Miscellaneous Classic Rock
On this page here is where you’ll find reviews of records by “classic rock” artists for whom I don’t have close enough to the full discography to do a full page. Some artists that appear here will eventually get upgraded to their own pages if and when I do get their full (more or less) discographies. Others, either because their discography is too damn big, they suck, or I’m lazy, will not. The third reason is the most likely, by the way. Anyway, for the purposes of this page, I define “classic rock” as artists that emerged any time pre-Nirvana/grunge/alternative/that whole thing. I basically do that since that’s what I grew up on, so anything prior to that seems “classic” to me. As an example, though the Red Hot Chili Peppers started in like the early-‘80’s, they didn’t “emerge” until the early ’90’s, so in theory they’d be on the ‘90’s page, whereas U2 started only a few years before the Peppers, but “emerged” well before them, so they get put here. I hope that makes sense to you. If it doesn’t…tough. It’s my site, you know. Anyway, onto the reviews.
Albums Reviewed:
AC/DC:
Jeff Beck:
Minutemen:
Joni Mitchell:
Van Morrison:
Queen:
The Sex Pistols:
Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s The Sex Pistols
AC/DC:
Back In Black (1980)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “You Shook Me All Night Long”
This is one ASS-KICKING album. You think Led Zeppelin kicks ass? AC/DC don’t even know the MEANING of the word “ballad.” “Highway To Hell” is probably a ballad to them because it’s a little slower than a lot of their other stuff, and by “other stuff,” I mean this record, since this record and that song are, currently, my full exposure to AC/DC. I’m probably not missing too much, though. I mean, I’m sure it’s pretty good, and it will most definitely kick serious loads of ass, but it will probably all sound the same, because EVERY SONG ON THIS ALBUM SOUNDS LIKE THE SAME GODDAMN SONG. Now, every song is good, ofcourse, and a few are really, really good, but they’re also all the same. Oh, sure, some are a little faster or slower, the specific riffs themselves differ from song to song, yadda yadda yadda, but if you’re not paying close attention you won’t notice. If I were to hear one of these songs by itself on the radio while driving or something, it’d be PERFECT, and if I could milk that vibe while listening to the entire record at my computer, then ofcourse it’d get a 10. There’s a few problems with that, however. First, I’m at my computer, not driving. Second, I have to listen to TEN of these songs in a row. By the time “Shake A Leg” comes, I’m a bit tired of hearing the same thing over and over again. Now, if albums were made such that you listen to one song, take a half-hour break, listen to another, take a half-hour break, and so on, ofcourse this would rock the bejesus out of me. Alas, they don’t, and forty minutes of this can get a bit tiresome, because it’s ALL THE SAME FRICKIN’ THING.
The only
part that sounds different from EVERYTHING else on the record is the opening
few seconds of “Hells Bells,” the first track, which are, funnily enough,
bells. And really LOUD cool-sounding
church bells. You’ve probably heard it,
as well as a few other songs here. I
guess it’s a little slower than the song that comes after it, “Shoot To
Thrill,” so there’s variety for you.
Now, “Shoot To Thrill” actually has a really neat middle part that would
DEFINITELY constitute “variety.” It
rocks my socks off. I think this is the
second best song on the album, trailing only, obviously, “You Shook Me All
Night Long,” one of the defining strip club songs of our generation and
something you’ve no doubt heard about 34,602 times. I LOVE the video too, like how Brian Johnson
comes into the chick’s room carrying like 5 handles of liquor, sees the chick,
shrugs, and just drops them. What a
bunch of badass blokes these guys are.
They don’t give no shit ‘bout nobody or nothin’! They just wanna
booze, cruise, and schmooooooooze with the
ladies! They probably seem like
perfectly nice boys in
Anyway,
back to the album, and I find it VERY interesting how the five badass blokes in
the band sequenced it. The two sides are
sequenced pretty much identically. Each
one starts with two “hits” (I’m assuming the band had an inkling if what the
hits would be, or else my theory falls very flat), first a slower one, then a
faster one, and then the hits are followed by, um, three other songs. I guess it’s not the greatest theory, but I
usually don’t come up with too many theories, so I’ll take what I can get. Anyway, side one starts with “Hell’s Bells,”
followed by “Shoot To Thrill,” and then followed by “What You Do For Money
Honey,” “Given The Dog A Bone,” and “Let Me Put My Love Into You.” Side two starts with the title track, then
“You Shook Me All Night Long,” and then the less-raunchily-titled-than-side-one
“Have A Drink On Me,” “Shake A Leg,” and “Rock And Roll Ain’t
Noise Pollution.” The three “other”
songs on side one are quite dirty, though you probably don’t need me to tell
you that. Just look at the song titles! I’d love to see Coldplay
put out a song called “Given The Dog A Bone.”
That’d be funny. They’d lose their
ENTIRE fan base, except me, I guess.
Unless, ofcourse, the song sucked, then they’d
lose me too. Anyway, my favorite line in
the album comes from one of side two’s “other” songs, “Have A Drink On
Me:” “So come on and have a good time,
and get blinded out of your mind!”
Yes! It may not be profound or
anything. Actually, it’s the complete
opposite OF profound, but, being a horny drunk college student and all, it
resonates with the side of me that wants to drink WAY too much tequila and go
and pork a whole bunch of drug-addled rock groupies. Oh, I’m sorry
Unfortunately, I’m often at parties when this happens and instead have to settle for Ja Rule. Damn him. I wish I could make millions of dollars for yelling “UH-HUH! YEAH! YOU GO J-LO!” in a husky voice. But I’m too white.
Pedro Andino
(pedroandino@msn.com) writes:
like
Jeff
Beck:
Truth (1968)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “Beck’s Bolero”
It’s not my fault that, in the absence of an
ACTUAL, all-powerful, all-encompassing god that created the earth, watches over
us at all moments of the day, speaks to retards, appears in tacos, and commanded
Mel Gibson to make the bloodiest movie in the history of the world, I believe
Led Zeppelin is God. It’s not my fault
that Rod Stewart bothers the crap out of me, and that I can’t listen to him
sing at all without picturing him a) crooning “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” in hideous spandex 25 years ago or b)
shamelessly pandering to middle-aged housewives today. Neither of these things are my fault, but
they DO affect my enjoyment of this record.
I know it got put out before Led Zeppelin’s debut, but I can’t help but
compare the two, especially the two’s drummers, and though this one doesn’t
have any total shit waste of time tracks like “I Can’t Quit You Baby,” Mick
Waller (like every other drummer
in the world around this time
period) can’t produce the volume or power of Bonzo,
so the blues tracks (of which there are, like, a lot) can’t TOUCH “Dazed
and Confused” or “How Many More Times” or something, even though they’re all
good and enjoyable and well-performed. I
think I’ve been able to get over the Rod Stewart thing, though, since in 1968
he hadn’t yet done any of the douchebag shit he’d yet
do…but, I mean, come on, he’s still Rod Stewart.
Oh well. I do like this album a lot. There’s not a single track here I
dislike. Rod basically sounds like Robert
Plant, but a little lower-pitched and minus the orgasms. Jeff’s rhythm section, drummer Waller and
bassist Ron Wood (current 2nd guitarist for…The Rolling Stones!) are
very nice and competent and drive the tunes well. Jeff Beck is obviously a GREAT guitar player,
and, at least from what I can tell on this album, ditches some of the power and
flash of Jimmy Page for a little more subtlety and texture (including a good
bit of WAH-WAH! Hee!). There are some nice keyboards on here, too,
better than anything you’ll find on a Zeppelin album until either IV
or Houses of the Holy. Dig
the organ and tinkly boogie piano side by side in
“You Shook Me” (Yup, the same song that’s on Zeppelin’s debut! Only less powerful and two minutes
long)! Dig the subtle backing organ in “Ol’ Man River!” Dig
the cool piano in “Blues Deluxe!” There
are more, but giving you more than three specific examples would just be fucktarted. That and
I forget which others have that stuff in them off the top of my head, and it’s
not like I’m gonna start clicking around on these
tracks to remember which ones do. That’d
just be fucking stupid.
Anyhoo, if
you dig blues standards you think you’ve heard before, but can’t quite place,
played in better versions than you remember (except “You Shook Me,” which is
done better by Zep), you’ll probably dig this
record. Why? Well, because Jeff Beck can’t write a goddamn
song, and Rod Stewart can’t either, and the rhythm section can’t either (DUH!),
they just recycle/reuse a bunch of stuff they already know! The only exceptions to the blooooooze-rock formula are the PRETTY acoustic
instrumental “Greensleeves,” which sounds like
something you’d hear at Christmas, and the fascinating “Beck’s Bolero,” which
basically rearranges a piece of classical music into hard rock band format, and
is fucking NEAT. The rest, though? Blues!
Blooze!
Hooray for blooziness! Blooooooooooooooz! Besides “You Shook Me,” “Ol’
Man River,” and “Shapes of Things,” an old Yardbirds
tune which really isn’t that bluesy (I should think before I type),
I don’t know where any of this damn stuff’s from, but it’s cool! It’s not really as powerful as the stuff Zeppelin was doing concurrently, but it’s still solid and
well-played and performed and poo. My favorites of what’s left are probably the
jumpy “Morning Dew,” which I swear breaks down into fusion or some crap in the
middle with wah-wah guitar and fast, hypnotic
drumming, and “I Ain’t Superstitious,” which pretty
much rocks my fucking house down despite the goddamn drum solo near the
end. “Let Me Love You” is a nice rocker
that really sounds like something Led Zeppelin would
do, “Rock My Plimsoul” is a REALLY generic blues, but
good, and the live “Blues Deluxe,” though damn cool at parts, runs a
little long for my tastes. But it’s not
bad! Everything on this album is good
and enjoyable. There really aren’t any
weak spots. It’s just, on the whole, not
as good as the best stuff Led Zeppelin was doing at the time, because the band
is more restrained in their attack (except, funnily enough, for the second half
of the classical “Beck’s Bolero,” where Jeff just lets the motherfucker LOOSE)
and thus less powerful and engrossing. I
always like it a lot when it’s playing, and I’d definitely recommend it to
anyone with a passing interest in this type of music (Hi Al!), but I just can’t
help but compare it to Led Zeppelin.
Give me Page over Beck, Bonzo over Waller, and
Robert over Rod (Ron Wood vs. JPJ I could give a crap about…except Ron doesn’t
play keyboards, does he, hmmmm?). And, yeah, I’m a little biased. Like I’m “a little biased” towards the Red
Sox or against Republicans. So sue me.
Boston
Rating: 9
Best Song: “Peace Of Mind”
Man, is this album FUN! I mean, it has about as much “deep meaning” as the hairs that grow on the bottom of my ballsack, but, dude, FUN! I mean, this really is the ULTIMATE specimen of the seventies AOR stadium-rock genre. The production is so almost sickeningly note-perfect with the multitracked guitars and multitracked vocals and big, full organs and a rhythm section that really doesn’t do anything at all. It’s ridiculously easy to see why this thing sold about 69 googa-gajillion copies of itself back in 1976. Can’t you just picture like mid-seventies suburban upper-middle-class kids cruising down the beltway in their seventies boat-car convertibles absolutely BLASTING “More Than A Feeling” or “Rock And Roll Band?” I sure can. I bet radio programmers had a giant collective orgasm (*SPPPPPPPPPPPPPLOOOOCH!!!!* …ahhhhhhhhhhhh…) when they heard this thing for the first time.
It’s easy to see why it gets slagged on so much, too.
“
Thankfully, however, the songs are GOOD! REALLY good. I mean, ofcourse they’re enhanced the by note-perfect production, but DON’T TELL ME the album-opening one-two punch of “More Than A Feeling” and “Peace Of Mind” wouldn’t have been fine songs on their own. “More Than A Feeling” is quite possibly the pinnacle of generic overproduced seventies stadium rock and gets played on the radio every five minutes, but, to me, “Peace Of Mind” is even better! “I don’t care about indeciiiisioooooooon!” Um…whatever. Sure sounds cool coming from the Bradley Delp Memorial Choir backed by the Tom Scholz Philharmonic Guitar Orchestra! Every song on here is prime-quality Grade-A pig poop. Scholz probably spent about six months working on every goddamn one, so they better be! “Foreplay/Long Time” is the token extended tune with the creepy keyboard intro I mentioned before. “Rock And Roll Band” is a rockin’ good time, with fake crowd-cheering noises. “Smokin’” has neat organ work in addition to the usual perfectly-planned-out guitar histrionics. The two-minute (yet most likely recorded over a period of two MONTHS) guitar solo at the end of is “Hitch A Ride” is solid fun. “Something About You” and “Let Me Take You Home Tonight” are “ballads” (sorta) because the album already had enough “rockers” (sorta). They both rule, ofcourse. You hear them on the radio every five minutes, too, just like everything here. Oh, that reminds me…
Could this album be any MORE
overplayed on classic rock radio stations?
Good GOD. I mean, ofcourse, it’s a superb record, but, jesus.
It’s by FAR the most-played record on my
local station. It’s the only record,
still, from which I’ve heard EVERY song on good ol’
WZLX (Led Zeppelin IV comes close, but I’ve never heard “Four
Sticks”). Not only that, but I’ve
probably heard every song like at LEAST twenty goddamn times.
Pedro Andino
(pedroandino@msn.com) writes:
I used to giggle about
it but I think it did have special place in the dj's
hearts for every song played on the radio for 5 minuets.
Minutemen:
Double Nickels On The Dime (1984)
Rating:
9
Best
Song: “
OK, so my “Miscellaneous Classic Rock” page has officially jumped the shark. Does it make any goddamn sense to have the Minutemen, Joni Mitchell, and AC/DC on the same page? The fuck it does. I considered just completely ruining it by doing a song-by-song review for this album, too. That would’ve been a good time. I tossed out the idea, though, when I realized I can only recall how like seven or eight of these FORTY-THREE tunes across seventy-three minutes go by name alone. I guess that’s what happens when you try to go and “be productive” when listening to music. In the time it takes me to check my email, something like five tracks on this bad boy have come and gone. Trying to recall the slight difference between the bass lines of “God Bows to Math” and “The Roar of the Masses Could Be Farts” is something I simply choose not to do (watch those tracks be like the acoustic guitar solos now and not even have bass lines. I just have no fucking idea. And I’ve listened to this album like 15 times!). I don’t have the will power.
Whatever, it rules anyway. The Minutemen were three fine young men from San Pedro, CA and members of the “hardcore” scene in the early eighties out there, about which I know absolutely nothing at all (go ask Mark Prindle), except that I doubt most hardcore sounded like the 90-second snippets of crisp, sarcastic funk-rock that constitute this record album. I’m sure it has many of those qualities, yes, but “funk-rock” is probably not one of them. And I don’t mean “funk rock” in that stodgy, mid-70’s commercial white-boy pseudo-funk way, but in a very impressive, crisp, clean, snappy, wonderfully unique way. The rhythm section of Mike Watt on bass and George Hurley on skins is excellent, for instance. Watt tosses out some of the most consistently impressive bass lines I’ve ever heard this side of Chris Squire, and Hurley is just a technically-perfect motherfucker who also excels at building and keeping a groove. To be honest, a lot of these songs don’t even need guitar or singing in them, so great is the rhythm work, but fat man D. Boon fills in ably anyway with his amelodic but full of personality political shout-singing and funk-inflected guitar riffing, even topping it off with some flashy, impressive solos! The hell? On a hardcore record? Yes! The band even poke fun at themselves in, um…oh, hell, one of the songs (who the hell knows, there are SO FUCKING MANY) when D. goes “we’d cuss more in our songs, and cut down on guitar solos!!!!” before ripping into one himself. It’s hiiiiilarious!
Don’t get
the wrong idea, though. This double
album consists of things other than 90-second snippets of snappy
funk-rock. There are moody acoustic
guitar solo ramblings (“Cohesion”), punky slamming
rock tracks (“Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing”…oh! That’s the one with the “…and cut down on
guitar solos!” line! Gotta
love that shit…), some out-and-out pop
songs (the SUPERB, hick-inflected
“Corona,” which definitely the best tune here AND the Jackass theme, the funny “Dr. Wu”), some avant-garde experimental
tracks (um…can’t give you a title here…there
are forty-three goddamn songs, OK?), and plenty of other entertaining
material that I have trouble recalling specifically because I’ve only been
typing this review for 15 minutes and I’m already like on track 12. Do you realize how fucking annoying that
is? The only times I can match up title
to track are when D. Boon yells out the title over and over again, like
“Toadies” or “This Ain’t No Picnic” or “Jesus and
Tequila.” I know what song “
There’s a reason I haven’t talked all that much about the music on this album, and it’s that I usually construct such a discussion by referencing specific songs, and how do you reference specific songs when an album has forty-three, and they’re all over before they reach two minutes? Most of them don’t even have choruses or proper endings! They just cut off! But they rule! The instrumental skill, melodic knowhow, and excellent lyrics contained herein should speak for themselves. Listening to so many short little songs that sound so similar played by a three-piece band with no overdubs whatsoever and sung by a guy that can’t sing can get a little annoying, ofcourse. And the sarcasm of D. can wear thin on someone who doesn’t like sarcasm (not a problem for me!). So I guess that’s my cautionary warning. But they’re so catchy and rhythmically superb! And there’s a song here called “The World According to Nouns,” too, which is just awesome. So I say high-fives all around.
Joni
Mitchell:
Ladies Of The Canyon (1970)
Rating: 7
Best Song: “Big Yellow
Taxi”
Now, before you get some kind of crazy idea like that I might actually have diverse musical tastes, let me say that this type of music here, the female confessional singer-songwriter, isn’t usually my bag. But you probably could’ve guessed that. I have this album and the other one by Lady Joni because a friend and I had this goofy “weekly musical trade” thing going on sophomore year, and she lent me a few Joni Mitchell albums which I then burned because, hey, free music (and that Dream Theater album about the hypnosis homicide mystery thing is getting reviewed pretty soon for the same reason…eclectic musical tastes this girl has, eh?). I converted her to Radiohead fandom with this thing, and on the other end, even though no one’s ever gonna see me at Lilith Fair, I found out that Joni Mitchell is sorta cool. Sometimes (often) sorta kinda boring, but pretty cool, nonetheless.
This record here isn’t supposed to be like one of her absolute undisputed classics (the other one, Blue, is…and it’s better than this one), but it’s still OK. The album sorta bores me a lot, though. For instance, I honestly can’t recall a damn thing about the entire piano-heavy five song stretch from “(Free) Willy” to “(I’m) Blue (Da ba dee, da ba dye) Boy,” and even though one of these songs is actually based on an acoustic guitar, I can’t really recall which one. They’re just meandering, like they keep going with no real point except to bore me until my Joni Mitchell-freak mother runs into my room going “OH MY GOD! YOU’RE LISTENING TO JONI MITCHELL!!” like this somehow makes me a better son, and all those Black Sabbath albums I listened to earlier in the summer didn’t matter to someone who listens only to Joni Mitchell, the Kingston Trio, and NPR Public Radio all day and hasn’t even heard of the Police.
The beginning
and end of the album have it all over the middle in terms of memorability, though, even though I REALLY don’t like the
last two songs like I’m supposed to.
“Woodstock” has a cool organ sound in it, yeah (the only step away from
the “piano or acoustic guitar, one or the other” instrumentation formula of
BOTH Joni Mitchell albums I have), but it goes slower than Sigur
Ros and has even less energy, and I know “The Circle
Game” is one of Joni’s most famous songs, but I JUST DON’T LIKE IT. Sorry, Joni fans. It sounds like a
But far be
it for me to give a 7 to an album without any good songs on it. “Morning
Then, ofcourse, “Big Yellow Taxi” (that “they paved paradise, put up a parking lot” song) is the best tune here, and is much, much, much better than the bullshit crap asswipe cover the Counting Crows have on the radio right now. I think such songs should be banned from being hits, unless you completely change the song into something totally unrecognizable (Hendrix’s “All Along the Watchtower”) or at least do a REALLY, REALLY, REALLY good job with it (the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Landslide” cover, Van Halen’s entire career before Roth left and they started to suck). Otherwise, write your own fucking songs, you lazy douchebags. The Dixie Chicks’ slaughtering of “Landslide” remains one of the worst things I’ve ever heard. One of my unbreakable tenets of popular music is, at least post like the late sixties or so (whenever covers stopped being common), to NEVER EVER EVER trust a band whose first hit is a cover. Examples of this include: Limp Bizkit, Alien Ant Farm, and a bunch of other one-hit wonder artists I don’t remember because I don’t work at VH1.
But I’ve lost my train of
thought. This album’s OK, but, unless
you normally lean towards that sort of slow, confessional, singer-songwriter
slop, you won’t love it all that much. It’s
basically the kind of slow, boring, yet objectively good music I’d give a 6
were it not for a few kick-ass tunes (“Conversation,” “Big Yellow Taxi”) and
the fact that Joni Mitchell actually seems like a pretty cool chick. Like, whereas most female singers either make
me want to act indignantly (but not slug them in the face, because they’re
GIRLS!) at their rampant, self-righteous feminism or turn into an overexcited,
pre-neutering dog and do unspeakable acts to their lower leg, Joni inspires me
to act like a perfectly chivalrous gentleman, doing all those chivalrous things
that chivalrous men do. Whatever they
are. So I’ll bump it up.
Blue (1971)
Rating: 8
Best Song: “
Even though these two records happen to have been released back to back, I’m reviewing them for the sole reason that I’ve had them for like two years and I don’t feel like ripping into U2’s career just yet (that’s in another month or two). This isn’t like a Jethro Tull thing where their two most famous albums were released next to each other, so I can review just those two and, in some sort of incredibly half-assed way, claim to have a pseudo-overview of the band’s career. Thankfully, though, this album is Joni’s most famous. It made that VH1 “100 Greatest Album of Rock and Roll” thing (which Led Zeppelin IV DIDN’T make, but that rant would take us about an hour, so let’s leave it be), and The All Music Guide calls it “the quintessential singer-songwriter album.” When one considers all this stuff, the fact that I gave it an 8 shows that this sort of music will never really be my bag, but also that I DO like it and I DO recommend it and that, if this sort of music IS your bag, you’ll probably eat it up like I eat pussy.
Oh, no, I
mean…shit. Yeah, that’s
good. Put an offensive, sexist joke in a
Joni Mitchell review. That’s
smart, Brad. Really. VERY, VERY SMART.
This
album’s better than Ladies of the Canyon because Joni’s figured out how
not to bore to death a classic hard rock fan like myself. The boring piano slop has been lessened
(there’s a 6:4 guitar:piano ratio on this record,
whereas it was 5:6 with that one crappy organ song on Ladies of (I’m Gonna Jump Over)
Of the
guitar-based material, I’d say “Little Green” is too goddamn boring and the
weakest one here, but “A Case of You,” like “My Old Man” and “Blue,” is a
pretty damn good song despite being something that would suck were it on Ladies. Then there are FOUR upbeat acoustic
tracks! Out of TEN! Instead of two out of twelve! MUCH better ratio. None are as great as “Big Yellow Taxi,” but
that just means that this record, despite not having a no-doubt classic, beats Ladies
into the ground until it comes out in the middle of
Probably not, actually. I just felt like working Led Zeppelin into this review somehow. They’re cool and stuff.
Anyway, this here’s a good album. I’ll like more or less any genre of music if it’s done WELL (although, for some genres, such as country music, for instance, it better be done perfectly), and this album is boring, slow, female confessional singer-songwriting done well.
And, finally, let me say that Joni’s being included in that recently-released Rolling Stone 100 Best Guitarists list is the dumbest thing I’ve seen since I actually watched Corky Romano (“Kill my baby!”) last week. Only like HALF of her songs even have ANY guitar in them! I’ve never trusted Rolling Stone, but this list might be the straw that broke the camel’s back, and I might not even pass by their website as a curiosity anymore (which is all I do now). Besides that, I mean, Kurt Cobain was like #12 or #13 or something. I love Nirvana, remember, but he wasn’t a very good guitarist! This is BEST guitarists, morons, not MOST POPULAR guitarists. Kurt Cobain is NOT a more skilled guitarist than the most influential guitarist of the past 25 years (Eddie Van Halen), the man who invented heavy metal (Tony Iommi), or the best acoustic guitar player in the history of the universe (Steve Howe), and SURE AS HELL isn’t between 60 and 80 spots better than them, as Rolling Stone says he is. Any shred of credibility that this magazine once had is now gone, especially after their claim that, somehow, Jack White is more skilled at his instrument than Robert Fripp, Frank Zappa, or Pete Townshend, not to mention the three guys I mentioned before. Complete bullshit.
For The Roses (1972)
Rating: 7
Best Song: “Cold Blue Steel
And Sweet Fire”
*Sigh*
I really need to stop reviewing Joni Mitchell albums, seeing as how this
type of music is about as aligned with my personal taste as amending the U.S.
constitution for the express purpose of taking away people’s rights (hey, wait a minute…). The point is, I like dude
music. Now, I like to think that I like
GOOD dude music, but it’s not like I’m gonna sit here
and claim my tastes are perfect. Led
Zeppelin is not ACTUALLY god. I just
think so. I’m kinda
dumb. I gave a 10 to Raw Power, which is basically like eight songs of Iggy
Pop yelling about how he’s gonna defile innocent
girls set to guitars with their amps set to 12.
So please understand if I don’t give Joni Mitchell the types of ratings
you think she deserves. The fact that I’m
listening to her AT ALL and giving her good ratings should tell you how much I
like and respect her music and how good I think she is at what she does. What she does just isn’t really my personal
cup of tea.
Now, this album. This one is supposedly the “transitional”
piece between the confessional, singer-songwriter masterpiece Blue (good album!) and the confessional jazz-pop masterpiece Court and Spark (which I need to hear, and which will complete my Joni Mitchell
experience once I do, at least according to my current plans). So it’s not quite fully jazzy poo yet, but it’s a little more sophisticated poo than Ladies
of the Canyon or something like that.
Which basically means nothing’s bad, and everything’s pretty, but
everything’s pretty boring, too. That’s
it. And, like Ladies of March Madness,
the opening few and closing few songs are the most memorable, and the middle
just sort of degenerates into pretty, yet meandering slop that’s nearly
impossible for me to grab onto.
So much of the middle is just this wandering, folk-jazz-lite-on-piano gook that, despite being pretty (because, you
know, Joni has a pretty voice and all), just isn’t exciting. In terms of specific songs, I believe there’s
an instrumental section in the middle of “Let the Wind Carry Me,” but that
could be another song entirely. I just
have no idea. It’s just not a big deal
to me, or at least not as big a deal that fucking
*Checks*
HA! I was right. It is “Let the Wind Carry Me.” Pretty neat instrumental section, too, with woodwinds and stuff. It’d be cooler with a rippin’ Steve Howe flamenco guitar solo, but eh. What can you do?
Anyhoo, like I said, the bookends are where you’ll find the most rewarding (i.e. non-sleep-inducing) tunes. “Cold Blue Steel and Sweet Fire,” especially, has a neat, jazzy groove kept up by some interesting guitar playing and one of, like, TWO truly hummable melodies on the album, the other of which is not on the opener “Banquet,” despite its being probably the best meandering folk-jazz-lite piano slop tune here. Once you get to “You Turn Me on I’m a Radio” (Yup, that’s the title. Joni apparently doesn’t know the meaning of “punctuation”), though, the record picks up after the flaccid middle and becomes one I can say I definitely enjoy, though only enough to grant a 7. It was a hit single, apparently, and I can definitely tell why. It’s like the only song here that would actually feel at home on the radio (it even has fucking “radio” in the title!), and I love whatever that backing vocal thing is when Joni goes like “I’m a wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiild flower” or whatever. It’s most definitely cool-tastic. Then the last minute of “Blonde in the Bleachers” is probably my favorite minute of music on the record, and proves a point I’ve had in my mind for a while but haven’t elucidated until now: the problem with a lot of this stuff is lack of drive or rhythm, so when some studio hack on a drum set breaks in halfway through this tune, it improves like fucking tenfold, because Joni really IS a good songwriter. She just refuses to produce much music that people can do more than meditate to and say “gee golly, that’s purty.” Just a simple little drumbeat adds rhythm and structure that simply WERE NOT THERE before. Whenever she wants to use percussion in other places on the record, she has someone sluggishly beat a pair of bongos, which sounds neat and all but doesn’t really fix the “drive” problem I mentioned. Like “Woman of Heart and Mind.” Stick a discernable rhythm in there, and you’d have yourself a damn great song. Instead, although it’s nice and one of the better songs here, it just meanders. I understand she’s trying to be “jazzy,” as evidenced by the fact that the closer, “Judgment of the Moon and Stars (Ludwig’s Song),” has like a two-minute instrumental break in the middle that contains strange, jazz-tastic woodwind blasts at inappropriate times, as well as some other things I care not to mention (HA! And you’ll never know!), but “jazzy” does not have to mean “boring.”
OK, fine, maybe it does.
Court And Spark (1974)
Rating:
8
Best
Song: “Raised On Robbery”
This is the last Joni Mitchell review, I promise. Unless ofcourse someone is willing to send me her entire catalog for free, in which case maybe there’ll be fifteen more in about two or three years. But, for now, this is the last Joni Mitchell review. Fortunately, this is also my personal favorite Joni album, at least out of what I’ve been able to hear. It takes the meandering, jazzy leanings of For the Roses and actually makes them ENERGETIC and INTERESTING! We’ve got very little of her soft folkiness left, with maybe the mid-tempo “People’s Parties” and the faster “Help Me” providing examples of this type of old-school Joni music that made Blue such an enjoyable record, but then both of them get all “layered” and “sophistimacated” before they’re done, see? Joni throws all these wicked low vocal overdubs into the end of “People’s Parties,” and “Help Me” gets engulfed by jumpy pianos and keyboard and jazzy horns and flutes and saxophones! And more vocal overdubs, only this time they’re all high-pitched and stuff. Although still good, because Joni has a good voice and all. Too bad she’s Canadian.
Anyway, it’s rare that I read a bunch of descriptions of an album from “professional,” “reputable,” “payola” music critics that all basically say the same thing, and then I, a humble unpaid reviewer of the people, completely agree with these hacks! See, this album is seen as the peak of Joni both commercially and artistically, where she’s able to meld her meandering song structures, folky songwriting, and jazz leanings into a elegant, cohesive whole that’s both understated and entertaining as hell (which is a task for her, because while she’s always been “elegant” and “understated” to me, she has not always been “entertaining”), and that’s exactly what it is! It’s not like you’re gonna be able to avoid the lite-jazz meandering piano slop that takes up roughly half of every Joni Mitchell record I’ve ever listened to (four), but this album does a bang-up job of at least making it tolerable, and even really good in large sections. Maybe she makes it somewhat spooky in an interestingly low-key way (the title track), or maybe she adds some string touches and anthemic high notes from her always-lovely voice (“Same Situation”), or maybe she throws a very interesting instrumental section in the middle with clarinets and brass and cellos all converging on a few perfect low notes (“Down to You,” which better have a kick-ass middle instrumental section, because there’s surely no other reason for this thing to be six minutes long), or maybe she does some other stuff too.
The best
parts of this record, though, are when Joni goes for more of that jumpy, upbeat
songwriting I appreciated so much on tunes like “Big Yellow Taxi” and “
OK, so this album fails when Joni jumps too far off the jazz deep end, a fact that frightens me off reviewing too much of what she put out after this. The only out-and-out bad song here is the closer “Twisted,” which is nothing but Joni doing a vocal solo over a boring, lounge jazz walking bass backing track with muted trumpet and all that shit. It has no relation to rock, folk, or pop at all, and while it doesn’t suck, per se, it makes me realize why no one likes jazz (it’s boring and annoying). The only part I enjoy is when a guy that sounds like Cheech Marin does a barely audible scat solo for like three seconds near the end (watch for it!). “Trouble Child” doesn’t have much going for it either, beyond an admittedly nice keyboard tone (one of many on this wonderfully-produced record), and its muted trumpet, near walking bass meanderingness brings it dangerously close to shit-jazz territory as well, but at least it has that keyboard and Joni sings a real vocal melody. I suppose nothing else here is below “good,” but little sections of most of the songs I’ve mentioned might trigger your gag reflex if you don’t like anything that could be called “jazz.” Myself, I try to be open-minded! I’m not, ofcourse, but I try to be, and I conclude that this is a beautifully-produced piece of lite-jazz-pop singer-songwriter prettiness (with a KICK-ASS FUNKY ROCK AND ROLL SONG!!) that I heartily endorse and give an 8 higher than the one Blue got, even though I haven’t listened to Blue in a year and a half and I forget how half of it goes.
Van Morrison:
Astral Weeks (1968)
Rating: 9
Best Song: “Sweet Thing”
This one surprised me. I fully expected to hate it. Or, if not “hate” it, give it something like a 6 or a low 7 and just call it “not bad, but hideously boring and violently overrated.” And, after one listen, sure enough, I figured it was a 6 or something. But then…then, see, I started to get pulled in. And it was Van Morrison’s voice that did it. You can sit and douchebaggedly call this one of the most overrated albums of all time all you want, but you can NOT deny the fact that, when Van really lets loose that vox of his, it defines the word “captivating.” So that was the hook, Van’s voice, that made me give this record a careful, detailed inspection and led its stunning, albeit very, VERY slow and subdued beauty to unravel itself to me. And no, that still doesn’t mean it’s getting a 10. “Beside You” sucks my ass until I no longer have a fully-functioning rectum. It has no structure or coherence, and I would despise the song with every fiber of my being were it not for the fact that it’s not an instrumental, and I can still listen to Van’s voice. So it’s not soul-suckingly awful. Just bad.
As you
might have guessed from the convoluted process I described above, this record
takes some effort to love. At
first, and even more so if you listen at the wrong time (this record needs to
be listened to late at night, alone, and either half-asleep, on headphones, or
both to fully achieve its effect.
Otherwise it’s just really fucking boring), it just doesn’t give you anything,
especially if you appreciate electric guitars, pounding, driving drums and
everything else that goes along with good ol’ rock
and roll music. The main instrumental
basis is an acoustic guitar, sometimes strummed languidly, sometimes plucked
languidly, but never used NOT languidly, on top of which you’ll find a jazz
rhythm section (drummer who doesn’t do much (I’d wager he only even plays on
like 3 songs) and one of those 8-foot-tall string bass things), some clarinet
and flute, string overdubs on a few songs, and horns on one (“The Way Young
Lovers Do,” which is a big ball of jazzy Moondance-preview
fun and sounds nothing like the rest of this album). I think I hear a xylophone or something in
there once or twice, too. That’s it,
though. And the songs, I mean, they
never really do anything. They
just sort of go along, reach a crescendo, and end. No verse-chorus structures or anything. And most of them are SLOOOOOOW. The aforementioned “The Way Young Lovers Do”
books along at a nice pace, and both the title track and my personal favorite
(love the hi-hat and string flourishes!) “Sweet Thing” are quite mid in their
tempo, but the rest will REALLY try your patience if you’re not paying
attention, especially the lengthy and seemingly (at FIRST!) aimless “
If you know what to expect, and you listen to this album in the right situations and at the right times, it won’t be hard to enjoy. Dig Van’s voice before you can get into the rest, and listen to it late at night. It’s not rocket science. Hell, a lot of stuff is easy if you just break it down into a list of things to do. Like running a country correctly. Not that hard. Not everyone in said country is likely to have the same religious beliefs, first of all, so gotta make sure to not let THAT infiltrate government. Also, you should probably stay out of people’s personal lives and not regulate that too much, since, you know, in the end, what people do in their own homes doesn’t really affect anyone else. Plus you can avoid divisive anger and protests if you get it straight from the start you won’t be touching that shit, so that’s always a plus. Oh, you should probably do things to help the lower classes, too, since they make up the bulk of the country. Like social welfare programs and stuff. Those are fun. You can pay for them by taxing the shit out of rich people. They can afford to have three Mercedes instead of four, I think. If one dude’s extra 5% or whatever in tax revenue can help a whole crapload of families not go hungry, even in some convoluted, bureaucratic, indirect way, I don’t think people would object to that. And it’d probably be a good idea to expand civil rights whenever you’re given the chance, too, since I don’t see how anyone could object to equality. It’s a generally well-thought-of concept, I think, right? Yeah. Good thing, that equality. What’s another well-thought-of concept? Hmmm…oh! Peace! Yeah! People like peace. It’s generally preferable to war, I think. So you should probably avoid war at all costs and only use it as an absolute last resort. And, with the world having become smaller and everything being a global economy and all, it’s probably good to have the general support of your allies when you ARE forced to do it. Hell, it’s probably good to have lots of allies in general, just for practical reasons. Like if your country’s fortunes suddenly turn to shit, it’s probably not a good idea to have a lot of the world, you know, hating you violently. This’d probably benefit your citizens, too. Not being hated, I mean. People don’t like being hated. Really not that tough a concept. Like peace. Not a tough concept either. Or equality. Or staying out of someone’s personal life. These are generally not hard ideas to comprehend. If a government didn’t obey any of these tenets…man, I don’t see how they could get ANY popular support!
*Shakes head, looks around in spaced-out manner, breathes deeply, gathers self*
Oh, sorry. I must’ve been off in a parallel dimension where my country wasn’t fucking awful.
Moondance (1970)
Rating: 9
Best Song: “Caravan”
Now, before you rush out to get this as I glowlingly review it, be forewarned that this, for the most part, is one slooww album. Originally I was only gonna give this one an 8 (blasphemous!), because I remember being pretty bored with it sometimes. If you’re all psyched and ready to jump up and down and rock and roll and trash your hotel room and glue all the furniture to the ceiling and stick a small shark up the PUUUUUUUNANI of some young, eager groupie, this probably isn’t the record for you. Ofcourse, if you listen to this album and dislike it for any other reason than “eh, it’s kinda slow,” then YOU, my friend, should take that shark away from the groupie and STICK IT UP YOUR ASS, where it will hopefully TEAR APART YOUR COLON WITH ITS ROWS OF SHARP, BITING TEETH.
To me, at least, if you like, you know, music, this is one of those albums you really shouldn’t be able to dislike. Great, well-written songs, tight, compact arrangements (as opposed to Astral Weeks…or so I’ve heard…I don’t actually have that one…yet…I guess I should…first, I should stop typing all these fucking damn dots…OK, stopping now), and that VOICE. Oooo, I love Van Morrison’s voice! Sort of deep and soulful while remaining young and innocent at the same time (ofcourse, he was 25 when he made this one, so sure he sounds young…FUCK, I did those dots again…OK, I’ll stop). This stuff rules, it’s like pop/folk/R&B, or at least that’s how I’m gonna characterize it. Pop melodies and structures with acoustic/folky guitars and general feel and R&B/jazzy sort of kick-ASS horn sections (e.g. “Caravan”). Whatever, this stuff really is the shit, though some of the songs can drag (e.g. “Crazy Love” or “Brand New Day”) if you ain’t in the right mood. And a few of them rule merciless ASS as well. You’ve heard the title track, I’m guessing? I’m HOPING!!?? Man, that song is the shit. The whole first side is practically perfect, really (“Crazy Love” rules, despite being too damn slow). “And It Stoned Me?” Now, THAT is a great way to open up this baby. Slow and unobtrusive, but RULE, just like “Smile Please” from Stevie Wonder’s Fulfillingness’ First Finale, another similarly RULE yet slooooow record. “Caravan” might just be my favorite damn thing here. I love the double sax blasts it’s got in there. “Turn it up! *doo* *doo* turn it up! *doo* *doo* that’s enough! *doo* *doo* so you know! *doo* *doo* it’s got soul!” Kick-ASS. And how, in “Into The Mystic,” a foghorn blows in the background exactly as he sings the line “and when that foghorn blows…” That is GOOD stuff, my friend.
Now, you may be wondering at this point WHY exactly there is no 10 up there under the album cover. Well, I’ve mentioned the record, sometimes, is a little slow for my tastes, but it’s mainly because the 2nd side doesn’t QUITE measure up to the 1st. It’s also why I never seem to think I like this album as much as I really do, because the last twenty minutes I hear aren’t GREATness like “Moondance” or “Caravan,” they’re pretty darn good-ness like “Come Running” or “Glad Tidings.” Now, make no mistake, these are GOOD songs, but they can’t really hold a candle to side one. They still have shit to offer! “Come Running” is all short and snappy with cool bongo/tabla/whatever drums going on the background. “These Dreams Of You” has a cool sax solo. “Brand New Day” really isn’t any better or worse than “Crazy Love” as the extra-slooow number in the middle of the side, but it’s twice as long, so it drags twice as much. “Everyone” has a fucking COOL harpsichord intro that’s not as cool as the random harpsichord solo in “Siberian Khatru” but still RULES MY TRANSVERSE COLON. And there’s a flute in there…the fuck is that? Sounds cool, though. “Glad Tidings” has some real neat and fun “la la la”’s similar to the ones in “Caravan,” which I didn’t mention because “Caravan” has SO MUCH OTHER COOL STUFF going on, there was no time! Fuck that up the ass, huh?
Aw, hell, I’m sitting here praising
a classic everyone already knew was really frickin’
good, so why the hell should I bother?
Well, don’t you wanna hear my two cents? What…you don’t? Well FUCK YOU, BITCH! OH!
I’m sorry…you do? My bad. Tee-hee! I’m such a kidder! Seriously, this album rules slow
pop/folk/R&B ass. Kick-ass. I figure it’s a superb album to play when
you’re trying to, as those crazy kiddies say, “get laid.” It’s romantic and purty! PLUS, if the chick is a music snob like I am,
you’ll impress her with your excellent musical taste! No Luther Vandross
for you, no sir! You’re a Rico Suave
with good taste! YEEEEEEEEEEE-HAH!
Queen:
A Night At The Opera (1975)
Rating: 9
Best Song: “Bohemian
Rhapsody”
I think it
might be fun to someday do a Queen page.
It’s on my triple-back-burner right now, because the day I listen to Hot
Space all the way through is the day I vote for George W. Bush (or Ralph Nader, since they’re basically the SAME FUCKING THING), but
someday. I mean, I dislike about half
the songs on the double Greatest Hits album I have by these guys (and, like,
80% of the tunes on the second half of it...ick),
so it’s not like I’m jonesing to listen to 20 Queen
albums any time soon. Hell, I even
downloaded this during one of those “Hey, this guy sends me stuff fast, let’s
see what else he has” Kazaa moments (before Kazaa suddenly began to suck my balls this year…oh, Kazaa, how I miss thee…), and it took me like 2 minutes to
get the whole thing. I was excited to
hear it, though, since I’ve yet to find a reviewer or reputable music source
ANYWHERE that doesn’t classify this one as their best outing. See, I like Queen. They’re cool.
There are just better things I could do right now than listen to The
Miracle. Like listen to Zooropa, for instance, and then shoot myself in the
face. But Queen must be covered. For Freddy Mercury has a cool overbite, and,
post-mustache, no one in the history of recorded time has looked gayer, so they
also have that going for them, which is nice.
Anyway, turns out this record’s
great! Not because of anything silly
like consistency or cohesiveness, but because of diversity, some insanely
stupendous highlights, and an overall tone of ridiculous pomp and camp and fun. Even in the stupidest little
nothing tracks, there are like 50 Freddys coming into
each headphone and little multi-tracked Brian May guitar trills and everything,
and even the two tracks I don’t really like (the generic rocker “Sweet Lady”
and the piano wuss track “Love of My Life”) are made
at least interesting by the neat Queen trappings. I don’t like how the not-that-bad riff of
“Sweet Lady” collapses and dies halfway through the song (and then does it
AGAIN!), but the last time this happens its place is taken up by a guitar
orchestra that I endorse wholeheartedly!
And the instrumental parts of “Love of My Life” sometimes sound like a
classical sonata or some crap, and Brian May singlehandedly
leads his cool own guitar orchestra at the end there too. Plus, Freddy Mercury is the fucking MAN, and
the songs here on which he doesn’t sing lead beg one simple question: Why does
my ball-sweat smell so bad?
Aw, I’m kiddin’
ya! They beg
the question of why Freddy wasn’t singing, ofcourse,
but we’ll get to the songs in question in due time, as I’ll now endeavor to go
through the record track-by-track, because I know that’s what everyone’s been
waiting for (*looks around nervously, slowly and sensually peels a banana, eats
it, winks*). The opener “Death on Two
Legs” is the only track that can match the pseudo-closer “Bohemian Rhapsody” (I
know you haven’t heard THAT one before…), and it rocks viciously. Not with like a crazy guitar
riff or some crap, but just with Freddy, who’s fucking ANGRY at the “small fry”
(Tee! Tee-hee!)
he’s been having an apparently unsatisfying relationship with. It’s a forking fantabulous song, and definitely
the most I’ve ever heard Queen “rock” in my experience with them. The tune then segues into the little
one-minute jaunty nothing “Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon,” which rules, before going into drummer Roger Taylor’s “I’m in Love with My Car,” a
hard rocker about exactly what you think it’s about. And not figurative love, either. Real, sweaty, physical love. Ha!
Shame Roger sings it, though, since he sounds like Sammy Hagar or some
douche (let Freddy sing EVERYTHING, morons!), but the song is hi-freaking-larious! Then,
following, we have the perfect keyboard pop of “You’re My Best Friend” and
Brian May’s shockingly high-quality “’39,” which sounds like a “reminiscing
acoustic epic,” whatever that is. Brian
sounds kind of like Paul McCartney, so I’m not gonna
bitch him out like I did Roger, but Freddy is still one of the best and most
distinctive frontmen in rock history, and there’s no
excuse for his not singing every song this band ever put out, dammit.
“Sweet Lady” comes next, putting to
an end the record’s string of Ace-quality hardware and supplies, but the second
half’s not bad, either! I actually LOVE
“Seaside Rendezvous,” which is basically an excuse for Freddy to act really gay
for a few minutes, as is “Good Company,” or at least it would be if Brian May
didn’t sing the damn thing. “Good
Company” actually sounds at times like it could be a goof track on The White Album and other times like some of the circus music on Between the Buttons.
It’s a cool tune! Ofcourse, maybe I’m just predisposed to goofiness, who
knows (I gave Diver Down a fucking 10! What the hell was I thinking???). In any case, I also dig the insanely
overblown “The Prophet’s Song,” mainly for the like 3-minute vocal “LA LA LA LA
LAAAA LAAAA!!!” a cappella part (not the metal
riffing parts…those are just OK).
Finally, what’s left are “Love of My Life,” which I mentioned before,
“Bohemian Rhapsody,” which I think I’m gonna leave be
because EVERYONE IN THE WORLD HAS HEARD IT 5,000,000,000 TIMES, and a neat
guitar-only one-minute cover of “God Save the Queen,” which is nice, and a
fitting coda-type thing to “Bohemian Stairway to a Heavenly Rhapsody.”
I know I said this record wasn’t
cohesive a few paragraphs back there, and I’m still gonna
stand by that, but, despite the fact that goof novelty tracks, piano ballads, prog-metal/a cappella things (TWO OF THEM!), hard rock, and
keyboard pop are all standing together on one record here, it still manages to
make some sense, because everything has the same production aesthetic. Overdubbed Freddys. Overdubbed guitar solo things. Overdubbed EVERYTHING. Even if it didn’t have “Bohemian,” it’d still be one of the most campy, overblown things I’ve
ever heard (outside of like cheesy prog-metal and
stuff like that). But the addition of
that all-time classic just pushes it over the top into ridiculousness. I dig it, and let me just say one more thing:
do NOT take this album seriously. Queen
are not “art-rock.” They took artsy
things like opera and merged them with rock, yes, but they are NOT
“art-rock.” Listen to “Seaside
Rendezvous” and tell me how that’s “art-rock.”
Or “Good Company,” or EVERY FUCKING SONG ON THIS ALBUM besides “The
Prophet’s Song” and maybe
“Bohemian” (though I just think that song’s silly). It’s all one big, elaborate, meticulously
produced joke. So just dig it, man.
The Sex Pistols:
Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s The Sex Pistols (1977)
Rating:
8
Best
Song: “God Save The Queen”
For me to sit here and give the umpteenth lecture on how the Sex Pistols didn’t invent punk, and how the Ramones debut came out way before the Sex Pistols and how musically they have more in common with Aerosmith than Minor Threat etc. etc. etc. would just be stupid. If you’re a self-respecting music fan at all, you realize these things, I hope. I also hope you realize how much this band was, first and foremost, about image, like how they coldly calculated beforehand (or Malcolm McLaren did, anyway) that they should curse and be nasty and sing about what they sang about and generally be destructive assholes in public at all times. For god sakes, they fired a good musician named Glen Matlock, who may or may not have written most of this album (I keep hearing that, but since the songs are credited to the whole band on the All Music Guide I can’t say one way or another) and replaced him with Sid Vicious, who played bass as well as George W. Bush plays prez-i-dent, because he looked really fucking cool while he was doing it. And while I’d like to see these things acknowledged a bit more when another very special VH1 countdown special declares that the Sex Pistols “singlehandedly changed the face of rock and roll,” I think everyone who’s actually heard this album knows they’re true.
However, if taken as solely a social statement, even though the Sex Pistols were really just a classic rock band that didn’t shower very often, saying they “changed the face of music,” while not completely accurate, isn’t completely inaccurate either. There are only two things that separate Never Mind the Bollocks from thousands of other rock and roll albums released up until its coming out: 1) Johnny Rotten and 2) the lyrical matter, and since the lyrics were probably written by Johnny anyway, that leaves him as the only significant difference (and don’t give me Sid Vicious, please. He had as much to do with the physical recording of this record as I did, and I wasn’t born yet). But, in some ways, Johnny’s enough. To say the Sex Pistols invented anything musically is an absolutely ludicrous statement. They’re midtempo classic rock! They have guitar solos and riffs and everything. The Darkness, the other band I’m reviewing along with this one, book it at about the same pace as these guys most of the time, and I would LOVE to see someone in the British press make the claim that they’re “punk” (though I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried). A song or two even has like a phaser effect on the guitars. The fuck is that? No, the Sex Pistols did NOT invent punk (like how I started this review by saying “I won’t give you another lecture about how the Sex Pistols didn’t invent punk,” and then went on to give one? Yeah…), but through the snarling, irrepressible bundle of nihilistic charisma that is Johnny Rotten, they did invent the attitude that has become associated with punk, the sneer. And every band of idiots that dresses up in torn clothing and doesn’t shower and acts like dicks and sneers at everyone while they’re performing is heavily indebted to the Sex Pistols. And even though the whole sneering asshole persona was premeditated by their manager, slap me silly and call me a Republican if it didn’t work.
But all of this talk would be moot
if the album weren’t any good. It’s one
thing to say “the Sex Pistols didn’t invent anything except acting like
assholes, they can’t even write a good song, this album is totally worthless,
and now please let me listen to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s Christmas
album.” If the songs on this album blew,
why would anyone say the silly things they say about this band? It’s like the Velvet Underground. Anything people say about them musically
besides “they wrote good songs when they put their minds to it” is an absolute
crock of shit, but when they really put their minds to it, they wrote really
good songs! And they kind of looked
different and cool and wrote lyrics about different, less warm and cozy stuff,
and so everything else just spiraled from there. Same thing with these guys. You’ve got an album full of good, catchy
songs about subject matter that wasn’t talked about much at the time, presented
by a bunch of guys with a unique, interesting image, and voila! “Saviors of rock and roll.” “Changed the face of music.” “Let me imaginarily fellate Sid
Vicious.” If you hear something like
that, just set your bullshit filter in the “on” position and listen to the
music, because there’s probably some truth to what’s being said deep down
inside the piles. Out of twelve tracks,
the only one that doesn’t strike me as any good is “Seventeen,” which the band
places between the two main singles “God Save the Queen” (FANTASTIC song) and
“Anarchy in the
Oh!
I just invented as much musically as the Sex Pistols did, and it smells
like PLATINUM, BABY!
Pedro
Andino (pedroandino@msn.com) writes:
I am going to get flamed for
this but watching the sex pistols is like watching the surreal life! punk
rockers where better tin the