These new wave revivalists put the “c” in “catchy” during this three and a half minute groove found on their self-titled debut. It’s possibly the most addictive song of 2005.
Listen to it here.
Category: Rock (Page 236 of 241)
I don’t expect to get a lot of fan mail from this, but since everyone else is bemoaning the lack of John Lennon in a series of tributes, I figure I’d go ahead and throw my two cents in. This isn’t going to be a heart-felt thing, where I make a lot of ponderances upon what life would be like now if Lennon were still alive, and what if he and Paul McCartney had created something again and all that shit. This is just my honest opinion on the man, and if anything, he’d probably want it that way than any other way. Honestly, I’d say ol’ Johnny’s probably puked a few times in his grave from all the candy-coated write-ups on him over the years since his death.
I enjoy John Lennon as a Beatle. I think he wrote some great songs with the band. I’ve always been more a McCartney guy, but let’s be honest here. The Beatles were great together. Separate, they all had some soul searching to do. McCartney, of course, by far had the best solo success and in my opinion the most enjoyable solo albums. But I can’t deny that even he lost something along the way without Lennon there. But John needed Paul, too. Man did he ever. At least the two kept each other in check. Without each other, they didn’t have those built-in editors to keep themselves from releasing some really sorry shit.
And Johnny released plenty of solo shit during his time. I can still kind of groove to Plastic Ono Band, but I never thought it was this amazing breakthrough for Lennon. Granted, I wasn’t around yet when it originally went down, but I think newer generations can look at these things and also listen with a bit more of a critical attitude. Call it cynical, but fuck, really what is so damned amazing about that album? Ditto Imagine. Jesus, I have never liked that title track, and I couldn’t care less for any of the rest of the LP. If there’s one thing that always annoyed me about John Lennon more than Yoko Ono it was his naive politics. The bed-in was stupid, the rolling around in bags was goofy as fuck, and the whole “War Is Over (If You Want It)” mentality was just too dope-nosed to work for anyone. I am often reminded of that bit where the Lennons are on some show and John is asked what he’d do if he saw someone angry coming at him on the street. His reply, “I’d say, ‘Peace, brother!” and run the other way,” is exactly why his brand of Coca-Cola “peace” never worked. For all his confrontational and smart-assed attitude, at the end of the day, Lennon would rather just run the other way.
He ran the other way when it came to his albums, too. What the fuck was it with all that echo and cheesy-ass saxophone in his songs? Some Time In New York City and Mind Games are absolute bombs. Even Rock And Roll was destitute in character. Blame it on his lifestyle, blame it on Yoko, blame it on May Pang. Jesus, just blame it on John. The guy was completely directionless. At least Harrison wanted to keep pushing Krishna on us and Ringo was still just happy to be there being good old Ringo. But Lennon was always grasping, and great solo success eluded him. His shit sold only because he was John Lennon, not because any of it was actually good or durable.
His best song was “Nobody Told Me.” His experimental albums with Yoko, Unfinished Music numbers one and two and Wedding Album are a howl and everyone should own those. If you want John Lennon being honest and proving to the world that he was just as happy jerking off complete garbage and making cash from it, just listen to those albums. It wasn’t Art. It was Crap. But it was the best crap he ever made outside of The Beatles because he was so honest about it. Sure, you can go on and wear my ear off about “Working Class Hero” and all that crap, but it was just another phase. At least when he was showing his shriveled dick on the cover of his album, you actually had something to discuss.
Anyway, that’s that. John’s dead, the walrus was Paul, and the world keeps turning. I’ll start imagining no possessions and all that crap when I’m on my deathbed. I’m in the here and now and I enjoy the comforts that life has to offer. Imagine Lennon not sucking during his solo years. Now there’s something to ponder, kiddies. Peace, brother.
Yes I live and love in Pittsburgh. Yes, I think it’s a great city. But don’t let this retarded video of the WesternPAJuggalos.com clan keep you away from our fine city. Thrill to the um, thrilling scenes of what the Insane Clown Posse fans around here are all about. I only wish it could be as good as Heavy Metal Parking Lot. But hey, someone has to love the crappy music out there, so let it be this greasy group of kids. I’ll gladly handle the good stuff.
There are guilty pleasures…and, then, there are guilty pleasures.
It’s one thing to like an album that you know you really shouldn’t like when you can perform a lengthy rant about why it’s actually not so bad; for instance, I could write a lovely treatise on the pop goodness of former Spice Girl Melanie C’s solo debut, which you’d be prone to write off simply because she used to be a Spice Girl.
It’s quite another, however, to love an album and find yourself totally and utterly unable to defend it. You want to, of course…but when you sit down and listen to the record, you suddenly realize, “There is nothing I can say that will convince anyone that this disc is actually any good.”
I hereby open my closet of horrors, then, and submit to you my guiltiest pleasure:
Night Ranger, “Big Life.”
It was their last gasp as a viable commercial entity, but they were wheezing all the way, with only one semi-hit to be found among the record’s nine tracks, that being “The Secret of My Success,” the theme song to the Michael J. Fox movie of the same name. But I had seen the band in concert as part of an ostensibly-awesome double bill with Starship, I had all their albums – yes, I actually had them on vinyl – and, when I read in People that they had a new album out, I knew I needed to buy it right away. So I did. And I loved it. It was catchy pop-rock, albeit with more of an emphasis on a glossy sheen than a hard edge, but that didn’t matter one bit to me; if anything, it made it more accessible for me. By the time I realized that no-one cared about Night Ranger and that I was probably doing my reputation more harm than good by proclaiming the album to be “awesome,” it was too late; I knew the words to almost every song…and, to this day, still own it on CD.
Wow, that feels good. Anyone else got a guilty pleasure they’re willing to divulge…?
Last week, we had a rather spirited discussion about the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s Class of 2006 (Black Sabbath, Blondie, Miles Davis, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Sex Pistols), after which I listed ten bands from the ‘80s that I want to see get into the Hall before, say, Paper Lace, who gave the world “The Night Chicago Died.” Most of my picks, admittedly, were no-brainers (the Mötley Crüe pick was more for fun than anything else), but the point I was really trying to make was that the music of the ‘80s should not be dismissed in favor of the bands from the youth of the majority of the voters, and I fear that it will take New Order and the Smiths a good five years of eligibility before they get the nod. I, for one, cannot wait to see the induction ceremony for the Smiths. You couldn’t find four people who hate each other more.
This week, I am going to run my white flag up the pole and list the bands that I dearly love that, in my not so humble opinion, do not stand a chance in hell of getting into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Most of these artists are people whom I feel deserve to get the nod. But I understand how the “biz” works, and that respect and credibility will only get you so far. The reason they’re not getting in, as far as I’m concerned, is because they didn’t sell enough records, which more or less makes this the American Music Awards Hall of Fame, but I digress.
And so, without further ado, bands I love, listed in no particular order, that will not get into the Hall.
1) Roxy Music/Bryan Ferry. These guys were a huge influence on a score of different bands, from the glam bands of the ‘70s to the New Romantics of the ‘80s. One thing’s for sure, a good chunk of Bowie’s best moves came from Bryan Ferry, and I think Bowie himself would admit that.
2) Neil Finn/Crowded House/Split Enz. The man pisses genius, as Q Magazine once succinctly put it. Neil’s presence in Split Enz forced brother Tim Finn to quit fiddling around and write something accessible, and Crowded House is one of the best pop bands in the world, ever. Finn’s solo stuff ain’t bad, either. Lord knows, his song “Turn and Run” is the best thing that Sheryl Crow will ever be involved with, but we’ll get to Sheryl Crow in a little bit.
3) Squeeze. They were smart, they were funny, and they wrote infectiously catchy songs. So why is it that they don’t have a prayer of getting in? I wish I knew. We’re now surrounded by scores of smartass singers who think they’re clever, but there hasn’t been a record since Ben Folds Five that comes even close to outsmarting East Side Story or Argybargy.
4) Aimee Mann. If she signed up for military duty, they’d make her a sniper. Mann has a way of disarming people so quickly that they don’t even know that she has taken their most powerful weapon away until she’s shoved it halfway down their throat. Meanwhile, Sheryl Crow writes songs that are barely good enough to be Aimee’s B-sides, and Crow will likely skate into the Hall on a silver platter. And why is that? Because Crow sold more records, therefore she must be better than Mann. But I know better. Hopefully you do, too.
5) George Michael. No one wants to admit that they like either a George Michael song in particular or George Michael in general, and yet, this guy wreaked unholy havoc on not only the Billboard Pop charts, but the R&B charts as well. And yet, unlike Finn, or Mann, or Squeeze, it’s that very success, or the inability to maintain it, that will cost Michael in the end. There was a point, when Faith ruled the world, that Michael was even bigger than Madonna. I admit that even I tried to resist his charms as long as I could, but the one-two-three punch of “Everything She Wants,” “Kissing a Fool” and, most importantly, “Cowboys and Angels” made me a believer. If they are holding his post-Listen Without Prejudice material against him (which is patently unfair, as there is some great stuff on Older), then I would like to submit Exhibit CH: The Pretenders, into evidence. They made one, one, good record, and they got in. For my money, George Michael has written more good songs than Chrissie Hynde has ever played.
6) The Hollies. I had planned on making this list about more current artists, but before I began, I went through Steve-O’s list of inductees, and couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that the Hollies are still on the outside looking in. WTF? These guys were incredibly popular and highly regarded. Isn’t that the magic combination? Shouldn’t they get in for “The Air That I Breathe,” “He Ain’t Heavy (He’s My Brother)” and “King Midas in Reverse” alone? If you need more examples on what’s good about the Hollies, I can give you about 20. I’m sure the Delays (whose album Faded Seaside Glamour is the best combination of the Hollies, Sundays, Cocteau Twins and the La’s that you’ll ever hear) could give you about 20 more. But sad fact is that if the Hollies were going to get in, it would have happened by now, and that is a crying shame.
7) Blur. They were bar none my favorite band of the ‘90s. I shoved Modern Life Is Rubbish, Parklife and The Great Escape down the throats of everyone within reach (didn’t I, Steve?). But after four superb records (1997’s Blur was their last hurrah), the blood started to spill between Damon and Graham, and neither has been the same since. Sure, Damon’s doing just fine with the Gorillaz, but you know that it’s killing him inside that the Gorillaz are bigger in the States than Blur ever was or will ever be.
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