Thank God, or whomever or whatever you’d care to thank. K-Fed has denied any sex tape of him and Brtiney Spears exists. That’s one porno no one should have to see. What would it consist of? A lot of snacking and belching (And not on food – zing!), K-Fed mumbling about weed and Brit-Brit squawking about not being able to understand what was going on undoubtedly. Spears claims the rumours have tainted her image. Riiiiiiiiight.
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It’s Thanksgiving week, and a good time to do a good deed and bring in an orphan. In our case, that means reaching into the bin and showing love to some CDs that have been collecting dust for too long. Read at your own risk.
The Blood Brothers: Young Machetes (V2)
The first track is called “Set Fire To the Face On Fire,” and the lyrics start out “Fi-Ah,” Fi-Ah, Fi-Ah.”—how Beavis and Butthead of The Blood Brothers. But it gets better, depending on where you stand on the whole scream vs. sing thing. The Blood Brothers are a cross between Jane’s Addiction, The Cure, Led Zeppelin, and every screaming death-metal band you’ve ever heard. All of that makes them unique and interesting, though at times lead singer Jordan Blilie’s voice is like 100 nails on 100 chalkboards.
Riley Baugus: Long Steel Rail (Sugar Hill)
Yeeeeeeeee-haaaawwwww! If you take that toothpick out of your mouth long enough to sing along to this twang-fest, you are in for a wild ride on the Riley train. Hence the title of the record, which really does make you feel like you’re on a train barreling across the U.S. of A. It’s Americana at its finest, not only because of the songwriting, but because of Baugus’ spectacular fiddle and banjo play.
Meg & Dia: Something Real (Doghouse)
This is chick-fronted power pop with some really slick guitar work and even better songwriting. And now for the other shoe to drop. Lead vocalist Dia sings in that baby talk, fingers in mouth vocal style made famous by Vanessa Carlton, and it’s never sounded more tired. The thing is, though, you can tell she’s got the talent; she just needs to mature and use her voice more effectively for this duo to have success.
Ella Rouge: self-titled (Moby Dick)
ABBA front man Benny Andersson has son. Son grows up to play in band so as to follow in dad’s footsteps. Son has lots of dad’s musical ability. However, son listens to a bit too much Creed while growing up, therefore sabotaging the debut album for his band, Ella Rouge. It doesn’t suck, but at times is the musical equivalent of a tug of war between David Cassidy and Scott Stapp.
The Nice Boys: self-titled (Birdman)
They call this type of music glam rock, or, as their bio states, “straight-ahead-stadium-glam-rock.” More accurately, this is guitar-driven rock with very little attention to melody and songwriting. The opening track, “Teenage Nights,” is catchy enough but the rest of the ten tracks will have you asleep and snoring in about two minutes. This is one of those bands that critics love for no reason whatsoever, but this critic knows better.
Taylor Swift: self-titled (Big Machine)
Here we go again, another cute teenage girl that’s handed a guitar at an early age and learns how to sing and write songs. But this country artist has a future because somewhere in that teenage body is a pretty strong voice, and her songs are Nashville-ready. The downside is that she too has listened to too much Vanessa Carlton and Michelle Branch (see Meg & Dia review above), but the upside is that she’s already a better singer than “singer of the year” Carrie Underwood. Did you hear that, Faith Hill?
Tiga: Sexor (Turbo Recordings)
With songs like “Welcome To Planet Sexor” and “The Ballad of Sexor,” you can’t possibly take this electronic album seriously. And you’d better not, because that comic relief is the only redeeming quality. It’s like a five-year-old made up lyrics and put them to some cheesy beats on his Casio. Yes, I said Casio, and I don’t care if that dates me. Now get me off of this spaceship on planet Sexor and fly me back to Earth.
Paula DeAnda: self-titled (Arista)
Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Here is another sixteen-year-old artist with a major label release and better than average voice. But the difference between everyone else and this J-Lo-esque teen is that she has the likes of Clive Davis, Ne-Yo, Timbaland and Diane Warren on her team. That’s like me batting in a lineup with Albert Pujols, Derek Jeter and David Ortiz—no matter how many automatic outs I cost my team, we’re still going to win. Same with young Paula and her R&B/pop debut, which is like liquid sugar pouring out of your radio.
Carly Simon looking pretty rough
Well if you didn’t know before, you do now. Stephen Tyler recently announced his battle with Hepatits C, a condition he was diagnosed with three years ago. He’s now free from the condition, but the question remains, who the hell did he contract it from? According to Tyler, going through chemo and being placed on Interferon put a strain on his marriage. But really, you’d thing having Hep-C would have done that all on its own.
“I may go on Oprah and talk about this,” he says. “I mean you know it’s just one of those things… it’s one of those things people don’t speak about it, but it is treatable.”
Hopefully Oprah will have free shots for everyone hidden under their seats if Stephen does go on her show.
I had forgotten that I was exposed to it at an early age until I checked out Mark Evanier’s consistently enjoyable blog, News From Me, and read an entry where he reminisces about his days as a writer on “The Bay City Rollers Show.”
Evanier comments on how it used to run in a really early timeslot that didn’t exist in all NBC markets, and he’s right; I remember that I’d only catch it if I happened to wake up really early…like, 6:30 AM…on Saturday mornings. (That was back in the days when you could start at 6:30 and have something great to watch straight on through to “American Bandstand.”) He also recollects that “it was actually a fun show to do if you could get past the fact that the most of the Rollers had such natural thick Scottish accents that American audiences could never have understood them. A dialogue coach named Jonathan Lucas worked wonders with the lads but by their own admission, they weren’t equipped to host a show of this sort. It was kind of like: Forget about comedic delivery. Let’s be happy if they just get the words out clean.”
Check out this brief clip of the opening and closing of the show; there’s just enough dialogue for you to understand what he’s talking about…
…please to find the worst cover of the Sex Pistols’ “Pretty Vacant” since the version on Joan Jett’s 1990’s album, The Hit List.
Click here if you don’t trust me. “Oy! Oy! Oy!” Gimme a fucking break…
And, y’know, I was originally psyched at the idea of hearing this compilation, given this all-covers track listing…
Goldspot – “Float On” (Modest Mouse)
Rock Kills Kid – “I Turn My Camera On” (Spoon)
Lady Sovereign – “Pretty Vacant” (The Sex Pistols)
Mates of State – “California” (Phantom Planet)
Pinback – “Wasted” (Black Flag)
John Paul White – “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head” (ELO)
Rogue Wave – “Debaser” (The Pixies)
Syd Matters – “Hello Sunshine” (Super Furry Animals)
Tally Hall – “Smile Like You Mean It” (The Killers)
The M’s – “Come Into Our Room” (Clinic)
Band Of Horses – “The End’s Not Near” (The New Year)
Ashtar Command – “Into Dust” (Mazzy Star)
…but the Pistols cover has me on edge and disturbed at how awful some of the other tracks might be.
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