Welcome back to another edition of “Audio Files,” where blind eyes look into the vapid maw of Jennifer Lopez and see greatness. There’s lots happening this week, so let’s teleport to Elysium, where fields of asphodel await our rumpled back-parts. Chin up, fellow travelers.
Welcome back to the Internet’s premier den of rectitude, “Audio Files.” Last week’s column generated about $15,000 in Google Ad revenue, and this week I’m shooting for $20K. Parachute down the rabbit hole with me once again, won’t you?
Welcome back to another edition of “Audio Files,” the world’s most amorphous music column. Last week, we discussed groupies, white noise, and cosmonautical hoaxes. This week, the staff is amped ‘cuz our backstage passes to the Keith Urban show finally arrived. (Scott, fire up that sweet ride of yours; you, me, ‘n the boys are gonna freak out the squares all night long. Just like a Thin Lizzy song.)
Welcome back to “Audio Files,” my new column here at When Falls the Coliseum. AF runs every Thursday at noon EST. In last week’s inaugural flight, we explored Bulgarian pop, Geddy Lee, and David Allan Coe’s thoughts on prison sex. There’s lots of important things to discuss this week, too, so let’s hunker down.
Welcome to “Audio Files,” my new weekly column here at When Falls the Coliseum. AF is scheduled to run every Thursday at noon, God willing, and I’m fairly certain that it will.
I can’t promise the topics will be useful, relevant, or newsworthy, but I’ll make every effort to smother you with my relentless enthusiasm for all things aural. I should add that the topics won’t be limited to music; all dimensions of sound and noise will be explored.
Here we go…
Guess why the rock band Kings of Leon abandoned their gig in St. Louis after three songs. Bloody mosh pit? Misfiring dragon-shaped fireballs? Dragged off stage for lewd behavior involving honeybees and a flowering dogwood?
Nope. It was pigeons. Pooping pigeons.
There are things in life we are always going to remember. Things like your first day of school, your first kiss, and your first child’s birth. These are moments that will flash in your head from time to time, and that you have a permanent mental picture saved in your memory bank. One such moment like that for me was the first time I heard N.W.A.’s album “Straight Outta Compton”.
On Facebook, Olga Gardner Galvin recently asked the all-important question, “Why do people insist on writing songs about wild horses? What the hell do we know about wild horses anyway? Has anyone here ever seen one?”
She then noted some lyrics:
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away” — The Rolling Stones
“Who’s gonna ride your wild horses?” — U2
“All the wild horses / Tethered with tears in their eyes” — Ray Lamontagne
“Wild horses could not drag me away from you” — Gino Vanelli (whoever he is, he’s an original [expletive])
“Wild horses keep draggin’ me away” — Garth Brooks (at least they succeed here where the Stones’ and Vanelli’s wild horses failed)
Aside from the tired, lazy, copycat songwriting (one song has a bit about wild horses and then in subsequent years everyone has to write about wild horses any time they want to indicate how strong their love is), there are some logical problems here. [Read more →]
To kick things off this week, I want to tell you all about a website that instantly brings me back to my childhood. VirtualNES.com is a site where you can legally and safely play almost any game from the Nintendo Entertainment system. It is hilarious to see how simple the games were then, and how far we have advanced in video game technology. I’m not a “gamer” by any means but love playing old Nintendo games and harking back to my youth of hanging out with my friends playing RBI Baseball and listening to the Beastie Boys ”Licensed To Ill” over and over.
I have and will always love The Lemonheads album It’s A Shame About Ray. Came out in 1992 and yet I still listen to it on an almost weekly basis. It was a simpler time then — Kurt Cobain was still alive, mix tapes were literally cassettes, and the only person I knew with a cellphone was Zach Morris. Every song on the album is so good, and it brings me back to my days of stressing over girls and being almost solely responsible for keeping Oxy Cream’s stock up. Ahh, my teenage years! [Read more →]
The world’s greatest entertainer’s life is in danger. Hanging by a thread in some undisclosed ICU. I’ve noticed that there are no reports of general rioting throughout the United States. I think there is rioting here in Africa but it’s probably unrelated.
Wait. Let me back up. I have often been kidded about my first concert. Air Supply. [Read more →]
Today, kids, we’re going to talk about the pregnant clusterfuck that is the Internet.
It used to be that buying concert tickets was part of a larger experience that began with the release of a new album and ended in the parking lot of a smoke-filled arena.
The experience, for all intents and purposes, began and ended in a parking lot. [Read more →]
As we draw near the end of Holy Week, a week where the two biggest Christ-related news stories involved sex abuse in Europe and Christian militia in America, with breaks devoted to ads for Easter candy and holiday sales events, it’s good to remember the biggest news story of all …
He is risen …
Christ is risen, indeed …
[Read more →]
A month or so back via my connections in the nefarious literary underground I was offered a pre-publication copy of the first Lady Gaga biography, Behind the Fame by Emily Herbert. Not the kind of thing I usually read I must admit, but that’s why I wanted to read it, because there was no reason to read it. Follow me? [Read more →]
I am currently digging Chocolate Cheerios. In the 1980’s, when crack cocaine was tearing apart our nation’s inner cities, Coco Puffs were having a similar effect on the O’Connor household. They became a banned substance after my mom caught my siblings and I doing lines of the stuff you found on the bottom of the cereal bag that we called ”Coco Dust.” After rehab — we were confined to boring, healthy cereals like Kix, Rice Krispies, and Chex. But now I’m an adult (kind of) — I have a mortgage, I pay bills, and I do the shopping. And I can buy Chocalate Cheerios — which are allegedly sort of good for you (at least that’s what I keep telling my girlfriend). They are delicious and I just hope my mom doesn’t catch me relapsing on my Coco Dust addiction. [Read more →]
There is a type of music that holds much appeal to the rural working person, also known as the people of the soil. It is called “country” music, exemplified by the likes of such classic performers as those who appeared on the television program “Hee Haw,” and of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. To be honest, this type of music is not my forte; my tastes tend toward whatever is being played in Starbucks, although I did purchase the Taylor Swift CD after Ken Tucker gave it a positive review on “Fresh Air” with Terry Gross.
The first time I popped that CD into the player, I was surprised at the reaction it received from my poodle bitch. She is a quite refined and at times aloof dog, yet she seemed enchanted by the melodies. She listens to it quite often now. [Read more →]
…if, for example, you’re jogging on the beach and listening to your iPod and a small experimental plane has to make an emergency landing and the pilot can’t see because there’s oil on his windshield and he lands on the beach and you don’t hear the plane coming because you’re jogging on the beach listening to your iPod and the plane runs you over. Looked at another way, we could say that jogging can kill you, too. Or maybe it’s the combination of jogging and listening to an iPod. No, that’s not enough. An emergency landing has to be added to the mix. And a windshield covered in oil. Maybe never mind. Keep up the jogging and the listening to the iPod, since the chance of the above all happening has to be near zero. At least, the chance of it happening again. This might even be almost funny, if it happened in a movie, maybe to a villain in an action spoof of some kind — if it hadn’t happened for real, if Robert Gary Jones hadn’t been killed, if he didn’t have two children, if he weren’t just minding his business, if things that shouldn’t happen didn’t and a person’s life didn’t sometimes end like that.
Nobody has enjoyed a late career renaissance like Johnny Cash. The series of collaborations he made with Slayer producer Rick Rubin reignited critical interest in his work at a time when Cash believed he was destined to become a touring nostalgia act. The first of these, American Recordings is a fantastic album — raw, dark, stark, stripped down to the Man in Black’s voice and primitive guitar playing. Cash had never sounded young, and he’d always been good with death, but I was shocked by the simplicity of the first lines, the frank, naked, blasé expression of brutality: [Read more →]
Bon Jovi is using the occasion of his latest tour to promote volunteerism, and is apparently playing this video at each of his concerts:
I think it’s obvious that anyone who would willingly attend a Bon Jovi concert is in desperate need of direction as to how to spend his free time, but that video is liable to confuse Mr. Jovi’s fans. [Read more →]
Valentine’s Day has recently passed, leaving many to look forward to next year’s bouquet of flowers, heart-splattered teddy bears and cardboard boxes full of calories. Good for you, I’m glad Hallmark/Walmart/the entire advertising industry has your continued attention, affections, and disposable income. I, however, am left to ponder deeper, more meaningful issues. Like Phil Collins. [Read more →]
As I am a foreigner, the first I ever heard about the Super Bowl’s tradition of mid-show entertainment was the now notorious Janet Jackson nipple incident whereby Justin Timberlake ‘accidentally’ unleashed Ms. Jackson’s breast upon millions of unsuspecting Americans. I was living in Moscow at the time and even the Russians were quite obsessed by the role of Ms. Jackson’s mammary glands in a sport none of them played or cared about. [Read more →]
When most 23 year-olds claim to have had a good year, “good year” usually means a college graduation, a blooming engagement or gainful employment that doesn’t involve phrases like “sweater vest” ,”deep fryer”, and “temp agency”. With epic record sales, roof-shattering concerts, and admiration from even Barbra Walters, saying Lady Gaga had a “good year” is like saying Bernie Madoff had a bad one. [Read more →]
10. You’re the surviving half of Milli Vanilli
9. Your comedy album is entirely in Kurdish
8. Your CD just went Tin
7. Your musical style is a cross between Zamfir and Boxcar Willie
6. Your reggae album was recorded using only bagpipes
5. Before you copied and released your album, you forgot to make sure the microphone was on
4. You’re up against Lady Gaga in the category Most Gaga
3. Your CD’s main popularity is as a beer coaster
2. Your band is named The Living Kazoos
1. There isn’t a category called Highest Score on Guitar Hero
Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.
You probably should wait till the kids go to bed or make sure your boss is out at lunch before you play this. But, whatever you do, make sure to play it — and play it with an open mind. Talent comes in mysterious forms and I expect you will ask the same question I asked myself, “How on earth does someone figure out they can do this?” And then answer your own question with “I’d rather not know!”
Here is my hastily put-together “Best Albums of the Decade” list. Some of the selections are favorites that I’ve listened to with OCD-style frequency. Others are fairly new discoveries but are unique and interesting enough to warrant inclusion. The “honorable mention” list consists of recent additions to my playlist that are still in the “getting to know you” stage. They hold high promise.
When I’m not railing against Israel or otherwise decrying imperialism, sometimes I like to write about music on my blog, Dogs Thought. I’ve combined here a two-part post I published there listing, in no particular order, ten albums I liked from this past year. WFTC does not have as much content about current music as current movies or TV, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to throw in my two cents on the various tra-la-las and boom-boom-baps that emerged from stereos, headphones, tin cans, etc. in 2009. Enjoy. [Read more →]
I recall Christmas, 1970, when I was an 18-year-old sailor stationed aboard a swaying aircraft carrier off the coast of North Vietnam.
We young sailors, like our civilian counterparts back home, thought of ourselves as young, hip and cool guys. After all, we were teenagers during the swinging 1960’s, a time noted for drugs, sex and rock music. The 1970’s promised to be cooler still, we believed.
As we were eating our Christmas dinner the 1MC, the ship’s public address system, offered Bing Crosby singing his Christmas classic, White Christmas. A lot of young, hip and cool guys became misty-eyed.
2009 marks the 40th anniversary of many famous things, ranging from the mind-bendingly fatuous (John and Yoko’s bed in) to the truly historic (the moon landings) to the not as good as they used to be (Sesame Street), to the never any good in the first place (Woodstock). But in addition to all of the above, 2009 is also the 40th anniversary of something much less celebrated: a very strange record that only gets stranger with the passing of time, King Crimson’s In the Court of the Crimson King. [Read more →]
Recently, my wife and I attended a Philadelphia Orchestra concert that featured, as the concluding work, the Danish composer Carl Nielsen’s fifth symphony, which is perhaps best-known — even notorious — for its first movement duel between snare drum and orchestra (a note in the score instructs the drummer to improvise “as if at all costs to stop the progress of the orchestra”).
At its premiere in 1922, the symphony was pretty well-received by both critics and the public. But a couple of years later, when performed in Stockholm, about a quarter of the audience is said to have fled the hall. Those who remained in their seats were none too pleased, either. My wife, more than 80 years later, felt their pain. [Read more →]
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