What The Fuck Happened To My CD Collection?: First In A Series

Somehow, like random socks in the laundry, my CD collection has dwindled to very little find-able gems from my past, through moves and giveaways and drunken self-vandalism.

(While I wish it did, this phenomenon doesn't explain or excuse why I bought and downloaded Soul Asylum's Hang Time despite there being No Fucking Way That CD Isn't Physically In This House. That's just fucking lazy.)

Anyway, the CD I miss tonight is Smithereens 11, by yeah, The Smithereens.

Judge me at your peril. And no matter what, there will be more where this came from.

Yours in Belinda Carlisle,
Tim

Andy Capp/Direct Capp: Jason Hurt's Twitter TNT

From Jason Hurt’s Twitter Feed, July 14, 2010 (Offered as is, without commentary or spell check. If you think I’m putting the King’s English in the way of these moving parts, you’re insane.)

So I've been thinking a lot about AC/DC.
And I don't think they would be as sucessful today without Brian Johnson.
Now this isn't an arguement that Brian is superior to Bon Scott.
Of course Bon Scott wins.
The percentage of good to bad records proves this.
So Bon is 5 for 5 on international releases.
5 for six in Australia.
Where Bri is 3 for 10 worldwide.
So Bon wins on quality.
BUT....
I still don't think without Brian Johnson AC/DC would have a wing at Wal Mart.
First the easy part of the argument.
Without Bri, you don't get Back In Black.
Biggest rock record ever. Maybe the most rockin rock record ever.
It coulda be just as good under Bon.
It coulda been 10 times better.
But it wouldn't have been exactly Back In Black.
And I won't even entertain a "Bon Scott wrote Back in Black" arguement. Didn't happen. Fuck off.
And that's the big difference.
Bon looked like a rock and roll singer!
Dick press tight pants.
Costume-y, effeminate top.
Long hair.
Bon was kind of ugly but still a lot more pretty than you.
He wasn't exactly Robert Plant but he was in the same tree.
Bri on the other hand looks like fuckin Popeye!
He looks like Andy Capp!
He makes an effort to look like Andy Capp!
And he may be the only person in rock and roll that losing his hair was a great career move.
Have you seen footage of Bri with hair?
He prances around like Mick Jagger.
He looks like a fuckin idiot.
But as soon as he gets that hat he completely shanges his rock moves.
Which now doesn't contain a lot of movement.
Just a bunch of "I'll kick your ass" stances.
All this adds up to Brian Johnson looking like a guy who can fix your sink.
And that's important.
Bon Scott looked like a guy who would fuck your girlfreind while you're at work.
This is not uncommon among rock singers.
Brian Johnson looks like he would want to fuck your girl while you're at work.
But he can't because he's also at work.
And not in this false everyman sorta way bands like 3 Doors Down and Nickleback have.
Bri isn't tryin to be like everyone else.
Bri is tryin to be like Bon Scott.
And failing.
Because he's not as cool.
And kinda Fugly.
Which is why the average AC/DC fan totally relates!
They wanna fuck your girlfriend while you're at work but can't for the same reasons!
Fugly.
Not cool.
Also at work.
That AC/DC wing at Wal Mart was built on Brian Johnson's ugly mug.

No Posts In 3 Months? Really?

Dialogue: mine, via MSPaint.

Forum/Impetus: The omnibrilliant yet humble R. Stevens of Dieselsweeties fame. And if you're not subscribed/blogrolled/otherwise addicted to that DieselSweeties rush, then I don't know that I can be your friend.

That's Right, I'm Writing About Tanya Tucker.

I hadn't thought twice about Tanya Tucker since I was a child and she was the Leann Rimes of her day in the early 70's. Fast forward to 2008 and the ridiculous availability of just about any song more than two people ever heard, and I'm plunking down a dollar to download a Tanya Tucker song.

I remember being five or six and entranced by her Would You Lay With Me (In A Field of Stone); the vocal, the melody, the arrangement, even the lyrics that I really didn't understand at that point. But, time marches on and so did my musical tastes, and until Amazon.com uncovered a wild hair in my ass a few days ago, it had been easily 25 years since I'd heard the song.

And, holy shit, it's even more jaw-dropping nearly thirty-five years later.

The opening moments, just Tucker's voice and (what I think must be) a triangle (!), sound like she decided to beat the Afghan Whigs to their arrangement for covering it. And those lyrics (by David Allen Coe, if you can believe it) are just fucking deadly:

Would you lay with me in a field of stone?
If my needs were strong, would you lay with me?

Now that I've got some context, historical and otherwise, just the fact this song was released and became a country hit for a 15 year old girl in 1974 renews my faith in America (cue patriotic music), that we as a people can continue to make hits of songs like this despite the social conventions and barriers of the day.

Seriously, check this jam out, even if you can't imagine what it would've sounded like on the radio when you were six.

Steve Foley, R.I.P.

Oh, man. My second thought, after Oh shit, that sucks. was Damn, he was 49?.

Overdosed on prescription drugs. Sad, sad, sad.

Man-Crush 2008

Robert Downey, Jr., to Rolling Stone magazine:

I’m such a work in progress at the moment, it’s crazy, and life wants me on edge, I swear to you. But as long as I don’t forget the past, I’m cool. One must always be mindful, just like you might forget that old girlfriend who tried to slit your throat, but she’s really still hot. If you remember the stitches more than you remember the pussy, you’re going to be just fine.

Damn, I Forgot I Actually Have A Blog For This Shit

Yet again, from a post on a message board, and not originally posted here:

Something Old: Failure's Magnified and Fantastic Planet. Most words fail me regarding the production on these two (FP in particular); every instrument, every note is in its place. You can choose to focus on any one element of a song, or let the wall of it collapse all around you.

Something New: Paul Westerberg's new offering 49:00 (available for 49 American pennies, the mechanics of which are discussed elsewhere on Whitechapel). It's not a polished or organized affair by any stretch, but it is entertaining and never dull. I especially love the layering and abrupt cuts. Sounds like your old FM radio antenna's going bad and you're ping-ponging between stations, especially when the Replacements-esque "covers medley" begins. Thanks, Paul.

Something Borrowed: Mark Lanegan's Here Comes That Weird Chill. Probably the best non-rock voice in rock. Saw him with his Gutter Twins side-project the night before Easter this year and he was goddamned riveting. I've seen him live a few times, but this was different. Still as a statue all night, but projected... life, I guess.

Something Blue: Superdrag- Wrong Vs. Right Doesn't Matter. It may not be 12-bar structured verses of American Southern drawl and "hellhounds on my trail" (though they are from Tennessee), but if you're spitting out "you're the bastard embalmed in disaster", I'm not going to dispute your blues.

So that's it, Whitechapel. I'm ready to walk down the aisle.