The continuing tragicomedy that is The RnR Hall Of Fame announced its nominees for 2011. These are just nominees. Only six are guaranteed induction in January. Here are this year's contenders:
· Alice Cooper
· Beastie Boys
· Bon Jovi
· Chic
· Neil Diamond
· Donovan
· Dr. John
· J. Geils Band
· LL Cool J
· Darlene Love
· Laura Nyro
· Donna Summer
· Joe Tex
· Tom Waits
· Chuck Willis
Now, imagine you are a sixty year old bald critic/journalist guy who has never played in a band and makes his living off building up the false legend that musicians are all geniuses possessed with magical powers. Or pretend that you are Rolling Stone founder Jann Wenner, who is essentially the man behind the curtain of the Hall Of Fame.
You have a summer house in The Hamptons and you hobnob with on Jon Bon Jovi, Russell Simmons and Peter Wolf. Why on earth would you sway votes towards Alice Cooper, KISS, Cheap Trick, Motorhead, New York Dolls or other so-called rock bands when you can just give it to Donna Summer, who never wrote or produced anything she sang?
That's who is running this show. That's why year after year the list gets bleaker and dumber. And that's why they do it. To get dorks like me to keep shouting about the pointlessness of it all.
The Hall Of Fame is still a joke. Always will be. Period.
I'm just gonna go ahead and start my own hall so I can finally validate all those thousands of hours listening to Yngwie Malmsteen's Rising Force over and over.....
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Monday, September 27, 2010
WE HAVE ASSUMED CONTROL
I never dreamed I would ever get to admit this, but this year has made me feel cool as fuck to be a Rush fan.
It wasn't always that way. I can remember the first time I ever heard them. I was 12 or 13. Sometime in 1981, my only friend at the time was crazy into buying 45s. He picked up the single for Tom Sawyer by some band called Rush, whose name I think I recognized from T-shirts I saw older kids wearing while driving cars I wasn't allowed to get into.
I'm sitting in my buddy's bedroom and he puts this single on and CRASH!!! goes that opening chord to Tom Sawyer. I honestly remember thinking "What kind of singing is that? That's a human being playing that stuff? What is with that drummer in the middle part of the song? Why do I have this heavy feeling in my chest?" Some things in your life, seemingly small to others, stay with you till the grave is dug. This was one of mine.
I bought the Moving Pictures LP soon after that and had my mind completely frozen by YYZ and Witch Hunt. I was converted immediately. This was no ordinary band playing around with blues chord changes and Beatleish melodies. These guys were out to decimate every other band in the rock genre by playing harder, tighter and faster than their contemporaries.
It was pretty hard to get excited over The Doobie Brothers or Bob Seger when I heard 2112 for the first time. Somehow, the combination of bombastic playing and VERY deeply intellectual lyrics inspired by Ayn Rand spoke directly to me and a lot of my friends. I have no real explanation why. We were not the cool kids, we were not the ones guaranteed for academic or financial success, we didn't know girls, but somehow this trio of ugly Canadian dudes wearing kimonos made us think we were special.
I followed this band every album since. Every weird synth phase or weird move they made, I was there. I stood in line overnight to get my first RUSH tickets in 1984 and had the worst seats but the best time. (Al's Donuts!!!)
This music speaks to me on a level completely removed from my other favorite bands.
Fast forward thirty years and hundreds of lost brain cells later, the holy triumvirate of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart suddenly are getting mainstream recognition everywhere. Their 2009 appearance on The Colbert Report (their first on US TV since 1976) was the start. Then came their cameo and plot thread through the movie I LOVE YOU, MAN, and now suddenly they are all over VH1 Classic. I seriously have watched so many Rush concerts on that channel I seriously wonder if they've just given up playing anything else.
This music speaks to me on a level completely removed from my other favorite bands.
Fast forward thirty years and hundreds of lost brain cells later, the holy triumvirate of Geddy Lee, Alex Lifeson and Neil Peart suddenly are getting mainstream recognition everywhere. Their 2009 appearance on The Colbert Report (their first on US TV since 1976) was the start. Then came their cameo and plot thread through the movie I LOVE YOU, MAN, and now suddenly they are all over VH1 Classic. I seriously have watched so many Rush concerts on that channel I seriously wonder if they've just given up playing anything else.
The piece d' resistance has been twofold this year. The first crown jewel is the fascinating and justifying two hour documentary BEYOND THE LIGHTED STAGE by Sam Dunn and Scot MacFayden, who previously helmed two great metal docs, METAL-A HEADBANGER'S JOURNEY and IRON MAIDEN FLIGHT 666. (Must-see for any heavy metal fan if you haven't checked them out by now). The Rush film goes deep into the history of all three band members covering the fact that they too were outcasts with an uphill battle for acceptance from day one. It covers all the changes in style, sound and hairdos the band encountered and cleverly addresses the topic of why and how Rush fans got to be predominantly male and nerdy for so many years. It's also a reminder of how truly funny these three are when not playing such heavy serious music. Go to the bonus menu on the DVD and watch the footage of the band getting drunk at a hunting lodge for further proof.
After you watch that, watch the newly-released entry from the Classic Albums series 2112-Moving Pictures. For the first time, the series has devoted an hour to two albums by the same band. The producers went deep into the subject with interviews from the band as well as one-on-one live demonstrations with Alex, Geddy and Neil walking you through the creative process of writing and playing the stuff that has inspired generations of air guitarists and air drummers around the world. It makes for a great companion piece and if this doesn't satisfy your inner RUSH geek, you'll just have to wait for the next album and tour.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
BLOOD INTO WINE
Love him, hate him, or even if you just don't get him, Maynard James Keenan refuses to fit the mold of rock star.
Maynard is the front man for three highly successful and musically diverse bands, TOOL, A Perfect Circle and Puscifer. He typically and literally shuns the limelight. When you go to see TOOL or APC, Maynard is usually standing behind the drum riser shrouded in shadows or silhouetted in front of a mind-expanding video presentation for two hours. He rarely says more than a couple lines to the crowd and almost never does photo shoots or interviews.
Normally, I would think these actions would simply be due to the fact that he's a prick. Why would people pay to see a band they can't actually SEE? I am here to confess that Maynard gets away with it.
I've seen TOOL three or four times in concert since 1997. They are stunning as a live act, on par with Pink Floyd or Rush. I realized at the most recent show I saw at Planet Hollywood Theater in Vegas that the reason the band stays in the shadows is to let the fans (of which there were thousands that night) get their own fulfillment from the songs. Whether the fans were inebriated, distracted by the visuals, or just working out their frustrations and/or ecstasies from witnessing the music live, it was all about the artist and the audience taking a journey together. At the end of the show, I can honestly say that I felt better than when the show started.
Maynard is definitely out to tackle as much of life as he can, this being obvious in his most recent non-musical adventure, Merkin Vineyards. Yes, he makes his own wine. In Arizona, no less.
The new documentary, Blood And Wine, shows the process and struggles Maynard encountered when deciding how to shape his newfound passion. He wanted to treat wine making like he treats his music, organic, honest and uncompromising. He found a visionary partner in Eric Glomski, whom is essentially the co-star of this movie and has his own infinite passion with wine making and the environmental connection it brings.
The best thing I can say about Blood And Wine is that if you are a fan of Maynard's work, you will be satisfied and surprised. If you know nothing about the music but love wine or even just documentary films, you too will be satisfied and surprised. It's not an ego piece, but rather a surprisingly open look at how one person treats everything they do in life as an artistic expression and as a tool (pardon the pun) for working out their problems and points of view.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
TOO TOUGH TO DIE
Johnny Ramone died exactly six years ago today.
The Ramones completely changed my existence and my outlook on the world. This happened on exactly August 5, 1990. I was a casual fan and went with a friend of mine from LA who was really excited a band that didn't sound like Night Ranger was coming to Vegas. They were on the Escape From NY tour with Debbie Harry and Tom Tom Club. They were second on the bill but it was obvious from all the T-shirts in the crowd who the main draw really was.
In those days, most bands I liked were starting to ride the "glam train" into the new decade and their image (in my mind) was suffering for it. I didn't like KISS and Dio wearing bigger brighter colors and grinding themselves into cliched corners with bigger stage shows and longer solos. Needless to say, The Ramones entered my life at just the right time.
The first chord was literally like a lightning bolt into my brain. I had never seen a band with such military precision and intense energy feeding back and forth between the audience and the band. They didn't say hi to the crowd, they didn't switch guitars, they didn't waste time. I got 30 songs in exactly 60 minutes. Even better, every song sounded instantly familiar to me, like a Beatles song cross-pollinated with Motorhead's rhythm section. For the first time at a concert,I was a different person than when I entered the venue.
My intense infatuation with them only grew with every passing year after they retired in 1996. I knew they were gone for good with no sign of a reunion tour ever. One thing about The Ramones, they never bullshitted the fans.
That was Axl Rose's job.
Still is.
Joey died in 2001. Then Dee Dee in 2002. In between those passings, I somehow bumped into Johnny Ramone at Burbank airport. He got off the plane from Vegas I was boarding. I literally stole a pen from a gift shop just to grab his autograph. He could not have been nicer. He actually stopped his day for two minutes just to chat and talk about his legacy and Marilyn Manson with me (he had just been MM's guest in Vegas). We shook hands and parted ways. I've never been starstruck on that level since. I honestly stared at my hand the whole flight home thinking "I just shook hands with the inventor of Punk Rock Guitar!!"
When he died in 2004, I was at a bar when I heard the news. I got really really shitfaced and proceeded to try and get into a fight with anyone I could. I had no luck. I was just another surly drunk in a city that breeds them. As far as I was concerned, Punk Rock was officially dead that night. It kills me to admit that I was right. Name me one great Punk band in the last six years. I'll wait.....
Johnny Ramone helped me realize that it was okay to be weird in a world of squares. It was okay to be tough and stick to your convictions and not kiss anyone's ass to make them like me or my group of friends.
If you have time, rent this movie. You will be amazed at how many other brilliant people share my feelings about him.....
The Ramones completely changed my existence and my outlook on the world. This happened on exactly August 5, 1990. I was a casual fan and went with a friend of mine from LA who was really excited a band that didn't sound like Night Ranger was coming to Vegas. They were on the Escape From NY tour with Debbie Harry and Tom Tom Club. They were second on the bill but it was obvious from all the T-shirts in the crowd who the main draw really was.
In those days, most bands I liked were starting to ride the "glam train" into the new decade and their image (in my mind) was suffering for it. I didn't like KISS and Dio wearing bigger brighter colors and grinding themselves into cliched corners with bigger stage shows and longer solos. Needless to say, The Ramones entered my life at just the right time.
The first chord was literally like a lightning bolt into my brain. I had never seen a band with such military precision and intense energy feeding back and forth between the audience and the band. They didn't say hi to the crowd, they didn't switch guitars, they didn't waste time. I got 30 songs in exactly 60 minutes. Even better, every song sounded instantly familiar to me, like a Beatles song cross-pollinated with Motorhead's rhythm section. For the first time at a concert,I was a different person than when I entered the venue.
My intense infatuation with them only grew with every passing year after they retired in 1996. I knew they were gone for good with no sign of a reunion tour ever. One thing about The Ramones, they never bullshitted the fans.
That was Axl Rose's job.
Still is.
Joey died in 2001. Then Dee Dee in 2002. In between those passings, I somehow bumped into Johnny Ramone at Burbank airport. He got off the plane from Vegas I was boarding. I literally stole a pen from a gift shop just to grab his autograph. He could not have been nicer. He actually stopped his day for two minutes just to chat and talk about his legacy and Marilyn Manson with me (he had just been MM's guest in Vegas). We shook hands and parted ways. I've never been starstruck on that level since. I honestly stared at my hand the whole flight home thinking "I just shook hands with the inventor of Punk Rock Guitar!!"
When he died in 2004, I was at a bar when I heard the news. I got really really shitfaced and proceeded to try and get into a fight with anyone I could. I had no luck. I was just another surly drunk in a city that breeds them. As far as I was concerned, Punk Rock was officially dead that night. It kills me to admit that I was right. Name me one great Punk band in the last six years. I'll wait.....
Johnny Ramone helped me realize that it was okay to be weird in a world of squares. It was okay to be tough and stick to your convictions and not kiss anyone's ass to make them like me or my group of friends.
If you have time, rent this movie. You will be amazed at how many other brilliant people share my feelings about him.....
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
INTEGRITY..WHAT A CONCEPT.
The fact that this story is newsworthy says a lot to me about the state of the dying music industry today.
The severely untalented cuntestant (yeah, I said it!) from BBC's Britian's Got Talent, Susan Boyle, flew from her underwater cave in Loch Ness to LA to film a performance on the equally untalented AMERICA'S GOT TALENT TV series. The show she was going to perform was to be Lou Reed's brilliant, moody masterpiece "PERFECT DAY".
Lou Reed, however, declined Susan Boyle and the show permission to perform the song allegedly because he is not a fan of Boyle. Whether or not that is really the case, I cannot commend Lou's actions enough. I'm sorry there aren't more like him. If he sees someone do his songs the right way from an artistic point of view, I'm sure he appreciates the recognition. I'm happy to see him speak out against the "Instant Stardom" route these god-awful TV shows take making karaoke hacks like SuBo look like bona fide artists.
People who buy one CD a year at Target buy into the Susan Boyle hype. Let tehm. They made Celine Dion and Michael Bolton famous, too. What would the world be without music for people who have no real taste?
Thanks again to guys like Lou Reed and Neil Young, etc. who actually still give a shit about their fans and their reputations.
The severely untalented cuntestant (yeah, I said it!) from BBC's Britian's Got Talent, Susan Boyle, flew from her underwater cave in Loch Ness to LA to film a performance on the equally untalented AMERICA'S GOT TALENT TV series. The show she was going to perform was to be Lou Reed's brilliant, moody masterpiece "PERFECT DAY".
Lou Reed, however, declined Susan Boyle and the show permission to perform the song allegedly because he is not a fan of Boyle. Whether or not that is really the case, I cannot commend Lou's actions enough. I'm sorry there aren't more like him. If he sees someone do his songs the right way from an artistic point of view, I'm sure he appreciates the recognition. I'm happy to see him speak out against the "Instant Stardom" route these god-awful TV shows take making karaoke hacks like SuBo look like bona fide artists.
People who buy one CD a year at Target buy into the Susan Boyle hype. Let tehm. They made Celine Dion and Michael Bolton famous, too. What would the world be without music for people who have no real taste?
Thanks again to guys like Lou Reed and Neil Young, etc. who actually still give a shit about their fans and their reputations.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
MACHETE
I grew up loving B movies. B movies got their name in the days of drive-ins when there would be an A movie like, say, Bonnie And Clyde and then a B movie to follow it like, say, Biker Party. I think the purpose of the B movie was just to have something less distracting for people to make out in their vehicles to.
B movies have a certain sensibility that I will always love. They don't try to be serious or artistic or important. They have no qualms about violence, nudity or highly implausible scenarios. They just know exactly how to give the people what they want. Action, blood and boobs.
The genre kind of faded with the extinction of drive-ins, although it nearly came back with GRINDHOUSE by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino in 2007. In that movie, there was a fake B movie trailer called MACHETE starring Danny Trejo as a one man army. In a bizarre chain of events, somebody managed to get a real movie made based on a fake movie commercial.
The story is about a former Mexican Federale who goes on a revenge spree after a mobster (Steven Seagal) kills his wife and child. Along the way, he is hired to assassinate a Senator (Robert DeNiro) and then set up by the same men who hired him. He also gets involved with an immigration official (Jessica Alba), a revolutionary (Michelle Rodriguez), a corrupt border patrolman (Don Johnson) and an even more corrupt political aide (Jeff Fahey).
The remaining 90 minutes are just an onslaught of bloody violence and explosions and stunts, with a "message" subplot about the political shenanigans surrounding the immigration debate. It's all done very tongue in cheek and thanks to this movie I learned several new ways to kill a muthafucka.
All the actors in the film were great (even Lindsay Lohan and the Michelin Man Of Mayhem, Steven Seagal) but this movie belonged to Danny Trejo. Trejo has been a great supporting actor in countless movies like "Desperado" and "Heat" as well as Rob Zombie's Halloween remake, but he finally gets to be in every scene this time, and it's quite obvious writer-director Robert Rodriguez made this movie just for him.
The best thing I can say about MACHETE is it felt like a throwback to a time when movies were made fast and cheap with no budget for CGI or modern rock songs or a cross-promotional marketing blitz. This is one of those movies that is not for everyone. But I am proud to say it was made for people like me.
B movies have a certain sensibility that I will always love. They don't try to be serious or artistic or important. They have no qualms about violence, nudity or highly implausible scenarios. They just know exactly how to give the people what they want. Action, blood and boobs.
The genre kind of faded with the extinction of drive-ins, although it nearly came back with GRINDHOUSE by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino in 2007. In that movie, there was a fake B movie trailer called MACHETE starring Danny Trejo as a one man army. In a bizarre chain of events, somebody managed to get a real movie made based on a fake movie commercial.
The story is about a former Mexican Federale who goes on a revenge spree after a mobster (Steven Seagal) kills his wife and child. Along the way, he is hired to assassinate a Senator (Robert DeNiro) and then set up by the same men who hired him. He also gets involved with an immigration official (Jessica Alba), a revolutionary (Michelle Rodriguez), a corrupt border patrolman (Don Johnson) and an even more corrupt political aide (Jeff Fahey).
The remaining 90 minutes are just an onslaught of bloody violence and explosions and stunts, with a "message" subplot about the political shenanigans surrounding the immigration debate. It's all done very tongue in cheek and thanks to this movie I learned several new ways to kill a muthafucka.
All the actors in the film were great (even Lindsay Lohan and the Michelin Man Of Mayhem, Steven Seagal) but this movie belonged to Danny Trejo. Trejo has been a great supporting actor in countless movies like "Desperado" and "Heat" as well as Rob Zombie's Halloween remake, but he finally gets to be in every scene this time, and it's quite obvious writer-director Robert Rodriguez made this movie just for him.
The best thing I can say about MACHETE is it felt like a throwback to a time when movies were made fast and cheap with no budget for CGI or modern rock songs or a cross-promotional marketing blitz. This is one of those movies that is not for everyone. But I am proud to say it was made for people like me.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
BACK ON THE BLOG
Heard ya missed me...Well, I'm Back!!!
I'm back from summer hiatus. I figure, TV shows and teachers take summers off, why not me, too?
Really, I just got sick and tired of making excuses for my laziness to Gina and Demo Dave. Apparently, they look forward to these little written Tourette's exercises of mine. I love my fans so much I can never deny them what they want.
That's Showbiz.
Honestly, I have had ideas on what to write for three months and have struggled with summoning the energy to produce it. I need to go through a certain ritual to do these. I have to be relaxed enough to just stare at the screen for about ten minutes and write nothing. I have to play music I feel like listening to that won't distract me (at the moment it's Herbie Hancock). Essentially, I need to make a commitment to finish what I start.
The primary impetus for this blog today is a new transition I am facing in my life. I work full time, am enrolled in three college courses and have a very busy schedule making time for my loved ones. But because I also love doing this so much and I know how much better I will feel when I post this, I am promisiing to MYSELF that this will be a part of my daily routine.
The feedback I get from any of you who are willing to sacrifice a few minutes of your day to read these posts is like gold to me. I am truly humbled from the bottom of my cold black heart.
When I decided to restart this thing, I was reminded of an obscure Rush song called "Losing It". It's a soft, subtle gem of a tune with lyrics that vividly paint images of people who mastered their chosen art only to watch it disappear like a rapid sunset. If I ever tell myself I am too busy to do this, I will watch the attached video and pay attention to the lyrics after the jump.....
The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration
Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire
With just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory
The echoes of old applause
She limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door...
The writer stare with glassy eyes
Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage
Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision
And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more...
Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...
I'm back from summer hiatus. I figure, TV shows and teachers take summers off, why not me, too?
Really, I just got sick and tired of making excuses for my laziness to Gina and Demo Dave. Apparently, they look forward to these little written Tourette's exercises of mine. I love my fans so much I can never deny them what they want.
That's Showbiz.
Honestly, I have had ideas on what to write for three months and have struggled with summoning the energy to produce it. I need to go through a certain ritual to do these. I have to be relaxed enough to just stare at the screen for about ten minutes and write nothing. I have to play music I feel like listening to that won't distract me (at the moment it's Herbie Hancock). Essentially, I need to make a commitment to finish what I start.
The primary impetus for this blog today is a new transition I am facing in my life. I work full time, am enrolled in three college courses and have a very busy schedule making time for my loved ones. But because I also love doing this so much and I know how much better I will feel when I post this, I am promisiing to MYSELF that this will be a part of my daily routine.
The feedback I get from any of you who are willing to sacrifice a few minutes of your day to read these posts is like gold to me. I am truly humbled from the bottom of my cold black heart.
When I decided to restart this thing, I was reminded of an obscure Rush song called "Losing It". It's a soft, subtle gem of a tune with lyrics that vividly paint images of people who mastered their chosen art only to watch it disappear like a rapid sunset. If I ever tell myself I am too busy to do this, I will watch the attached video and pay attention to the lyrics after the jump.....
The dancer slows her frantic pace
In pain and desperation
Her aching limbs and downcast face
Aglow with perspiration
Stiff as wire, her lungs on fire
With just the briefest pause
The flooding through her memory
The echoes of old applause
She limps across the floor
And closes her bedroom door...
The writer stare with glassy eyes
Defies the empty page
His beard is white, his face is lined
And streaked with tears of rage
Thirty years ago, how the words would flow
With passion and precision
But now his mind is dark and dulled
By sickness and indecision
And he stares out the kitchen door
Where the sun will rise no more...
Some are born to move the world
To live their fantasies
But most of us just dream about
The things we'd like to be
Sadder still to watch it die
Than never to have known it
For you, the blind who once could see
The bell tolls for thee...
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