As someone who listens to nothing but the greatest music ever, thought I’d share a few songs that changed my life in regards to music. These are special to me, so they are of course better than whatever you are currently listening to.
The Beatles - You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away
Ozzy Osbourne - I Just Want You
My coworkers have this fascination with telling me every detail of their lives, though anyone who has met me for more than fifteen seconds understands that I do not give a fuck about anyone or anything. Still, as I sit there sipping my coffee with a grimace on my face reminiscent of a fresh rape victim, one of these jabbering idiots will hit with me a Pearl Harbor-type attack of little anecdotes about their dog shitting on the carpet or how they barely missed a green light. Like I give a shit.
Then today, one of them, let’s call her Medusa (she’s hanus) casually dropped a story on me that would have only been appropriate if we were in 1950s Mississippi. In short, she said this:
The other night I was taking out the trash, and I saw these two black guys coming around the corner, so I ran straight into my house and locked all the doors. I had to close all the blinds, because my daughter keeps leaving them open. I tell her to keep the blinds closed for this reason. Then last night, I went out to get something out of my car, and I saw THE SAME TWO BLACK GUYS WALKING DOWN THE STREET!!!!” It’s stupid because our deadbolt won’t work, so they can easily kick the door down. And we don’t even have a gun! Just a hunting knife! We just bought a new TV, so I think I’m just going to keep it at my brother’s house until they finally break in, because you know they gonna. What’s this world coming to?
In case you’re asking, I was not wearing a white hood at the time of this story-telling, so there is absolutely no reason why this woman should have felt that is was cool to say this to me, or to anyone who hasn’t already proclaimed their hate of Darkie to her.
I fucking hate people, and I really, really fucking hate my job.
THIS IS AMAZING SHIT
(Source: orbislame)
Since the Death Pool lasted all but three weeks, we’ve decided to do some random contests throughout the year, the first of which will be the SOTW Super Bowl Contest. Here are the rules:
Each contestant must fill out the below questionnaire. Each answer is worth a certain amount of points according to degree of difficulty. The contestant with the most points at the end of the game wins.
1.) Who will score the first touchdown of the game (example: if Tom Brady throws to Wes Welker, the winning player would be Welker, not Brady)? [5 points]
2.) Who will throw a touchdown first? [1 point]
3.) Which player will have the most total rushing yards? [2 points]
4.) Which player will have the most total receiving yards? [2 points]
5.) Which team will have fewer turnovers? [1 point]
6.) Which team will record the most sacks? [1 point]
7.) How many total penalties will be accepted? [2 points]
8.) How many total field goals will be made? [2 points]
9.) Which player will record the most tackles? [3 points]
10.) Which team will win? [1 point]
Tiebreaker: Total amount of points scored.
Email your answers to sotwsuperbowl@gmail.com, with “Super Bowl” in the subject line. All entries must be sent before kickoff. Any questions? Ask me on Twitter (@jfishSOTW) or just keep them to yourself because this is really simple and I don’t need your bitching about technicalities or whatnot.
Remember, this is FREE and the winner will receive a prize. Good luck.
EDIT: PLEASE INCLUDE YOUR TWITTER HANDLE.
You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna get myself a 1967 Cadillac Eldorado convertible, hot pink, with whale skin hubcaps and all leather cow interior and big brown baby seal eyes for headlights. Yeah! And I’m gonna drive around in that baby at 115 miles an hour, getting 1 mile per gallon, sucking down quarter pounder cheeseburgers from McDonald’s in the old-fashioned non-biodegradable Styrofoam containers! And when I’m done suckin’ down those grease ball burgers I’m gonna wipe my mouth on the American flag and then toss the Styrofoam containers right out the side, and there ain’t a God-damned thing anybody can do about it. You know why? Because we got the bombs, that’s why!
Two words—nuclear fucking weapons, OK? Russia, Germany, Romania - they can have all the democracy they want. They can have a democracy cakewalk right through the middle of Tiananmen Square and it won’t make a lick of difference, because we’ve got the bombs, OK? John Wayne’s not dead - he’s frozen! And when we find a cure for cancer, we’re gonna thaw out the Duke and he’s gonna be pretty pissed off. You know why? You ever taken a cold shower? Well, multiply that by 15 million times. That’s how pissed off the Duke’s gonna be.
I’m gonna get the Duke and John Cassavetes and Lee Marvin and Sam Peckinpah and a case of whiskey and drive down to Texas.
You know what? I really am an asshole.
I am uncool. I am 25 years old and know nothing of hip-hop, modern rock or what television shows my peers watch. Some would tell me that this actually makes me cool; that my retro-blend of pop culture awareness that trailed off around the same time as Kurt Cobain’s pulse makes me some kind of music historian, like a character in High Fidelity.
That’s all bullshit, really. The truth of the matter is I don’t like cool things because I’m not a cool person. I stopped paying attention after the Grunge Era because that ended about the same time I was old enough to understand that I will never be hip. I disconnected. But I’ve still been observing from the rafters, like the two old critics on The Muppets. Have I been in the trenches? No. I have still kept a keen eye on this war.
Leading up to the 2011 Video Music Awards, I knew little of the popular acts that would be hoisting the Moon Man. My thought on commenting the VMAs was that I could give a play-by-play of an industry that has long been gone with wind, and a network (MTV) that has abandoned it’s entire premise in the name of money and ratings. But I don’t really care about that anymore. I mean, what’s the point of railing against MTV? You are either of my ilk (grew up on music videos) or of the channel’s current demographic (grew up on reality television). This awards show wasn’t about me. It was about them.
I used to think MTV was a prominent cause in the destruction of the music industry, or at least filled out half the puzzle (the internet completing the other half), but that probably is short-sighted. I have Lady Gaga to thank for this revelation.
Other than Beyonce’s fetus, Gaga was the talk of the VMAs. Why? Because she dressed up as Ponyboy and acted the part throughout the entire production. That was it. And people ate it up then chewed it out as some kind of creative, anti-pop statement that has been the underlying purpose of her entire career. Taken at face value, this is the same thing that David Bowie, Madonna and Marilyn Manson did to reach the top of the charts.
The only difference is that Bowie, Madonna and Manson did it first. That suddenly matters.
Pop music has no space in which to be creative anymore. I find it to be truth that Gaga is a marginally talented singer/performer, while the artists I mentioned above made stellar, classic songs. However, with the exception of Madonna, those were rock acts, not pop; their look didn’t overshadow the music. For a while, anyways. Both Bowie and Manson’s fanbase experienced cold-weather shrinkage once their image became bigger than the message.
That leaves Madonna, the most-referenced artist in regards to Lady Gaga. Here’s the difference: while Madonna’s image was crucial to her net pop worth, it was combined with the resonance her songs held. A means to an end. Her “Like A Virgin” stunt at the inaugural VMAs was to get you to listen. Say what you will about pop music, but Madonna has a catalog of songs that not only matter culturally, but as stand-alone pieces of music themselves. Her image made good songs relevant. Gaga wants to reverse this path.
Gaga’s plan is thus: to make her usage of her own image the backbone of her creativity. It’s not a tool for her. It’s all she’s got. Her Ralph Macchio impression is her inherit talent, which is being strange and an out-of-the-box thinker. Which is fine, except it has no musical validation whatsoever. Gaga’s music, as a whole, is extremely bland and carries with it no original message or sound or way of being. Her, as a person, is the point of interest. She is an actress. A face on our televisions. No musician.
The thing is: it’s not her fault. This is the natural evolution of things. Pop music went from good tunes, to an image replication based off of how well that music sold. The Bowies and Madonnas of the world took this lesson and used the image against itself to sell records. But now it’s like a game of “Telephone”; Gaga’s lesson got lost in translation and now she actually thinks the image is the selling point. She has spent MUCH more time honing her wardrobe than her singing skills. And the kicker? She believes she’s doing the exact same thing as Madonna.
But Madonna’s act wouldn’t work today, because Madonna already did it. MTV couldn’t have gone on showing music videos 24/7. It would be a dead network. The best vision MTV had was realizing the appeal of Real World. They went that route - again, out of total necessity - and in turn not only saved their brand but made Viacom viable for the next few decades. And when Music Television turns away from music and leans towards a vain, mainstream mirror? Well, those kids, like young Lady Gaga, are going to grow up drinking that message like liquid gospel.
Lady Gaga isn’t horrible or amazing. She’s just naive. So are the people who think she’s horrible or amazing. She’s a product. Like Coca-Cola. As far as music is concerned, she’s Coca-Cola Zero. She’s a nothing.
The sad part? She will never, ever get it. And neither will this generation at all. They think this is art. This is finger painting rock and roll.
The Unassociated Press is designed to give a new perspective on pop culture. Our collection of writers will go out of their way to experience music that they never gave a chance, or perhaps actively loathe. In the 21st century, it is too easy to simply pick and choose the types of music you know you will enjoy. Gone are the days of watching videos on MTV from all genres, or buying a record just because we thought the cover art was cool. The UAP wants to bring that adventurous spirit back.
Our writers come from all walks of life, with varied degrees of writing experience. If you are interested in contributing or perhaps becoming a staff writer yourself, email Jay at jfish@theunassociatedpress.com
You’d think Hetfield would be in control, but…..
Thanks to Danny Parkins, we all have a reason to watch Kyle Davies pitch. Here are his rules:
1 drink for a single, 2 drinks for a double, etc.
Home run: chug until players crosses home plate
Grand Slam: Four Loko
HR to sub-.240 hitter: shotgun
Hit batter: hit a friend
1-2-3 inning: drink water
Records an out: eat
Davies leaves the game: finish your drink
Announcers compliment Davies: take a shot
