Right now, I'm going to set itunes to random and list the ten arbitrary selections. I promise not to cheat. OK, go.
1) Vivaldi - "4 Seasons" (Spring Concerto). Duh. Ben likes it.
2) Clarence Clearwater - "Slip Away". Because it rawks, yo.
3) John Lennon - "It's Real". Weird. Lennon whistles a happy song and plucks a guit-box for just longer than one minute. Yoko recently released this acoustic version (2005?).
4) Gilberto - "Girl From Ipanema". I know, I rule.
5) Unknown Artist(s) from something I got on Lime Wire called "Irish Drinking Songs". It's called "Fuck You, I'm Drunk". And while I always appreciate a hilarious racial stereo type (drunken Irishmen... though sadly, the song says nothing of potatoes); I also appreciate hundred year old Sea Shanties with verse as profound as, "I'm going to stay drunk / 'till the next time I'm drunk!"
6) Calexico - "The Ride Part II". It has it's artistic merits, but it's inescapably hipster crap. Aury and Thomas (Or "The Frenchies" as they're sometimes called) gave it to me. I burned 'em a shitload of Jimmie Rogers in return. Welcome to America, fellas - De-yo-deh-leigh-he-he!
7) Johnny Cash - "Personal Jesus". Yup. And it's great, too (in case you don't already know). J.R. made a whole CD steeped in his own pending demise. He could see the end of the line as soon as June passed, and thought he'd say "So long" to all o' us fans. Thanks John.
8) Pearl Bailey with Cootie Williams and his Orchestra - "Tess's Torch Song". It's dope, dude. But then again, if your name is "Cootie", you're automatically knighted in the League of Awesomeness.
9) Otis Redding - "Dreams to Remember". I know, I know. It was on some shitty, 80's, coming-of-age-teeny-bopper dung heap of a movie, but Otis is the man, and the song is great.
10) Bill Monroe - "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad". Just an old bluergrass hillbilly who once had his mandolin smashed to bits, painstakingly repaired and recently purchased for well over a million clams. He's that good.
So here's the deal. If you've read this far, you must now post ten random selections from your itunes library. Where should you post it? Hmmm... the comments section of this very entry seems as good a spot as any. Don't cheat and skip a song just because you don't like it, or it's something your douche bag ex roommate downloaded. You don't have to feel obligated to explain, but if the need strikes you, please elaborate.
Over.
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Stop The Wimp Rock
Hola Gorditos y Gorditas.
My brother Jake brought up a good point recently, and that is: What the fuck is going on with "Indy Rock"?
Somebody has got to take a stand here. There are far too many wimpy metro sexuals out there who learned a few chords on the guit-box, grew their hair out, put on a pair of pants that are too small and started to cry their little wussy hearts out over a basic, G, A, D chord progression. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing it. So what your white bred, cheerleadin' girlfriend left you after 2 months? We're supposed to weep in our beers? You ain't Hank, and you can't sing the blues. So shut up.
A good example (also Jake's) is the that show "Scrubs". At the beginning, some gay wad sings, "I can't do this all on my own, oh I'm no... I'm no Superman." First of all, Zach Braff, if you're implying that anyone ever thought of you as anything even remotely close to a superhero of any kind, you are sadly mistaken. Same goes for the guy singing the song. Listen dude, nobody has ever mistaken you for Superman, so there is no reason to reiterate that. You're being redundant. If you wanted to make a contradictory statement, you should say, "I'm not a giant douche." Because that's what we think you are.
With the Internet at our disposal, and still largely in the hands of (and controlled by) the people, just about anyone with a knack for marketing (or an important message) can become relatively well known. That being said, we the people must shoulder the responsibility of telling these emo, indy rock ass holes when they suck, which is most of the time. It is our duty as functional members of society to rid ourselves of whiny attention whores who think that singing like their nuts haven't descended is a cool thing.
Ladies, there is also a responsibility heaped upon your shoulders in this indy rock revolution. That is, stop throwing your undies at these guys. I know that some of you find guitar playing nancy-boys irresistible, but you must try to remain objective and keep a level head. Your involvement is crucial, because if singing like a pansy gets a guy laid, even once, he's going to continue to do so, and other douche bags will follow. Not to mention the possibility of becoming pregnant, there by adding to America's already maxed-out nancy boy population. Please. Do it (or rather, DON'T "do it") for your country.
Yes, it's crossed my mind to be more compassionate, but I find it difficult. In my defense, I'm not saying that every emo bastard is a bad musician or song writer. I just think we should hold them to a higher standard. We should create a filter to weed out the bad ones, and force the good ones to up the bar. I'm not promoting the re-corporatization of music either. I think it's good that the fate of musicians is in our hands via the Internet.
Also, as a final note, let me say that if a guy sings his heart out, it DOES NOT automatically make him a nancy-boy. No, no, quite the contrary. I mentioned Hank before, and for those of you who are unfamiliar, take a listen to songs like "There's a tear in my beer", or "I'm so lonesome I could cry". These are heartfelt ballads that cut to the bone. Songs that any man whose ever been sad, drunk or heartbroken can understand. There are no foolish pretenses. No ulterior motives (like getting some trim from the big breasted brunette in the front row). In fact, Hank used to use a psuedonym for his really sad songs. Luke the Drifter. That way, if you went up to the juke box, you'd know that Luke the Drifter was a really sad (and probably really drunk) Hank. This would avoid accidentally playing a sad song when you meant to play some more up beat, like "Hey Good Lookin'" or Honkey Tonkin'". See? Even way back when, Hank was protecting us from accidental emo. Thanks, Hank. We know you did it because you care.
Some of you may have come across a blog I wrote on myspace a long time ago about tattoos. This is along the same lines. It's ok to be accepting, but some things should be a little bit exclusive. Not everyone should be allowed to do them. Like Willie Nelson teaches us in "Shotgun Willie", "You can't make a record if you ain't got nothin' to say. Can't make a record of you ain't got nothin' to say. You can't play music if you don't know nothin' to play." Take heed, gordos y gordas. There's wisdom in the ages, and in this new era of independence from corporate rule, we have become the Simon Cowells, Paula Abdouls and Randy... uh... what's his last name? Anyway, we're the judges now, and we'll choose our own idols. Let's make 'em earn our respect as well as our underpants. Together, we can slow down the pussification of not only our pop music, but also our people.
Carry on.
My brother Jake brought up a good point recently, and that is: What the fuck is going on with "Indy Rock"?
Somebody has got to take a stand here. There are far too many wimpy metro sexuals out there who learned a few chords on the guit-box, grew their hair out, put on a pair of pants that are too small and started to cry their little wussy hearts out over a basic, G, A, D chord progression. Frankly, I'm sick of hearing it. So what your white bred, cheerleadin' girlfriend left you after 2 months? We're supposed to weep in our beers? You ain't Hank, and you can't sing the blues. So shut up.
A good example (also Jake's) is the that show "Scrubs". At the beginning, some gay wad sings, "I can't do this all on my own, oh I'm no... I'm no Superman." First of all, Zach Braff, if you're implying that anyone ever thought of you as anything even remotely close to a superhero of any kind, you are sadly mistaken. Same goes for the guy singing the song. Listen dude, nobody has ever mistaken you for Superman, so there is no reason to reiterate that. You're being redundant. If you wanted to make a contradictory statement, you should say, "I'm not a giant douche." Because that's what we think you are.
With the Internet at our disposal, and still largely in the hands of (and controlled by) the people, just about anyone with a knack for marketing (or an important message) can become relatively well known. That being said, we the people must shoulder the responsibility of telling these emo, indy rock ass holes when they suck, which is most of the time. It is our duty as functional members of society to rid ourselves of whiny attention whores who think that singing like their nuts haven't descended is a cool thing.
Ladies, there is also a responsibility heaped upon your shoulders in this indy rock revolution. That is, stop throwing your undies at these guys. I know that some of you find guitar playing nancy-boys irresistible, but you must try to remain objective and keep a level head. Your involvement is crucial, because if singing like a pansy gets a guy laid, even once, he's going to continue to do so, and other douche bags will follow. Not to mention the possibility of becoming pregnant, there by adding to America's already maxed-out nancy boy population. Please. Do it (or rather, DON'T "do it") for your country.
Yes, it's crossed my mind to be more compassionate, but I find it difficult. In my defense, I'm not saying that every emo bastard is a bad musician or song writer. I just think we should hold them to a higher standard. We should create a filter to weed out the bad ones, and force the good ones to up the bar. I'm not promoting the re-corporatization of music either. I think it's good that the fate of musicians is in our hands via the Internet.
Also, as a final note, let me say that if a guy sings his heart out, it DOES NOT automatically make him a nancy-boy. No, no, quite the contrary. I mentioned Hank before, and for those of you who are unfamiliar, take a listen to songs like "There's a tear in my beer", or "I'm so lonesome I could cry". These are heartfelt ballads that cut to the bone. Songs that any man whose ever been sad, drunk or heartbroken can understand. There are no foolish pretenses. No ulterior motives (like getting some trim from the big breasted brunette in the front row). In fact, Hank used to use a psuedonym for his really sad songs. Luke the Drifter. That way, if you went up to the juke box, you'd know that Luke the Drifter was a really sad (and probably really drunk) Hank. This would avoid accidentally playing a sad song when you meant to play some more up beat, like "Hey Good Lookin'" or Honkey Tonkin'". See? Even way back when, Hank was protecting us from accidental emo. Thanks, Hank. We know you did it because you care.
Some of you may have come across a blog I wrote on myspace a long time ago about tattoos. This is along the same lines. It's ok to be accepting, but some things should be a little bit exclusive. Not everyone should be allowed to do them. Like Willie Nelson teaches us in "Shotgun Willie", "You can't make a record if you ain't got nothin' to say. Can't make a record of you ain't got nothin' to say. You can't play music if you don't know nothin' to play." Take heed, gordos y gordas. There's wisdom in the ages, and in this new era of independence from corporate rule, we have become the Simon Cowells, Paula Abdouls and Randy... uh... what's his last name? Anyway, we're the judges now, and we'll choose our own idols. Let's make 'em earn our respect as well as our underpants. Together, we can slow down the pussification of not only our pop music, but also our people.
Carry on.
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