American Rock = The Blood of the Universe

Before I start, I want to mention that I did not include Pink Floyd in the Brit bands. Pink Floyd is classic, but never one of my loves. Pink Floyd, I forgot about you, but I don’t really care that much. Sorry.

The broad scope of American rock makes it hard for me to pinpoint any one thing, or to focus too long on anything. This is going to be a whambamthankyoumam kind of thing.

First, Elvis. Elvis is the fucking King of Rock and Roll. There is no other king. Chuck Berry is there too, but Chuck Berry is not the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis is the King. Without Elvis, I don’t know what would have happened. We would probably have an Elvis with a different name. Elvis, as a red-blooded American rock student, I salute you.

The 27 Club. The 27 Club is an exclusive club, reserved only for rockers who achieve amazing, superstar status through the exceptional qualities of their polyphonic debris. 27 Club members all died when they were 27, at the height of their fame. Most of the deaths can be linked directly to over-consumption of drugs, or a very closely related factor.

These people did not get rich and internationally famous because of their connections, their pretty face, their money, or any other thing than how badass they were at rocking the fuck out.

There are 5 member of the 27 club. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones and Kurt Kobain. How many Brits are in this infamous list, the sealed stamp of approval of rockstar god status? 1. Uno. Un. One. The ratio of Brits to Americans in this most critical list is 1:4, and that ratio plays itself out all over the place.

Is it wrong to base my decision on a list of musicians that glorifies a fiery death through rock and roll? No. Rock and Roll is a force of nature, a force unto itself, a mythical beast which exerts an enormous influence on the way people perceive and act upon the world. The thing about rock and roll is, it’s not even subliminal. These people are singing songs to us, lyricizing our deepest fears and desires, using everything that they have experienced to create a new experience for us. And we willingly buy (or steal online) these people’s souls, the product of an extraordinary effort of introspection, and then projection. It is a transcendent experience to listen to a live performance of rock; “a more perfect union” can be achieved, which is not all that different from doing the nasty.

Rock and Roll is a form of art, but it is also a form of religion. I, for one, deeply believe in the power of rock and roll, and the feelings and sentiments the music can inspire. Rock and Roll has changed my real-world actions before, it has pushed itself into my life and into the lives of the people around me. I am better for it, too.

When John Lennon said, “The Beatles are bigger than Jesus,” he was fucking right. There were, and still are, more people creating a more personal, intimate, transcendent relationship with their chosen rocker, than there are people creating those same types of relationships with Jesus. If you go to church and daze off, or do whatever, that doesn’t count, and I know it, and Jesus knows it. When you go to a real rock show, and something hits you in the stomach, you choke up, you tear up…you are having a fucking experience that can never be achieved again, ever, by anyone. It was your show, the band is on for you, and if you do it right, you can come away with something that is more than just a light show or magic show. It is a religious experience.

Now that I have established that rock and roll is a religion, I move on. Every religion needs a sacrificial lamb. The Gods of Rock are not a mellow breed. They do not take kindly to negligence. They need blood, and that’s what American rockers are here to provide. American rockers are the soul of Rock and Roll. Rock and Roll was invented here, Rock and Roll grew up here, and Rock and Roll will die here. The blues are from the deep South, via Africa, and I’m not really sure where country western is from. Mix those fuckers up, and you get some rock and roll.

I could go on. I could list band after band of American rockers, and compare them with British rockers, and see who borrowed what from who, and blabla. I’m not going to, though, because it all comes down to the fact that Rock and Roll is an American past-time, and it always will be. The altar of Rock is built on American soil, and stained with American blood.

I think that the icing on the cake is a club I kinda made up…the 28 Club. Right now, Bradley Nowell (sublime) and Shannon Hoon (blind melon) are the only two I have in there. I’m saving a spot open for Pete Doherty this year; he’ll be 29 next March.

For a sum-up, I chose Blind Melon’s song, “Galaxie.” Shannon Hoon died of a cocaine overdose, a roadie found his body in the bus, right before the band’s soundcheck.

Rock and Roll = Savage

For anyone who has shit to say about glorifying the wrong things about rock and roll, or blabla, I say, “Fuck off.” If it wasn’t about dying in the name of rock, then why aren’t there a bunch of badass rockers, making real rock and roll? They are out there, but they are few and far between. I am not lamenting the end of rock, because I believe in it too much to doubt. White Stripes, Strokes, Pete Doherty, here and there we see glimpses of eternal greatness.

There will be more.

America vs. Brits: Who Rocks Harder?

Part 1 of a 2 part series.

The Beatles. Elvis. Jimi Hendrix.  The Doors. The Rolling Stones. Nirvana. The music will never stop. Ever.

One of my favorite quotes, from any song, is from the Libertines, “If you’ve lost your faith and love in music, then the end won’t be long.” People will never lose faith in the music, and rock and roll has been around for about 50 years now, and there are two schools of Rock. Brits and Americans.

Americans will always love British rock…Beatles, Stones, Radiohead, Zeppelin. Americans generally diss on their own kind, in favor of their tea-carrying pansy grandparents. I’m just going to lay it on you, and SCIENTIFICALLY PROVE that American rock and roll rocks harder than British shit does.

I admit, I used to be a Brit-head. At one time, the only bands I ever listened to were British rock bands…Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin, Radiohead, Libertines. It wasn’t out of “being cool” or being indie or any shit like that. I was just really into the Beatles, Zep and Radiohead, which then transferred into Stones, and then later, I found the Libertines, and listened to that shit non-stop. Non-Stop.

Let’s break it down, blow by blow. I am assuming you fucktards have listened to all of these bands, they aren’t that indie.

Brits First

The Beatles– the fucking Beatles. They invented the modern conception of what it means to be a rockstar. The Beatles’ influence on rock music, culture and history is undeniable. Something to note…The Beatles worked so hard on their music, copying American Rock and Roll that was going on at the time. They idolized Roy Orbison, Elvis and Bob Dylan. They were in love with America, and America was in love with the Beatles.

The Rolling Stones– the archetype badass band. Savage, country-western, badass fools.

Led Zeppelin- The Zep is the one of the most legendary bands of all time, with mysterious deaths, Satanism, dubious fish usage. Zep took the Stones’ wildness to another level, and that’s why Zep couldn’t last more than 10 years. They recorded Zep I and Zep II in the same year. It took them one night to record all of Zep I, one of the greatest rock albums of all time. How the fuck can you make a Joan Baez song rock? Zep did it.

That’s all the old people I’m going to get into. Fuck The Who.

Radiohead– Radiohead is arguably the greatest band in our generation, a serious attempt to create art through distortion pedals. Creep, although overplayed and made fun of, is one of the best rock songs ever. Just 4 chords over and over, what a fucking song.

Libertines/ Babyshambles– Pete Doherty is a modern-day savage, in the mold of the old American rock stars. He’s 28 now, which means he missed the CRUCIAL deadline of dying by overdose by the age of 27. Now, if he wants to keep his title of savage, he has to live until he’s 80, like Keith Richards. If he didn’t die yet, he shouldn’t die for a long time. To ignore the Libertines and Babyshambles because of his annoying habit of getting arrested and making headlines with supermodels, you are ignoring a force of nature.

In addition to the major savages, the Brits do carry a very, very solid lineup of lesser savages, who are nevertheless savages who carry the queen’s undies for a flag.

Ozzy- Prince of Darkness

Arctic Monkeys– Relatively Newbs…have you listened to these songs? They are NUTS.

Oasis– old hands in the kingdom of lesser savages. Bitter, gay brother bitch fights have reduced this band to a soap opera who sometimes plays guitar. Weak effort.

The Animals– House of the Rising Sun, anyone?

David Bowie– Transvestite savage, not from this planet I think

Queen– flaming homosexual rockstar. What a fucking badass. Roughty posted “another one bites the dust,” and it was nice.

The Who– suck

Sum-up for the Brits. The best old Brit bands are the ones who are the best at copying the American style (Stones, Beatles, Zep). These are the bands that grew up listening to Elvis, and old-school blues and country, and mashed it all up with a heavy amp, and distortion when necessary.

The new school of Brits, including Radiohead and the Babyshambles, are pushing into their own element. They are not so much copying Americans, as they are creating a whole new thing. The new Brits are really pushing the envelope of “What it means to Rock the Fuck out,” but sometimes, I feel like they get tripped up in their attempts of grandeur. I think Coldplay is a good example of a band that pushed too hard in one direction, and kind of turned into jelly in the stratosphere. Keep it simple, Brits, Keep it simple.

Overextension is a defining trait of the Brits, and one that often leads to their downfall. Think American Colonies, other colonies around the world, Iraq, and Spice Girls.

Rubber Matches, Growing Up, Other Reflections and another Roll Call

the first category tag i clicked was worthless friday, cuz that’s what i’m in.  it’s fantastic.  finally some time to interact with the tech-junkies, alcoholics and weed-fiends who read this link-laden, anti-american, diaperlicious bloghole. 

has anybody noticed that politics are continuing to play a large role in our blog?!  i can’t believe that shit.  if you knew, (and most of you do), the authors, you’d be as surprised as me.  four years in the burg, and we never talked about it.  now it’s all over everything.  i think that comes along with growing older.  things we never cared about before are starting to look more and more important.  we’re all realizing our global citizenship, and i think it’s pretty encouraging.  now all we have to do is change the minds of all the fuckos in general society *(see stoney’s note about the a&f models on the airplane… these are the dipshits to whom i’m referring.) 

on another very different topic, there’s this issue going on in the baseball world.  my boy john smoltz won his 200th career decision last night.  i don’t need to remind any of you who the braves defeated.  i don’t need to tell you that they beat the metropolitans.  further, i don’t need to explain to any of you that this win brough the braves record against the mets to 6 wins and 3 losses on the season.  no, i don’t need to mention any of these things.  why am i talking about it then?  to hurt your sensitive yankee feelings?  no.  to rub salt into your still-smarting wounds from last october?  of course not.  well, i’ll tell you why.  the braves are currently recruiting new fans, and if you all have been converted over the past few days, just let me know, and i’ll be happy to provide a letter of recommendation.  no guarantees, but it’s at least a 50-50 they’ll accept you.  last night’s prodigious victory over the hated mets was a rubber match.  “what is a rubber match?” all of you except the sport-savvy roughty might be asking yourselves.  again, i’ll explain it for you.  in a 3-game series, if each team wins one of the first two games, game three is the rubber match.  in a 7-game series that’s tied at three games each, game seven is the rubber match.  check out this helpful wiki article on the topic.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_match

what’s the point of this discussion? it’s not just to make fun of the sucky mets.  in fact, i want to bring it back to politics.  since i’ve been old enough to think about politics, there have been two presidents.  (during bush the elder’s administration, i didn’t understand anything at all about it.)  these presidents have been billy clinton and george dubya bush — a democrat and a republican.  in 2008, we’ll have the rubber match between these two political powerhouses.  as in sports, this rubber match will play a big role on the way our generation will be viewed.  will our generation be defined by the shitty republicans or the shitty democrats?  lord only knows.  i got a guess, but it’s just that — a guess.  so i won’t even mention it here.  in a baseball rubber match, all we can do is drink beer and root for our own version of the good guys.  last night, my team won, and i was happy.  roughty’s team lost, and i’m sure he drowned on his tears.  in politics, however, we can play the game and get involved.  we can be the shortstop who turns the double play, or we can be the asshole who lets the ball roll right between his legs.  (by the by, what team was he on again?  hahaha.)  either way, in politics, we don’t have to sit on the sidelines.  we can cast our votes and join in the action, right?  here’s the other big difference.  if i make a throwing error, and the winning run scores for the other team, the game is over and i immediately know who won.  if i hit the walk-off homer, it’s conclusive.  i’m the big winner.  with politics, it’s not so cut and dry.  i might cast my vote and be all happy for a couple years after my selected puppet wins.  then, out of nowhere, he blows some country off the map, and my walk-off homer turns into a “you-blew-it” game ending error. that’s why, when this year’s political rubber match comes along, i’ll be drinking beer and watching from the sidelines.  the punchline of this discourse — do yourself a favor and don’t vote.  vote for your favorite amer. idol.  vote for which of the stars dances best.  vote for the best apple pie you ate at the county fair.  don’t vote for the president.  you’ll invariably be sorry!

thus ends the politics of this post.

i’m still going to school.  it still sucks.  i also work at a school.  that, too, is no good.  i am trying to learn about the material required for my degree, but all i keep learning about is that everybody only cares about money.  the only question my peers and superiors ask themselves is, “how can i make the most money off this situation?”  it’s sad to think that this is the world we’re trying to earn membership into.  maybe the solution is to drop out and move to an island and try to grow coconuts for food and decorative brassieres.  my ridiculous boss’s boss’s boss’s boss volunteered me today to take part in some terrible task around the office.  my autonomy is non-existant.  i don’t decide what i do at all.  they tell me what to do, and i do it.  it’s bad for one’s psychology.  you’ve all been there.  i guess the right thing to do is just grin and bear it until retirement… in like 60 years.  one more thing about work, i had to make a presentation yesterday to a room full of suits.  i wore a rainbow colored (ambiguously androgenous) plaid shirt untucked and my oldest, rattiest pants.  i gave a great presentation.  (probably because dank wasn’t there flicking his damned zippo to distract me.)  after this, i got an email from my boss’s boss who told me that i should have dressed nicer.  this is a big old problem in our society.  why in the world do people still judge you based on the clothes you wear?  i’ll tell you.  it’s because they’re terrible idiots who don’t know any better.  and these are the people who i’m scrambling to compete with as a peer…  sad.

well, mr dank nuggets is in, so let the fun begin.  in honor of him, i’m taking this opportunity to post yet another savage roll call.  feast your eyes on the following collection:

most savage cartoon character:  Monterey Jack — he’ll whip your ass and then console you in a lovely aussie accent.

honorable mention:  Nermal — fresh off the boat from abu dhabi

least savage cartoon character:  Rita and Runt — an ill-fated space-filler in an otherwise exceptional show

most savage world leader:  Queen of Jordan — rules with an iron fist and a lovely pair of jumblies

honorable mention:  Stalin — (translation of caption:  respect the moustache.  fear the moustache.  obey the moustache.)

least savage world leader:  Jacques Chirac (someone either just snuck up him, or he was presented with a lovely quiche.)

most savage cereal mascot:  Sonny (cocoa puffs) — this guy has “junkie” written all over his face

honorable mention:  Andy Milonakis (fruity pebbles)

least savage ceareal mascot:  Tony (frosted flakes) — why don’t you find a gayer bandana.  we’re not all convinced you’re a homo yet.

most savage car model of all times:  AMC Eagle (no competition)

honorable mention:  El Camino (the original cross-over vehicle)

least savage car model of all times:  ford tempo (my first car)

most savage blogger:  suityourself (no photo available)

least savage blogger:  you (look in the mirror and recognize your inferiority.)

finally, most savage drugs:  steriods

least savage drugs:  whipits (you’ll freeze your lungs)

High and Tight, Take 69

I was reading an article in Slate about an new line of UPS ads on tv. Apparently, they are cool. Anyway, they had a link to the Wikipedia page to what “high and tight” means (as a haircut).

I present, hopefully the second in many retard haircut pieces.

“High and Tight, Take 69”

Taxes

My boy Ben Franklin said that shit about death and taxes…flava!  I just paid my taxes over the internet, on the due date. They were $358.64, federal income style. I was working it out on Saturday, and I was like “Oh shit” when I got to the end. Almost 400$ that’s almost half of rent. Anyway, I just paid them, and you know what?

Having to pay $360 dollars once a year, so I have the right to do whatever I want and say whatever I want is pretty cool.  Yes, there are limitations to what we can do or say (kind of), and yes I am a wage slave, but guess what? I’m stoned, I’m sitting here at work, and it’s not all that bad. And, I get to vote for who runs my country, even if it is kinda shady, and our current President is being slightly flagrant. It’s still my country, I’m one of the people fucking paying for it. A big salute to all those paying their taxes, and generally representing the American way up in this bitch. Fuck goddamn communism and socialism and whatnot. I go to work everyday, that’s why I am entitled to bitch about it.

Mid-life complacency? I am looking round, like a lopsided barrel, am I getting old? Maybe…

Couple of things I’d like to talk about.

1. We hit the 3000 mark. According to wordpress about 3000 people have clicked on this shit. If we remove all me and roughty’s clicks, and take out other various things, I would estimate that 1000-1500 people have come here.  Take out a few more for re-clicks and other discrepancies, I would guess that just under 1000 different people have actually clicked on the site.

2. The searches that bring you guys here are still classic. Sid Vicious and Talking Heads are currently rolling the show, as usual. Suit and Deddog are up for the CHOP, but I’m having a hard time chopping the site’s main traffic driver: that name-dropping bitch hoe Suit. Some searches of note: topless fly fishing, stoney is a dickhead, why were books burned instead of torn.  For some of these, I feel the need to just offer a quick “Editor’s Answer” because I don’t think our show here got you what you wanted.  Like, we don’t have naked pictures, Yes, I am a dickhead, and we tore the books before we burned them, to let the air get in there a little better.

What else can I say? The next post I put up could possibly be a judo-chop to the jugular. Roughty has toasted two people already, Haganav and Houseparty.  It might be my turn next.

On doing nothing, and what’s behind your face

Here we are again, doing nothing. YOU are reading a blog. I am writing it.

The metaphysical implications of blogging and reading blogs are not boundless, but they are “interesting” to say the least.

What are you thinking about, coming here and clicking on my blog to read about something?  I ask a lot, “Who the fuck are you?” Do I know you? Why are you here?

In some ways, it makes me feel like an ancient mystic on the mountaintop, and you have just arrived after a huge journey, carrying some old manuscript or wanting to learn some serious kung-fu.  Probably, you came here out of reflex, though.  You searched for Sid Vicious somewhere, saw this and came here. Or maybe you are obsessed with the Stoney Crew, and the first thing you do when you get online is to come here.

Who the fuck am I anyway? I’m a jackass with a blog, and too much time on my hands.  I think A LOT when I sit here at work. I just space the fuck out, and do not come back until the world around me forces me to.  Why did I start this blog? Because I was severely bored, and needed a focused project to throw myself into, to avoid going clinically insane.

I realize that this blog is about nothing.  The tagline says, “A tribute to savagery…” but a treatise on capitalism and racist posts are not quite the savageness we had in mind, I think.  I do agree that we are savages, but I do not think that this blog is an appropriate manifestation of that core quality.

You want to see us be savage? Sorry, tickets are sold out, oh wait, the show is over, and guess what? You missed it. Maybe next year.

If you read this, I ask again, “Who the fuck are you, coming to my site and reading my shit???” I mean seriously, this could be the worst blog in the world…seriously.

Let’s see, we have 2 main contributors, me and Roughty. Then we have Suit, deddog and haganav, all of whom have totally stopped posting shit.  So there’s five people here, but only 2 are keeping up.

Which one of us do you know? Are you here because of Sid Vicious? Did you click around this shithole to see if you could find anything worthwhile?

And about the “what’s behind your face” part of the title…what the fuck is behind your face?  I think about that sometimes.