that they are selling it for $100.00 as a used book. Someone is making a huge profit here. They then give the person who bought it used for $100.00, $10.00 back and then resell it for $90.00. Follow the math. They buy the book for $60 (and I am being kind here) and give money back at low rates and make $230.00 per book? WOW! Multiply that for ALL OF THE BOOKS IN ALL OF THE CLASSES. English Majors: the time is now to stand up and fight!
Musicians and artists that cross genres—How horrible is it to hear Elvis Costello doing torch songs, Paul McCartney writing orchestral compositions or Rod Stewart doing Broadway tunes—listen up—THE “CLASSIC MUSIC” OR “JAZZ” FANBASE WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU, any more so than heavy metal guys liking Pat Boone (remember that one); so knock it off and quit ripping off the obsessive fans who buy all of your material.
Contractors who leave—They give me an estimate of time, they start, and they are NEVER close to finishing when they say they will. And once they tear up the house, what can you do? You obviously cannot fix it yourself (hence the reason you hired them), so you wait as they “get calls” for other jobs. I just imagine them sitting a truck, eating donuts, and laughing at my expense.
Greatest Hits or Best of CD’s—Call it what it is: the songs are singles. I own more than a few “best of” CDs and they never are the best—they just are the singles that the MOR public likes. And those “Hits of Whatever Decade You Want Here” things that put two or three singles matched with 20 songs that they fill in the gaps of time with are the MOST ANNOYING.
And the greatest rip-off—Blog sites that give any idiot a voice in the world.
I recently bought a book that I really enjoyed and kept me laughing for more than a few moments at a time. The book is Kill Your Idols. It is a “new generation of rock writers who reconsider the classic rock albums.” There are lines in this book that are on the floor funny. Examples include from Tom Phalen’s attack on Ram by Paul and Linda McCartney “Ram on –I’m guessing this is sort of a title tune—is irritating. George Harrison’s fascination with the ukulele—I know in his final days he was reportedly giving them to all of his friends (a sure sign that her days were, indeed, final)—doesn’t justify its place on any album that claims to be rock, or for that matter, anything else. Twink-a, Twink-a, Twink-a …” It had me thinking. It is time for me to admit that a few of my “would be favorite albums or artists,” with time and reconsideration past the pimpled-face dreams of youth, are quite frankly lousy. I am listing five albums that I now admit are horrid and list a few artists that I have reconsidered as annoying.
The rules are simple. First, I have to have owned or currently own the album. Second, I have to avoid the obvious crummy artists like Night Ranger, Bryan Adams, or Huey Lewis and I have to avoid “period” pieces groups like Culture Club or Dee-Lite. I mean, stating that these guys “suck” is apparent to anyone with any taste and besides, they are hardly idols. The last rule is that I have, is that at least at some point, I admit that I liked the album. Again, I try to avoid the “worst” album by an established artist—as everyone has a clinker. I mean as an Elvis Costello fan, it is easy for me to rip on Good Bye Cruel World or Mighty Like A Rose, but all EC fans know that these are his weakest efforts.
Post a comment if you wish of your admittedly “kill your idols” selections.
Here are my top five worst albums by established artists or artists that I like and once liked the albums.
#5. Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here. Elevator music on acid. This is the worst of a band that, with time, has grown increasingly out of date. I remember the first time I heard it, I thought it was so deep and mystifying. I must have been drunk. Now I cannot even fathom listening to it. Admittedly, “Have a Cigar” is catchy, but compare it to other Pink Floyd works, and it does not hold up at all. “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” is absolutely too long and much too much to dreadful to consider as ‘rock” in any sense. “Welcome to the Machine” is almost comical as the whole album is Waters telling us how horrible it is to be a big time rock star and how fragile he and his fellow cronies (specifically Syd Barrett) are. Yawn. I feel more pity to someone making less than a million dollars a year to be honest. Rock music, I am sure, can lead to isolation and paranoia, it’s just that this album speeds up the trip.
#4. The Ramones End of The Century. I love the Ramones, as they are the greatest punk band ever. I love the song hooks, the “so simple its great” concept, and the fact that they never took themselves too seriously—well except for this once. With Phil Spector producing this pile of crap, it is apparent that he has no idea what the Ramones are about or should sound like. Highly glossy production on a Ramones album is like putting a prom dress on a pig in the mud. “Rock and Roll Radio” is excellent (what is it doing here?), but the rest of the album is uninspired and unimaginative. It is also slow and full of fake filler—hardly the thing a punk band at their height should do. The remake of Rock and Roll High School (hey Joey Ramone, do a rock song without “Rock and Roll” in the title to remind us that its suppose to be rock and roll) is dull and wretched compared to the original.
#3. The Beatles Let It Be. I know, putting The Beatles on this list is somewhat sacrilegious, but let’s be fair—this is the Beatles at their worst. Again Phil Spector produced (maybe I just hate this allegedly murdering bastard), this is a horrid attempt by a group of such magnitude and importance. Over-produced Long and Winding Road (Paul tried to correct on Naked to no avail because the song simply sucks) is probably the most representative song on the album—the Beatles were going through the motions. “Two Of Us,” “I Me Mine,” “I Dig a Pony,” “Maggie May,” “Dig It” are done by the same group that produced “Yesterday,” “Here Comes The Sun,” “Help,” “Hey Jude” and more? Unbelievable. Perhaps Paul’s prodding and annoying refusal to understand that Yoko did not kill the dream, they all did (although it is sure fun to blame Yoko) is the true answer to why they broke up. But with lifeless efforts like this, aren’t you glad they called it quits before they became real has-beens (like they did in their solo careers)?
#2. The Doors first album. If anyone can sit through the full version of Light My Fire, they are a better person than me. Annoying song after annoying song fills this horrid album. I admit to being in high school and thinking “Break On Through” and “The End” were fascinating, but go back and give them a re-listen. Lord, they are lyrically banal and excessively obscure. This band would win my “worst of the 1960’s” group award for this album alone, yet these schmoes made even more boring music to match. I guess one needs to be totally drunk or something to understand them. The keyboards are so horrible, it reminds me of listening to bad circus music and the lyrics are so busy trying to be clever, then end up being pretentious and fake. I love a monotone voice like Morrison’s as much as the next guy (because it’s so easy to imitate) but let’s face it, the drums and guitars are so out of place, it is almost as if they musicians are playing a different song than what Jim Morrison is singing. You want an example of what was wrong with the late 1960s, look no further.
#1. The Who Tommy. I love the Who and have always given them more credit than they probably deserve—I mean ten studio albums since 1965 and they still are touring??? Let’s ignore the countless greatest hits albums and live albums for a moment and focus on their rock opera. Tommy is the story of the deaf, dumb, and blind boy who witnesses a murder when his father, believed to be dead, comes back and kills the man his mother marries because she thought her husband was dead; only to be told not to see hear or talk about the murder. He later plays pinball and then is lifted to a God-like prophet status because he can play pinball and has followers. Understand the story? You neither, huh? I mean, how stupid is this? Match this up with a double album of nonsense and filler and you have the album that launched The WHO to superstar standards. In this album we have a loud and annoying French horn, dumb songs about acid queens, a sick molesting uncle, a mean cousin who burns a handicapped boy with his Pall Malls, Smashing Mirrors to reveal one’s true self (must be a vampire), and a girl who is gashed in her face because she wants to touch her idol. Also add the obvious jokes for lyrics like “see me, feel me, touch me, heal me…” and it is apparent that this album has not aged gracefully. I mean, The WHO get credit for trying something different, but the strained vocals of Roger Daltrey, the systematic incoherence of Pete Townshend, the almost missing of the great bass work of John Entwhistle, and the incredible drumming (although out of place on a “concept” album) of Keith Moon make this an unlikely triumph. Play it again and I defy you not to make fun of it. I like “Amazing Journey/Sparks,” “Pinball Wizard,” “I’m Free,” and the chorus of “Listening to you…” but there are some really horrible moments on this album. Play the song “Christmas” or “1921” or “Welcome To The Camp” and I dare you not to laugh. Then you’ll know where the put the cork, as well as the eyeshades and earphones.
Runners Up First Boston album—sure we all own it, but have you played it recently? Dated and dull.
Kinks—Low Budget. Yep, the Kinks do disco.
Rolling Stones—Its Only Rock and Roll. Bad pseudo 1970s funk with an amazingly lousy production.
The Cure—Kiss Kiss Kiss. I love the Cure, but no excuse for “happy” Cure songs.
The Cars—first album. Talk about over-used clichés. Everything sounds the same and is very overproduced. Greg Hawkes has my award for most limited keyboard player ever.
Jethro Tull-Aqualung. Ian Anderson’s silly view of religion recorded in what sounds like a dungeon. Even I am annoyed by the flute on this one and I LOVE TULL.
Queen—The Game. I like Queen a great deal, but this album is so boring that the hits even annoy me. Queen does disco on Another On Bites the Dust. This was the first of many bad Queen albums (Hot Space, The Works, The Miracle to name a few)
Worst artists: Sting. Listen to The Police again. What draws you to them? Probably he drums and guitars. Sting’s whiney voice and his lackluster bass playing is the least impressive thing about the band. Admittedly after watching interviews, Stewart Copeland is as mature as a day-old weed, but he can still play drums. Sting solo albums are horrid and offer nothing other than boring pseudo jazz/pop. Yuck. Plus his voice is whining throughout the entire affair.
Meatloaf. Some of you may say “no kidding, here,” but there was a time when I thought Meatloaf was great. Bat Out of Hell I and II are so stupid they do not deserve recognition. I remember thinking Paradise by the Dashboard Light was so clever—boy was I dumb. Volume II is even more insipid “I’ll do anything for love; but I won’t do that…” (I would kill to know what anything is…) and Life is A Lemon And I Want My Money Back (heh heh –what the hell does this mean???) just highlight the II. Add to it from I the great lyrics “I was a varsity tackle and a hell of a block; when I played the guitar I made the canyons rock” and “I know you’re looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks; but there ain’t no Coupe de Ville hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box.” and you get the idea. I will not even bother to tell you of the thirty minute “acted out” version Meatloaf performed live of Paradise By The Dashboard Light—you’re welcome by the way. And yes, I saw Loaf Live. Blame the wife for that one.
And the number one worst and/or overrated performer in my mind: Bruce Springsteen. Trust me, I have tried to like what I call the “poor man’s Bob Dylan,” but the “Loss” is really pushing the envelope of my tolerance. Some songs have merit like “Glory Days,” “Human Touch,” and I truly like the Nebraska album as he found a way to make his voice fit the music, but to be honest, when I hear the E Street Band, I think of the theme music of Saturday Night Live—which had grown tiresome by 1975. His songs are way too long, but DJ’s love ‘em for bathroom breaks. This is not saying that the man does not have class—as anyone who threatens to sue the pants off of Reagan for using his anti-war songs (Reagan and the GOP not intelligent enough to figure that Born In The USA was meant as a protest song) deserves a great deal of praise, but his albums (over-inflated River; boring Live At Asbury Park; critically acclaimed and forced to like it because Dave Marsh says so Born To Run; rehashed Darkness At The Edge of Town; unintelligible Ghost of Tom Joad) leave much to be desired. I also hated his mugging on Roy Orbison’s Black and White Night. A crime was committed when he tried to overshadow the greatness of Roy Orbison. Nice to see Bob Dylan agrees with me about the fake attitude of Springsteen as listening to Tweeter and The Monkey Man can attest to on the Traveling Wilburys first album.
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away Now it looks as though they're here to stay Oh-oh I believe in Yesterday." --Paul McCartney
The latest issue of NME (New Music Express) Special edition is on the Solo Beatles—so I thought I would do my interpretation of what the FAB FOUR really wanted to say to us, the adorning public.
Ringo: “Yeah, I get some slack being the least talented Beatle, but I really feel great about it. I mean, the complete freaks fans have fed my ego and bank account for years. C’Mon—show of hands, how many of you own Photograph, Stop and Smell the Roses, Retrograve, and Vienna? I thought so—almost all of you. Now how many have played any of these albums more than once? Uh-huh—none of you. Here’s the kicker, how many played it once at all? I did not think so. I cannot blame you, this was a fantastic band and I “got by with a hellava lot help with my friends." Thanks for the cash, folks and for all of you bitter people who think I have not accomplished much—remember, I go to bed with Barbara Bach every night. Did you see The Spy Who Loved Me—yeah, Bond can play with his guns, but guess where I holster mine every night. Eat your heart out—an ugly mug like me can have this babe and you cannot. Now who’s the Caveman, huh?
Rock on, love Liverpool, stay off drugs, and all that jazz.
George: Yes, it is true, I had more talent than the rest at solo singles, but that’s because the others were so busy trying to compete—well not Ringo, but how obviously bad is he? I still created the best post-Beatle album in All Things Must Pass, but remember, I also appeared in the best Pos-Beatle band—The Traveling Wilburys. Now granted Gone Troppo and Somewhere in England are wretched, you have to admit, the first time you heard You, What Is Life, Bangladesh, This Song, Dear One, All Those years Ago, Poor Little Girl, and When We Was Fab, you really were surprised. I never should have made albums, but what can you do—the public demanded it.
I am often asked the question if I was ever pissed at Clapton for the whole Patty thing—nah. I was really on some bad acid when we met—let Eric have her. I was a Beatle—I could have anyone. Makes me wonder why John and Paul chose their women, but what the hey. I was honest with the Post-Beatle thing.
Oh yeah, and I admit one career error besides playing a ukulele, and that was letting Dylan sing on Wilbury cuts. My mistake and all, but, I mean, it was Bob Dylan—if I let Roy sing more, Dylan threatened to walk. Oh and I forgot—forgive me for letting Jeff Lynne produce the last few albums—I agree with you all that ELO inspired echoes makes us all cringe.
John: OK, everyone—off my back. Yoko and I were the real deal—that’s what drugs do to you. Like Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds wasn’t about LSD—you people will believe anything. I had some bad career moves, I admit it. I mean have you played Manlove Avenue—no, huh? Me either. I was in a bad place, ok? And for all you critics out there—take my cuts on Double Fantasy and Milk and Honey and you have a good album. You can delete the other, well, ONO-ie stuff. I do like her “scream version” of Revolution, though. I would tell you about how we recorded that one, but that would take time. Just look at the cover of two virgins—uh—if you can—and the story of the “primal scream” will make sense.
By the way, Mike Douglass and Dick Cavett rock! Love those sets—you know I had a room designed like that. See, drugs will do that to you.
Sorry to be such a jerk about saying the Beatles were nothing—I was really ticked off at Paul—I mean, you cannot imagine how many sickeningly sweet songs I had to sit through. You try it and you tell me that you aren’t ready to end the group.
Oh and before I forget, that crap about Elvis sending us a note on Ed Sullivan—yeah—you slime. You just HAD to get your name in the press, didn’t you? That’s why Ringo imitated you, jerk-boy. Why don’t you marry some child bride and have her wear weird wigs or something, huh?
Anyway--speaking of "Elvis", I am so glad to never record with McCartney again and to Elvis Costello, nice try—notice you only did an album worth of stuff didn’t you. Does he still pick his nose? Yeah I thought so.
Paul—quit dying the hair and enough with Yesterday and Hey Jude. MOVE ON, oh wait—it must be hard for you to do so—I have heard Press to Play and Pipes of Peace. I will not tell people that when you use alliteration in your titles, that is a clue that your albums stink—Wings at The SPEED OF SOUND, Red-Rose Speedway. I mean, Come on Paul, at least try on something other than the singles.
Paul: Call me nutty, but someone tell me who single-handedly saved the legacy of the Beatles—that’s right, ME. Now I did so for some very good money and I hate that Eric Idle figured it out with “All You Need Is Cash,” but hey, give me my moments.
I have been cute and cuddly since 1962—that is not an easy feat to pull off 40 plus years later. Ok, I admit, some bad albums, but what do you expect—you sustain “cuddly” for forty-five minutes and keep your respect—it’s not so easy. It’s almost as difficult as playing every drum track on every Beatles album—which I did. You see, “Paul” was never dead—just Ringo’s career. Nice “All-Star” Band, pal. Notice how you only perform one song and then “share the spotlight,” with the others. Hmm…must be a bear to be so limited.
And it’s not like I did not try to get you to join me, all of you fans. When Punk was popular, I got busted for drugs to appeal to the youth—you know, to this day, I never thought anyone in Japan would notice. Lord knows what’s in their food, right? I thought I could claim some “exotic” European herb.
And I am sick of the criticism from some of you. When I do a lousy album like Back to the Egg or Speed of Sound, you want more “Beatles” stuff; and when I do Goodbye To BroadStreet, you complain that I sang Beatle songs. I mean, decide, would you?
My goal is of course to be the driving focus of sapping every single penny out of Capitol and EMI for some well deserved money because “All You Need Is Love” is only true when you do not have to feed your self or worry about car payments. And I am sick of you kids today claiming I am not hip. I want you to know that I have personally jumped on EVERY SINGLE BANDWAGON I could—Kampuchea, Live Aid, G8—now be cool. I left Woodstock alone, but I thought it was some Charles Schultz reunion—my mistake. And look what happened, those darn kids tore up the joint.
And for those who do not think I am tough, whose song was considered “A secret message” to Charles Manson—yep, that was me so be nice or I will Helter Skelter you.
Now in my older years, I have three goalsor legacies. One, to recreate an album that is decent—I think my last “decent one” was Flowers In The Dirt and that was 15 years ago. My second goal is to make more live albums than the Grateful Dead, and my third is to have more “greatest hits” packages than The Who. You MUST own every version of “Yesterday” ever uttered by me. Remember in 1979 when I said I would “never perform ‘Yesterday’ again?” Hah Hah—SUCKERS! I am convince I could write a song on any tune and you would buy it—remember the “doorbell” song. Heh heh heh heh.
Anyways, thanks for the cash and remember it was Pete Townshend that said “Hope I die before I get old,” not me. And if that hypocrite can still perform live, Hell, I can too. Stop by my offices some day for a photo op—it will only cost you two grand and I want to dispel the myth that I have more money than 1/3 of the countries in the world—it’s ¼ of the countries in the world—get it right.
Oh and about John--this is for Yoko--John and I never had a feud, ever. It was all to make money. Why do you think we always planned when we would release an album? C’mon All You PEOPLE—use your wits, Ta Ta!
One last thing—thinks for buying the Anthology sets—you fan boys. Like all that hasn’t been released a billion times over on “imports.” Honestly, what you people will buy. Barnum was right, there is one born every minute.
Yep, that is what they really would say if they really could—but some people just don’t like the honesty. Long Live the Beatles Legacy.
“I wonder what we'll play for you tonight Something heavy or something light Something to set your soul alight I wonder how we'll answer when you say "We don't like you - go away, "Come back when you've learnt to play" I wonder what we'll do when things go wrong When we're half-way throughour favourite song We look up and the audience has gone Will we feel a little bit obscure Think "we're not needed here, "We must be new wave- they'll like us next year" The Wonders don't care - we don't give a damn”
From “One Chord Wonders” by The Adverts
Among the many perks of teaching high school kids is the exposure to new rock groups. No kidding, as I am a huge fan of various genres, but more particularly punk.
When I was a kid…as all famous stories go…I was exposed to the late 1970s punk revolutions. Eagerly anticipating various Ramones albums, I was immersed in the raw quality of punk rock.
Here is my list of five potential great “Punk” Rock groups for the kiddies to try who think Blink 182 and Green Day are all that exist.
#5. Stiff Little Fingers—ignored perhaps but Stiff Little Fingers could play quick, loud, and with amazing accuracy. Song highlights: Alternative Ulster, Nobody’s Heroes, Suspect Device. THE ALBUM TO OWN: Inflammable Material
4. The Sex Pistols—they were more of a manufactured image that actually gained popularity by a failed United States tour—they toured the South playing Punk Rock: how successful do you think they would be? They also gained popularity by the bizarre addictions and death of Sid Vicious. Song Highlights; God Save the Queen, Anarchy In the UK, Bodies, 17, and Pretty Vacant. THE ALBUM TO OWN: Never Mind The Bullocks: Here’s The Sex Pistols
#3. The Jam—More mod than Punk, but true innovators. If you are a fan of the Who and early Kinks, you will love the Jam. Their songs are catchy, sophisticated and polished. They are also dubbed “too English” for an American audience. I’ve heard the same mentioned about Shakespeare and it strikes me that he was pretty solid. Song Highlights: In The City, Away From The Numbers, To Be Someone, This Is The Modern World, News of the World, Mr. Clean, When You’re Young, Strange Town, Down In The Tube Station At Midnight, Going Underground, Start, That’s Entertainment, Absolute Beginners, Beat Surrender. THE ALBUM TO OWN: All Mod Cons
#2. The Clash—The ONLY band that matters. They are actually graced by creating the perfect PUNK rock album—twice. Their first self-titled album is so incredible and so powerful. I soaked it up the first time I heard it. Two albums later, London Calling—not only the greatest PUNK album (other than the debut Clash LP) ever made, but quite arguably the greatest ROCK album ever made. They were political savvy and musically incredible. Under the tough vision of Joe Strummer, the Clash did more to legitimatize punk rock than any group ever. Song Highlights: London’s Burning, Complete Control, Clash City Rockers, Police and Thieves, Janie Jones, Garageland, (White Man) In Hammersmith Palais, English Civil War, Tommy Gun, Safe European War, Stay Free, London Calling, Clampdown, Rudie Can’t Fail, Train In Vain, Wrong ‘Em Boyo, Koka Kola, Bankrobber, Armagideon Time, This Is The Radio Clash, Rock The Casbah, Straight to Hell, Should I Stay Or Should I Go. THE ALBUM TO OWN: London Calling
#1 The Ramones—taken from us much too soon, this band never received their due. They were humorous and their sound was coy while being simple. They actually wrote more “pop” songs and owe more to the mid-1960s than any group ever, and the heavy thundering of the three chord wonders left us in awe. Further, their first four albums were considered by many critics as the strongest line-up ever released in succession. Also, their IT’S ALIVE double album is the best LIVE record ever recorded. Obviously these are all opinions, but talk about fantastic. In a career highlight, they poked fun at themselves and the genre by making Rock ‘N’ Roll High School—a feature film that has risen to cult status. It also stars P.J. Soules (she was Bill Murray’s chick in Stripes and was one of the “mean” girls in the First Halloween film) and the shower scene with her, although innocent by today’s standards, was entertaining when I was a sophomore in high school. As the group began to record later albums, their creativity at times seemed sparse, but all of their albums had a few redeeming songs—well—except Mondo Bizarro and their album of 1960s cover songs called Acid Eaters. Song Highlights: Blitzkrieg Bop, 53rd and 3rd, Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue, Glad To See You Go, Gimmie Gimmie Shock Treatment, I Remember You, Commando, Pinhead, Sheena Is A Punk Rocker, Teenage Lobotomy, I Don’t Care, I Wanna Be Sedated (quite possibly the GREATEST rock song EVER RECORDED—and I am not kidding), She’s The One, Rock ‘N’ Roll High School, Do You Remember Rock and Roll Radio (Quite Possibly the GREATEST NON-HIT that should have been one), The KKK Took My Baby Away, It’s Not My Place In The 9-5 World, We Want The Airwaves, Psycho Therapy, Howling At The Moon (Sha-La-La)—A Song that rips on Corporate America and Wars, My Brain Is Hanging Upside Down—Bonzo Goes To Bitburg (A song that questions how Reagan could put a wreath on a Nazi soldier’s tomb—this is such a fantastic song with one of the best lyrics they ever wrote “You Know What Really Makes Me Sick Is When Someone Tries To Hide Behind Politics”), I Wanna Live, Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight With You), I Don’t Wanna Grow Up, and a remake of the Spider-Man theme. THE ALBUM TO OWN: The Ramones Leave Home although a greatest hits package (Hey Ho Let’s GO The Anthology) would give a more precise picture of their evolution.
I have also put together a list of twenty songs that will fit on your burning CD desires that represent what I feel are the best of the genre—although I took no songs from the previously mentioned bands. These songs capture the spirit and the posturing of early punk rock. I tried to only take one song from each band, but if you ever see a Buzzcocks, Adverts, Undertones, Iggy Pop, or Vibrators “greatest hits” package—buy it.
One Chord Wonders: The Adverts Blank Generation: Richard Hell And The Voidoids Wild Youth: Generation X (Billy Idol’s band) Lust For Life: Iggy Pop Baby Baby: The Vibrators Murder of Liddle Towers: Angelic Upstarts Human Fly: The Cramps Homicide: 999 Let’s Break The Law: Anti Nowhere League Police Truck: The Dead Kennedys Gary Gilmore’s Eyes: The Adverts Ever Fallen In Love With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?: The Buzzcocks See No Evil: Television Do Anything You Wanna Do: Eddie and The Hot Rods Flares And Slippers: The Cockney Rejects 2-4-6-8 Motorway: Tom Robinson Band If The Kids Are United (We Will Never Be Divided): Sham 69 The Sound Of The Suburbs: The Members Teenage Kicks: The Undertones You’re In A Rut: The Ruts
Lastly, there are some excellent CD Compilations out there. I recommend the Rhino DIY (Do It Yourself) Collections—although they are out of print. I also very much appreciate a BOX SET out there from Rhino called No Thanks: The 70s Punk Rebellion. If you dig around on the Internet (eBay and Amazon and Half.com) you may find a two CD set called Burning Ambitions—it is excellent; The Best Punk Album In The World…Ever (a two CD set that is great); Teenage Kicks (another two CD set that includes some decent new wave as well like some Joe Jackson material and Turning Japanese by the Vapors); and my personal favorite found for $5.99 at Circuit City The Great British Punk Rock Explosion from Dojo records. This is an incredible collection of lesser known punk stuff that is sure to please.
When we traveled to London last year, the Brits were very proud of the punkers, to be honest. On a walking Rock Music Tour, they were pointing out many sites that were made famous by the Sex Pistols—more so than sites by the Who.
Rock music was meant to be rebellious, and I think we have left that behind for corporate Boy Bands, stupid rap influence crapola, and lame boring pop hits. Bottom lines, if they do not play their own instruments, write their own songs, and perform rather than lip syncing in concert—IT IS NOT GOOD OR CREATIVE MUSIC.
I took some heat in high school for liking punk. I want to go back to the 25th reunion and find the guy who made fun of me for carrying around a Clash and a 999 album that I borrowed from Ed (Po) Locke. This guy was in my homeroom told me that I should be listening to “good music like Foreigner, REO Speedwagon, Journey, and Yes.” Maybe if I see him, I should "pogo" on his face. Then again, maybe not: Sigh…some people cannot be helped. He is more to be pitied.
“Is it any wonder I reject you first? Fame, fame, fame, fame Is it any wonder you are too cool to fool Fame (fame)”--David Bowie
Andy Warhol said we will each experience fifteen minutes of fame in our lives. I guess that could be world wide fame or local fame. Andy Warhol was correct and I have experienced mine. My fame has changed my life, and I walk a little lighter throughout this world and with a greater sense of duty as a result of it.
You see, in my town, I am now known as the “Batman Nut.”
When the Batman Begins hype was starting, I was going to teach a class on Batman for little kids at the local community college. One of the supervisors of the program called the paper and told them about it because the enrollment was down for the kids. To coincide with the release of the film, the feature editor thought it would be clever to write a Batman story for the paper. Thus I was contacted and after two separate conversations with me, the reporter pieced together a story. I lent him my Grad School research project on the character for his article and all was going well.
A friend of mine and a fellow comic collector (i.e. geek) told me during the interview to stress I am married. When I asked why, he gave me a serious look and said, “you KNOW why—just stress you are married.” I stressed I was married and the reporter interviewed my wife with questions about what it was like to be married to a geek.
The paper sent a photographer over, who took dozens of shots and ran with some interesting photos of the highlights of my collection of Bat-memorabilia. All of this was in the spirit of good fun.
The article was printed, it was well written, and it was fun. I was interviewed by the local radio station about my collection and about the film that was released the day after the debut of “Batman Begins.” My wife listening in said I was comical and it was an entertaining interview to listen to. All well in my world—and then fame came into play.
Usually on Thursday mornings, I peruse the paper looking for garage sales items to make money on eBay or add to my other obsessions. As I approached a garage sale a few days after the article appeared, a gentleman running a particular sale that mentioned comics in the ad yelled “Batman-dude, I have comics here. I was hoping you would come by. Check them out.” To be honest, his comics were not very rare nor were they of any sort of quality, so I thanked him and told him I owned all he had. He gave me a look like I was some sort of snob so, I bought a picture of the 1985 Chicago Bear team—one must be kind to the public. “Bat-dude” does not want to disrupt his positive relationships with the fans.
Three days later, I was at the drive-thru of our bank, when this young woman taking my check for cash began smiling at me. My first thought was, “hey, this weight watchers stuff is working.” For a moment, I was seriously thinking to do even more with the program. Then the less arrogant part of my personality took over and I thought, “I have snot running out of my nose,” or “There is a fly on my forehead” or “she’s laughing because my wife ordered ‘Hello Kitty’ checks which look stupid (especially true when one is buying items at Menards or any other home improvement store).” So rather than wondering, I asked “What's so funny?”
“You’re the Batman guy,” she said excitedly. “We read your article and we thought it was great.” Well that was nice, I thought as two of the other tellers came by and waved.
One of my administrators at my school joked around with me. “Good to see you’re an expert on something—Batman is so educational.” I can imagine him at some administrators’ conference as some schools have “experts” in various areas like articles published in journals, contributions to books, awards for excellence in education. He can proudly stand up and say, “Yeah, well…I have a ‘Batman’ expert on my staff.” Actually I was published in a History journal, and a book War and Popular Culture by Paul Holsinger and I won an excellence in education award—its just that the Journal article was on Batman, my contribution to the book was on comics in the war, and I am still not sure why I won the excellence in education award—oh now I remember—dressing up like a cheerleader for the United Way (another story someday). That was much more embarrassing than an article on Batman and I stressed I was married quite often as I walked around in a cheerleading costume with a wig and make-up because…well…“you KNOW why...”
Some place called “This Is News” or something like that, called and offered to mount the story on a wood plaque and keep it under glass with an engraving of whatever I wanted on it. This sounded kind of cool as this place from Somewheresville, USA combs through newspapers and finds interesting articles. Now the catch is that they will do it for free, but, if I want to keep it, it will only cost me $175.00.
Now one can read the article at http://www.pantagraph.com in the archives section. I also found it online in another source: my brother’s blog at http://marksweetwood.blogspot.com/ And one can read the pdf of my research paper at: http://www.pantagraph.com/ent/sweetwood.pdf
My family members like to buy me Batman stuff at Christmas and I enjoy the gifts—with the movie coming out, the market will be flooded (uh, I guess that is a hint.) And my sister asked for two copies of the article, as she hopes to do some sort of preservation of it. I am stressing that if she were to do something with it, that would be the greatest gift she ever gave me (another hint) other than a Mego Joker action figure (i.e. doll) when I was ten.
Three weeks later, I am not as approached as much, and I feel a bit saddened by it. I was watching an Eagles special on TV the other day and an appropriate song came on: New Kid In Town. To quote: “There's talk on the street, it's there to remind you, that it doesn't really matter which side you're on; You're walking away and they're talking behind you. They will never forget you 'til somebody new comes along.”
Fame (fifteen minutes or not) is fleeting. No wonder Batman is nocturnal.
On open day of the release of Batman Begins, I ventured to the tiny theatre near the house to watch with anticipation, the event of the summer--a new BATMAN film. Along the way, the local paper ran an article about my obsessive-compulsive nature and my self-proclaimed BATROOM. I was even interview on the local radio station.
I felt good about the film. The action was obvious, yet the story not only followed the comics to a degree, but was sensible. I have always maintained that the film makers do not create comic book movies for comic book geeks. They create them for our wives and loved ones so those people can understand our passions.
With that in mind, I begged my wife to join me for my second viewing--to which she agreed. The film ended, I breathed in a sigh of release and relief as if I too had endured Batman's agony and triumph. I was misty-eyed when his parents were murdered; I thrilled to his costume and the fight scenes. With such fondness I turned to my wife expecting her to say a "That was really good" type of comment.
To my surprise she looked at me and said, "That was really stupid and boring."
I asked for a reason as to why, and she muttered: "The first hour. Dull. And then he finds a villager in Tibet that speaks English--I mean c'mon. I am confused by the Ras Al Ghul, is he a tibetan priest or the guy with the bad moustache or what is this and why does he care about Bruce Wayne? And Katy Holmes character makes no sense (That we agree on). And the Scarecrow just looks dumb. And how does Comissionor Gordon know how to shoot out a bridge? And why does Bruce Wayne's company have all of this stuff lying around and not using it. And why is the CEO such a jerk--no way that would happen. And what is it with the fight scenes, I could not tell what was happening. And who was the bad cop (Flass by the way) and like he could get away with being in with a mob guy." The list went on and on for the brief two minute walk to the car and subsequent ride home.
I was crushed. I did not argue and I did not say much until she said, "I liked the Penquin one much better. Even the Riddler one was better than that. I mean, this was dull." I simply said, "you're wrong."
There you have it: this is one of my philosophies on life. There are two kinds of people in this world--those who think Batman was a TV show first and those who know better.
With all of the positive praise for this film maybe we need my wife to check us back to reality. The harsh criticisms she leveled are from a person who enjoyed the Animated Series (she liked Batgirl) and the second film (it had cats in it).
Go see the movie and enjoy it. Oh and by the way, I saw the Fantastic Four alone--and it will remain that way.
