( 11:22 PM )
You’ll Dance to Anything
Can the pathetic state of Popular Music get any worse after last week’s Saturday Night Live debacle starring musical guest Ashlee Simpson? After getting busted lip-synching in the worst way, she had the balls to first blame her band, and now her father/manager is blaming Ashlee’s acid reflux problem instead. Acid reflux problem? Are you fucking kidding me? 19-year olds have acid reflux? Apparently she “had to use” a sonically enhanced vocal track, because if she actually sang, it would hurt her throat.
What bullshit. Can’t sing? Don’t play. I can think of dozens of deserving bands that have never been on SNL and can actually sing and play instruments. It’s a real shame that a program rich with music history would allow crappy karaoke to pass as entertainment. Did anyone catch Hillary Duff’s fake performance at the World Music Awards a few weeks ago? Mind numbingly awful. Err, I mean she’s the next Elvis I tell you!
A suggestion for all the talentless hacks out there-- please leave music to musicians. This goes for you too Paris Hilton—you know you can’t sing, so why the hell are you recording an album? Even worse though, is that millions of people just don’t care. There’s a generation that's satisfied watching “singers” dance around and mouth along to pre-recorded computerized vocal tracks.
Who’s the bigger joke-- William Hung who obviously can’t sing nor makes any apology about it, or Ashlee Simpson, who’s faking an entire music career and blaming others about her marginal talent.
Band of the Day:
Lip-synching douche bags Milli Vanilli, the music industry’s original faker heads who legitimized it all.
“Girl you know it’s...
“Girl you know it’s...
“Girl you know it’s...
“Girl you know it’s...
“Girl you know it’s...
“Girl you know it’s...
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( 2:47 AM )
King of the Night Time World
This evening I called a good friend, “Jimmy the Washed Up Surfer” to see if he wanted to hang out, listen to some tunes, have a few drinks, and come up with new ideas on how to rule the world. Instead he offered, “A friend of mine is playing in this avant-garde jazz band that’s opening for some other dude at Milestones. You want to go?” “Sure,” I said.
Turns out that his friends’ band canceled and the other band was Trio X: Joe McPhee (tenor sax, trumpet), Dominic Duval, and Jay Rosen. Holy crap, I’ve never felt more foolish walking in late to a show. We heard the last four songs of the set-- these guys kicked some serious fucking ass. Mcphee played this one solo for minutes, just breathing continuously and playing percussive notes over what sounded like vocal samples. Never heard anything like it. The music just flowed through the air. No, I’m not on drugs.
Come to find out that McPhee and his band members have played Rochester many times before, but where the hell was I? Watching The Apprentice? I’m so embarrassed. Still, I was in the presence of musical greatness tonight and it was spiritually refreshing.
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( 7:06 PM )
I found this Skechers advertisement on page 25 of the new men's magazine called Giant (Oct/Nov 2004). It's without a doubt the gayest print ad ever published. The scan is a bit blurry (click on it for a larger view), but here we see a dipshit leaping off the page wearing a black Fruit of the Loom wifebeater and a pair of Sears Plain Pocket jeans. I'm guessing his mom probably glued the leather stripes on the legs.
He's surrounded by several adventurous action scenes wearing his rockin' Skechers.
But take a close look at the ridiculous nonsense going on in the ad. In the upper right corner Karate Boy scales a moon crater with a spider android, and two hot Army S&M chicks flank a Hefner-esque Dr. Evil. Other scenes depict Karate Boy kicking rebel ass, roughhousing with a whip wielding Coffey character, and later he's seduced into a four-way with a genie, the whip chick and a Lucy Liu clone. I still haven't figured out why he's standing on a craps table flinging nunchuks and wearing a gas mask.
Lastly the slogan "We put the S in Action!" makes about as much sense as the ad does. Who the hell is Skechers' target audience here? Maxim readers? Total retards? Next year's freshmen class of guys at Wells College?
Song of the Day:
"Secret Loser" Ozzy Osbourne 1986 
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( 11:56 PM )
..too bad it won't be tonight...
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( 11:50 PM )
Bear with me--I'll get this bloggerbot thing figured out eventually...
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( 11:34 PM )
What Me Worry?
Ugh, thank god the debates are over. Bush again looked like a seething used car salesman selling a jalopy, while other times he came across as an evangelistic Alfred E. Neuman. Recently I came across these stickers in a MAD Super Special from 1980. Weird huh?
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