For What It's Worth

The Staple Singers were an amazing band. Led by Roebuck “Pop” Staples, with his children Pervis, Yvonne and Mavis, they were the first family of soul. That’s right, suck it Jackson 5. Most of your albums were written and recorded by studio musicians. Taking into account that The Ramones weren’t brothers (nor did any one of them actually have the surname “Ramone”), one could make a credible case that The Staple Singers were the best family band period.

This musical supremacy is cogently demonstrated by their live cover performance of Buffalo Springfield’s “For What It’s Worth.” It’s an already powerful song (I’ve always loved the line “what a field day for the heat”) lent a greater urgency and edge by the Staple Singers stripped down sound. Pops Staples does more with a single electric guitar and handclaps than most bands can summon with a full instrumental backing.

Despite the pervasive presence of protest and social commentary in their music, The Staple Singers never came across as preachy or heavy handed. Their lyrics, while addressing overarching societal problems, were always really positive and emphasized the necessity of self awareness and individual change in order to effect a larger change. I find that refreshing.

Lux Interior, R.I.P.

Lux Interior died this month. He was the lead singer of The Cramps. He was one of the all time great rock & roll frontmen. He was a legend.

Below is grainy footage from The Cramps now legendary free concert for the patients of the Napa State Mental Hospital in 1978.


I can’t really fathom what compelled the hospital administrators to invite this band of depraved freaks to play at their facility. Maybe they thought The Cramps would fit in. They did seem to make a real connection with their audience. I really like Lux’s intro: “Somebody told me you people are crazy! But I’m not so sure about that! You seem to be alright to me!”

The Cramps were an amazingly innovative band. They are rightly credited as being one of the early architects of psychobilly, a combustible mix of punk and rockabilly. Along with bands like Television and The Ramones, they emerged from the nascent punk scene at CBGB’s in the late 1970’s.

Like The Ramones, they never stopped touring, which created the illusion that they would be around forever.
The Cramps always seemed to be playing somewhere near you whenever Halloween rolled around. And also like The Ramones, throughout the life of the band, they never altered their aesthetic: a synthesis of 50’s and 60’s trash teen culture, early rock & roll, horror B-movies, lurid sexploitation, hot rods, deranged psychedelia and leather bound S&M fetishism. They pursued this with an impressively single-minded intensity, distilling and elevating kitsch Americana into a weird art form. It’s an obviously naïve and unrealistic notion, but I always secretly wondered whether the persona of both bands was the same on and off-stage. They just never seemed to break character.

Despite The Cramps’ eternal fascination with the seedy and low brow, their lyrics were always really smart and witty and involved a sometimes surprisingly expansive range of references: a little Man Ray here, a little Ed Wood there. On a basic level, their music has a really pungent sense of FUN. Without question, The Cramps have the some of the most radiantly awesome and funny song titles of any band in rock & roll history. Here are but a few examples:

“What's Inside a Girl?”
“(Hot Pool Of) Womanneed”
“The Creature From the Black Leather Lagoon”
“I Wanna Get in Your Pants”
“Let's Get Fucked Up”
“Like a Bad Girl Should”
“Bend Over, I'll Drive”
“Dames, Booze, Chains and Boots”
"How Come You Do Me?"
“Eyeball In My Martini
"Journey to the Center of a Girl"

The Cramps had a continuously changing roster of musicians. More than twenty musicians shuffled in and out of the The Cramps lineup since its inception in 1976, the most famous being Kid Congo Powers, who later played percussion with Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, and Sean Yseult, the bassist from White Zombie.

The only permanent members were Lux Interior and Poison Ivy. They were married. For over three decades. They were the sweetest rock & roll couple. And much unlike more conventional bands composed of spouses like Abba, Fleetwod Mac, The Mamas & the Papas or The White Stripes, Lux and Ivy’s musical partnership didn’t seem to diminish their romantic connection. As Henry Rollins warmly observed in his excellent remembrance of Lux in the L.A. Times, “You get the idea that there was something very decent about them, that there was something almost like your dad about how they were. And it seems to me that Lux and Ivy were fairly insular, away from the general roar of things, which makes them interesting to me.”

Here’s the music video for “Bikini Girls With Machine Guns:"



I remember the first time that I saw this NRA friendly music video when I was in junior high (broadcast on “Request Video,” an astonishingly diverse and forward thinking 30-minute afternoon alternative music video program on a shady UHF station beamed out from Los Angeles) and just freaking out. “What the fuck?! They let people make music like this?! Is that guy wearing a vinyl suit with ladies shoes?! Why isn’t everything like this?” They were wild and they were dangerous and they kind of blew my barely pubescent mind.

The Cramps will be missed. Lux Interior was a giant among men. A giant in patent leather pumps.

The Rock-afire Explosion

Robots are creepy. Awesome, but creepy. From Disneyland’s “Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln” to Teddy Ruxpin, there is something deeply unsettling about the automaton’s crude approximation of animal movement and intelligence. This goes doubly for the all animatronic band at Chuck E. Cheese pizza parlors.

I spent an inordinate amount of my childhood staring with grim fascination at Chuck E.’s automated minstrels. My parents probably assumed that I genuinely liked Chuck E. and his robot animal friends, but it was more like gawking at a grisly, blood splattered motorcycle accident; you knew you shouldn’t look, but you just couldn’t turn away.

As I recall, aside from the rat, the band was comprised of a singing chicken, a droopy hound dog and a big fat purple monster thing of indeterminate origin. It was compellingly terrifying. Every time one of the singing robots would move its mouth, turn its heads or even blink, it would make a ridiculously loud whirring, grinding or clacking sound, which merely compounded the sense of alien “otherness.” And the music was awful: limp and hokey adaptations of American rock classics lifted from Elvis Presley and The Beach Boys. But it didn’t really matter. No one came for the music.

During the 1980’s, Chuck E.’s cross-town rival was The Rock-afire Explosion, an arguably superior animatronic band that was a fixture at Showbiz Pizza Place restaurants, a competing franchise that was later bought out and absorbed into the rumbling behemoth of the Chuck E. Cheese corporate empire. For some reason, the robotic technicians hired by Showbiz Pizza were far better at their jobs than those employed by Chuck E. Cheese. As a result, the members of The Rock-afire Explosion had more realistic facial expressions and actually appeared to be playing their instruments in time with the music. It was just a better band. Plus, “Rock-afire Explosion” is a staggeringly cooler name than Chuck E. Cheese’s “Pizza Time Players.” But the music still sucked.

Decades after the break-up of the band, The Rock-afire Explosion has been given a second chance to dazzle and terrify thanks to Chris Thrash, an animatronic hacker of sorts who purchased an old Rock-afire robot set and reprogrammed it to perform contemporary songs. Like Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie.” (They don’t, you know)


Even more stirring is their treatment of The Arcade Fire’s “Neighborhood #1,” which is somehow almost more emotionally devastating than the human performed version:


Or, if you are into over-hyped, neo-psychedelic dance pop, you might enjoy their rendition of MGMT’s “Electric Feel.” “Electric Feel” is a good choice because, you know, robots are electric:


I am simultaneously frightened and impressed.

Here’s a link to a trailer for a new documentary about The Rock-afire Explosion and the humans that love it: Rock-afire Explosion: The Movie

Death Metal Quilt

Have you ever been struck with a brilliant idea only to find out that it has already been executed by someone else? This happens to me with alarming regularity, and it drives me fucking crazy. For example, in 2001 I invented a talking tombstone which would allow the soon to be deceased to record messages which could played for the benefit of grieving relatives via a small speaker system within a tombstone. Like any ineffectual daydreamer, I did nothing to bring this into reality. Several years later, this guy apparently had the same idea. Unlike me, he filed a patent application.

The same thing happened when I recently invented the remote control vibrator. Predictably, it already exists. Plus, I totally came up with the idea for Star Wars when I was like three years old. Suck it, George Lucas.

Yesterday, while stuck at work at my menial office job, horribly hung-over, listening to Dethklok, I began to ponder how immensely wonderful it would be to create a handmade death metal quilt. You know, with patches depicting Satan and skulls and upside down crosses and what not. Comfy. I imagined that it would be the visual equivalent of a face melting guitar solo. I should have known that this idea was just like the others. Not only has someone else already created a metal quilt, they’ve made an entire cottage industry out of it. That’s right, the good people at Quiltsrÿche are more than happy to attend to all of your heavy metal quilting needs. Nice umlaut, by the way.

Although I’m kind of disappointed, these quilts are pretty fucking great. The quilt to the right is pleasing in every way. Note the wee pentagrams littered about. And it’s called “Skullfucked.” How awesome is that? The quilt entitled “Primer” (pictured above) is also really hilarious. It’s an ABC’s of metal. "M" is for "Mullets," "O" is for "Ozzy," "U" is for "Unlaut," "V" is for "Viking" and "W" is for "Wizard." It’s functional and educational.

Still, all in all, getting skunked on a great idea makes me want to crawl under my upside down pentagram duvet cover and drink myself into a whisky coma.

Barack Obama is Magic

Isn’t Barack Obama magic? Not in a metaphorical sense, but in that he can actually perform magic? Like a wizard. Not like David Blaine.

There are quite a few rumors swirling about the internets about the good senator from Illinois. I recently heard a story that’s probably true about a Democratic fundraiser in St. Louis that Barack Obama was attending. The caterers had made an ordering mistake and they ran out of alcohol halfway through the event. People were understandably upset. But Barack Obama was unflappable. He walked straight into the kitchen and turned the water in 30 cases of Fiji bottled water into red wine. No one could figure out what exact varietal it was, but everyone agreed: it was the most delicious wine that they had ever tasted.

I heard another story about an outdoor picnic in a city park put on by Barack Obama’s church. The ladies who were in charge of bringing the food had a flat tire and were delayed. Everyone was hungry and grumpy. A young boy graciously offered to share his meager tuna sandwich with an elderly parishioner. Barack Obama calmly stepped forward and waved his hand over the sandwich. In an instant, everyone in the park was holding their own tuna sandwich. Even people who weren’t in the church group. Like joggers and people who had come to feed the ducks. Some people fed their sandwiches to the ducks. No one could explain what had happened, but everyone agreed: it was the most delicious tuna sandwich that they had ever tasted.

It’s stories like these that make me think that Barack Obama would make a fine president. Just like Scarlett O’Hara, America will never go hungry again.

Ecological One-Upmanship

Thanks to Al Gore’s incessant brow-beating, we all now have to be diligent about reducing our “carbon footprint.” Whatever that is. In this new era of heightened global and political awareness, it's nearly impossible to get laid without evincing some active sympathy for the plight of the environment. Especially those baby polar bears clinging to melting iceberg fragments. Have you seen the photos? Devastating. Baby polar bears are super cute, even though everyone knows that their little hearts are full of murder. Anyway, towards this end, I’ve decided to do my part and buy a kegerator.

For those of you who don’t subscribe to All About Beer Magazine, a kegerator is a small refrigerator which cools and dispenses beer from a keg. It’s clearly the best way to enjoy draft beer from the comfort of one’s home.

Beer is a justifiably popular adult beverage. From Kingston to Kuala Lampur, beer is beloved the world over. Well, maybe not in Qatar. The average U.S. citizen consumes 21.6 gallons of beer per year. That increases to 29 gallons per year if you live in Australia and 41 gallons if you reside in the Czech Republic. That’s a lot of beer. Obviously, much of this beer is stored in bottles and cans which are either thrown away or need to be recycled, a process that requires a substantial expenditure of energy. This increases global carbon emission which, in turn, makes Baby Al Gore cry.

The kegerator provides an elegant solution to this environmental dilemma. Thanks to their sturdy design, kegs can be reused a nearly infinite number of times, requiring only a simple cleaning after each use. If you must continue to drink beer while our Earth is in peril, and I must, confining oneself exclusively to draft beer is the most ecologically sound alternative.

It’s little sacrifices like this that really set one apart in the fiercely competitive game of ecological one-upmanship that all self righteous people must participate in. For instance, when I’m at a party, I will now approach strangers who I see drinking beer from bottles or cans and say, “Oh, you still drink beer from a bottle? Dude, that kind of sucks. Don’t you know how bad that is for the environment?” I will then deliver a short lecture on how their beverage decisions are thoughtless and destructive and then conclude by saying, “So….yeah……you’re welcome.” They might be irritated at first, maybe even violent, but I’m pretty sure that they’ll thank me later. And even though I don’t really understand what carbon is or why it hates our Earth, I can now feel good about myself for helping to save the planet and for being better than other people. Thanks kegerator!

Although our world is getting warmer by the minute, I still expect my beer to be icy cold. You’re welcome, Earth.

You've Been Left Behind

Apparently, the posthumous message delivery industry is getting more competitive by the second. Just when I was starting to get used to the inherent creepiness and inanity of PostExpression.com, here comes You’ve Been Left Behind. At YouveBeenLeftBehind.com, you can leave important messages for your loved ones which will be delivered after you have been taken away by Jesus in the “Rapture.” Their business motto is “Because ‘no one knows the day or hour.’”

This is their mission statement:

"You've Been Left Behind gives you one last opportunity to reach your lost family and friends For Christ. Imagine being in the presence of the Lord and hearing all of heaven rejoice over the salvation of your loved ones. It is our prayer that this site makes it happen."

Huh. I still don’t really get it. Luckily, the website menu has a helpful section simply titled “WHY:”

"Why? We all have friends and family who have failed to receive the Good News of the Gospel. The unsaved will be ‘left behind’ on earth to go through the ‘tribulation period’ after the ‘Rapure.’ [Ed. Note – I too prefer to use air quotes when referring to the ‘Rapture.’] You remember how, for a short time, after (9/11/01) people were open to spiritual things and answers. (We are still singing ‘God Bless America’ at baseballs’ seventh inning stretch.) Imagine how taken back they will by the millions of missing Christians and devastation at the rapture. They will know it was true and that they have blown it. There will be a small window of time where they might be reached for the Kingdom of God. We have made it possible for you to send them a letter of love and a plea to receive Christ one last time. You can also send information based on scripture as to what will happen next. Each fulfilled prophecy will cause your letter and plea to be remembered and a decision to be made. ‘Why’ is one last chance to bring them to Christ and snatch them from the flames!"

Allegedly, the website used to have a section which dealt with the infernal intricacies of post-“Rapture” probate courts:

"You will also be able to give them some help in living out their remaining time. In the encrypted portion of your account you can give them access to your banking, brokerage, hidden valuables, and powers of attorneys' (you won't be needing them any more, and the gift will drive home the message of love). There won't be any bodies, so probate court will take 7 years to clear your assets to your next of Kin. 7 years of course is all the time that will be left. So, basically the Government of the AntiChrist gets your stuff, unless you make it available in another way."

This is a really sensible point. The very same thing happens if you are stranded on an uncharted desert isle for 7 years or more. A court eventually declares you legally dead and out come the vultures to cart away your cherished belongings while you vainly attempt to construct a radio out of coconuts and seaweed. That’s why it’s always best to leave detailed instructions about the disposition of your wealth with a trusted agent or, in this case, a group of anonymous strangers professing to be Christians who run a weird internet business that provides vague promises of "encryption" for your sensitive financial date. You know, in the event of your disappearance, righteous or otherwise. That’s just smart planning.

As great as it all sounds, this business model is clearly not intended for people in my demographic. I’m pretty sure that if the “Rapture” does come, I will be one of the people who have been “left behind.” I believe this for a number of reasons, one of them being that if I were to leave a message for my friends and family on You’veBeenLeftBehind.com, it would probably look something like this: “What’s up now? Guess who loves me more than He loves you? That’s right: JESUS! See you later. Actually, I probably won’t see you later. So long, suckers!” That’s not very Christian.

Being “left behind” is kind of the cosmic equivalent of being picked last for kickball. I imagine that I might feel a little disappointed. Maybe even hurt. That being said, if all of the people who own bumper stickers that say things like “In Case of Rapture, This Car Will Be Unmanned” were to suddenly disappear from the Earth, I would probably be more grateful and relieved than frightened. And then I would steal the cars owned by those people.

Watch: Blondie -"Rapture"

The Best Movie of the Year ("Dubya" is for Wonderful)

I have poor expectation hygiene. About three or four times a year, I pre-select a film which I recklessly decide will be the best film of that year. This is usually based on scant evidence like the look of a trailer or an early press release. I then proceed to tell everyone who will listen about my theory. “Watch out! This is going to be the best fucking movie of 1998! Seriously.” And I am always, always wrong. Until now. This time is going to be different. I can feel it.

At this very moment, Oliver Stone is shooting what will most likely be an unintentionally comic biopic about the 43rd President of the United States, tersely titled W. Josh Brolin, who knows a thing or two about growing up under crushing expectations and the delicate torture of standing in the shadow of a more impressive father (Oh, James Brolin, he’s such a ROCK) has been cast as “The Decider." Principal filming began just last week. They don’t have a Dick Cheney. A tentative release date is set for this October, coinciding with the 2008 Presidential Election. Did I mention that Oliver Stone is directing? What could possibly go wrong?

The Hollywood Reporter recently released an early draft of the screenplay, written by Stanley Weiser (who also wrote Wallstreet), which was initially titled Bush. Here is a partial transcript:

EXT. TEXAS RANGERS STADIUM – ARLINGTON, TEXAS – DAY

GEORGE W. BUSH, early forties, polo shirt, slacks, stand in center field, looking up at the empty stands, waiting for the fans to arrive, the game to begin. There is a look of supreme contentment on his face. This is his stadium, the place in the world where he feels most comfortable.

The ROAR OF THE FANS COMES UP as a DISEMBODIED VOICE intones:

VOICE
And now the 43rd President of the United States, George W. Bush

Slowly, George W. Bush raises his arms, as if to conjure the crowd.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. WHITE HOUSE – OVAL OFFICE – DAY – JAN 2002

ON CHIEF PRESIDENTIAL SPEECH WRITER, boyish 40’s, talking to 2ND SPEECHWRITER.

CHIEF SPEECH WRITER
“Axis of hatred?” I don’t know. Something about
it just…………..misses.

Seated around a table, BUSH and his inner circle: VICE PRESIDENT CHENEY, KARL ROVE, fifties; pudgy, CONDI RICE, her assistant, STEPHAN HADLEY, bespectacled, late 40’s.

ROVE
(pipes up) Well, then what about “Axis of unbearably odious?”

Bush, intent, Scowls at him.

BUSH
Don’t get cute, Turdblossom. (Nickname for Rove)
This is serious.

CHIEF SPEECHWRITER
What about…..”Axis of Evil?”

Bush thinks for a moment.

BUSH
“Axis of Evil.” I like the ring of that. That’s it.

RICE
But Mr. President, how are we going to tie them all together?
It’s not like they’re Germany, Italy and Japan – who were on
the same side.

HADLEY
Yeah, they’re not aligned with each other.

ROVE
Who gives a shit? It plays.

BUSH
They may not be aligned. But they’re threats
to our security. Iran and Iraq is trouble next door
to trouble. And they have to know that this President
is telling them they’ve got a problem. With us.

RICE
Still, I think the Iranian people could take offense in being
lumped together with the Iraqis and North Koreans. After
all, they have a president who is democratically elected.

HADLEY
(nods agreement)
Could send the wrong message to the democracy movement, sir.

BUSH
No, Hads, you don’t get it. Khatami along with the students,
the reformers, they’ll understand. They want Freedom. It’ll give
legitimacy to their struggle against the hardliners, the deadenders,
the Ayatollah Cockamamies. Iran stays in.

Rove opens a bottle of non-alcoholic beer for the President. Cheney finally chimes in.

CHENEY
Anyone can go to Baghdad. Real men go to Tehran.

Bush smirks, clinks beer bottle with Cheney’s coffee mug.

BUSH
Real men.

That……is awesome. Allegedly, there's also a scene where a twentysomething Bush drunkenly crashes his car onto his parents' front lawn and screams at his father, ''Thank you, Mr. Perfect. Mr. War Hero. Mr. Fucking God Almighty!” challenging him to a fight, “Let’s go! Mano a mano! Right now!” This is Shakespearean in scope, people. Do you know who also had a problem with his parents? Hamlet.

As a caveat, this is only a rough draft. These scenes might not even make it into the completed film. Also, the leaked screenplay could be a complete fabrication. I prefer to think that it is not. Did I mention that Oliver Stone is directing? If the above is any indication of the finished product, W is easily going to be the best movie of 2008. Seriously.

Feel free to act these scenes out with your friends or family. I tried to convince my fellow wage slaves at the office to do a reading, but no one was interested. God, I hate those people.

Clear Channel Skies Ahead

Clear Channel Communications pretty much owns every radio station in the United States. They also own most of the live music venues. It’s essentially a monopoly. The U.S. government is supposedly opposed to this type of corporate domination. Still, it’s a good game, although it is kind of weird that a classically popular U.S. board game is based around the idea of effecting a stranglehold on the economy in contravention of federal law.

In the weeks following the terrorist attacks on 9/11, Clear Channel programming executives produced a list of songs deemed too upsetting or controversial for the grieving American public which they released to program directors at their radio stations. Here’s the list:

3 Doors Down - Duck and Run
311 - Down
ACDC - Dirty Deed Done Dirt Cheap
Hells Bells
Highway to Hell
Shoot to Thrill
Shot Down In Flames
T.N.T
The Ad Libs - The Boy From New York City
Alice In Chains - Down In a Hole
Rooster
Sea of Sorrow
Them Bones
Alien Ant Farm - Smooth Criminal
Animals - We Gotta Get Out of This Place
Louis Armstrong - What a Wonderful World
The Bangles - Walk Like an Egyptian
Barenaked Ladies - Falling For the First Time
Fontanella Bass - Rescue Me
Beastie Boys - Sabatoge
Sure Shot
Beatles - Day in the Life
Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
Ticket to Ride
Pat Benetar - Hit Me With Your Best Shot
Love Is A Battlefield
Black Sabbath - Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
War Pigs
Blood, Sweat and Tears - And When I Die
Blue Oyster Cult - Burnin' For Yo
Boston -Smokin
David Bowie & Mick Jagger -Dancing in the Street
Arthur Brown -Fire
Jackson Browne -Doctor My Eyes
Buddy Holly and the Crickets -That'll Be the Day
Bush -The People That We Love
The Chi-Lites - Have You Seen Her
Petula Clark - A Sign of the Times
The Clash - Rock the Casbah
Phil Collins -In the Air Tonight
Sam Cooke - Wonderful World
Creedence Clearwater Revival - Travelin' Band
The Cult - Fire Woman
Bobby Darin - Mack the Knife
Dave Clark Five - Bits and Pieces
Dave Matthews Band - Crash into Me
Skeeter Davis - The End of the World
Neil Diamond - America
Dio - Holy Diver
The Doors - The End
The Drifters - On Broadway
Drowning Pool - Bodies
Bob Dylan - Knockin' on Heaven's Door
Everclear - Santa Monica
Shelley Fabares - Johnny Angel
Filter - Hey Man, Nice Shot
Foo Fighters - Learn to Fly
Fuel - Bad Day
Peter Gabriel - When You're Falling
The Gap Band - You Dropped a Bomb on Me
Godsmack - Bad Religion
Green Day - Brain Stew
Norman Greenbaum - Spirit in the Sky
Guns N' Roses - Knockin' on Heaven's Door
The Happenings - See You in September
The Jimi Hendrix Experience - Hey Joe
Herman's Hermits - Wonderful World
The Hollies - He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother
Jan and Dean - Dead Man's Curve
Billy Joel - Only the Good Die Young
Elton John - Bennie and the Jets
Daniel
Rocket Man
Johnny Maestro & The Brooklyn Bridge - The Worst That Could Happen
Judas Priest - Some Heads Are Gonna Roll
Kansas - Dust in the Wind
Carole King - I Feel the Earth Move
Korn - Falling Away from Me
Lenny Kravitz - Fly Away
Led Zeppelin - Stairway to Heaven
John Lennon - Imagine
Jerry Lee Lewis - Great Balls of Fire
Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff
Local H - Bound for the Floor
Los Bravos - Black Is Black
Lynyrd Skynyrd - Tuesday's Gone
Martha and the Vandellas - Nowhere to Run
Dancing in the Street
MC Hammer - Have You Seen Her
Barry McGuire - Eve of Destruction
Don McLean - American Pie
Megadeth - Dread and the Fugitive Mind
Sweating Bullets
John Mellencamp - Crumbling Down
I'm on Fire
Metallica - Enter Sandman
Fade to Black
Harvester of Sorrow
Seek & Destroy
Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels - Devil with a Blue Dress On
Alanis Morissette - Ironic
Mudvayne - Death Blooms
Ricky Nelson - Travelin' Man
Nena - 99 Luftballons
Nine Inch Nails - Head Like a Hole
Oingo Boingo - Dead Man's Party
Ozzy Osbourne - Suicide Solution
Paper Lace - The Night Chicago Died
John Parr - St. Elmo's Fire
Peter and Gordon - I Go to Pieces
A World Without Love
Peter, Paul and Mary - Blowin' in the Wind
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Tom Petty - Free Fallin'
Pink Floyd - Mother
Run Like Hell
P.O.D. - Boom
Elvis Presley - (Yu're the) Devil in Disguise
The Pretenders - My City Was Gone
Queen - Another One Bites the Dust
Killer Queen
Rage Against the Machine - All songs by Rage Against the Machine
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Aeroplane
Under the Bridge
R.E.M. - It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
The Rolling Stones - Ruby Tuesday
Saliva - Click Click Boom
Santana - Evil Ways
Savage Garden - Crash and Burn
Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water
Frank Sinatra - New York, New York
Slipknot - Left Behind
Wait and Bleed
The Smashing Pumpkins - Bullet With Butterfly Wings
Soundgarden - Black Hole Sun
Blow Up the Outside World
Fell on Black Days
Bruce Springsteen - I'm Goin' Down
I'm on Fire
War
Edwin Starr - War
Steam - Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye
Steve Miller Band - Jet Airliner
Cat Stevens - Morning Has Broken
Peace Train
Stone Temple Pilots - Big Bang Baby
Dead & Bloated
Sugar Ray -Fly
The Surfaris - Wipeout
System of a Down - Chop Suey!
Talking Heads - Burning Down the House
James Taylor - Fire and Rain
Temple of the Dog - Say Hello 2 Heaven
Third Eye Blind - Jumper
Three Degrees - When Will I See You Again
Tool - Intolerance
The Trammps - Disco Inferno
U2 - Sunday Bloody Sunday
Van Halen - Jump
Dancing in the Street
J. Frank Wilson - Last Kiss
Wings - Live and Let Die
The Youngbloods - Get Together
Zager and Evans - In the Year 2525
The Zombies - She's Not There

The programming executives responsible for the list explained that it was created on an informal basis and was intended as a mere suggestion for Clear Channel radio stations and not an actual ban on these songs. Despite prior admissions to the press, Clear Channel later disclaimed the existence of the list.

As these events occurred nearly seven years ago, I do recognize that this is not exactly breaking news. But I just found out about it. So it’s breaking news to me.

The very creation of such a list is an inherently strange exercise, a preemptive corporate analysis of American grief and its relationship to popular music. What was its express purpose? Was it a genuine, albeit paternalistic, expression of concern for the American people in the wake of tragedy? Was it a calculated commercial decision, designed to reduce the incidence of radio listeners becoming offended or overwhelmed with emotion who might then switch off their radios or change the station (although, the latter would hardly matter, as, once again, Clear Channel Communications owns pretty much every radio station in the United States)? Only Clear Channel knows for sure.

The list of songs can be broken down into several different content specific categories: songs about airplanes or flight, songs about fire/explosions, songs about jumping or falling and songs about mortality.

I can sort of understand the logic behind the temporary suspension of songs about airplanes. Steve Miller Band’s reference to that "big ole jet airliner” might not evoke the most pleasant images in the minds of listeners, given the timing. Same for “Leaving On a Jet Plane,” although I personally would have included John Denver’s version rather than the one by Peter, Paul and Mary, because he actually left on a plane and never came back.

This type of reasoning might explain the somewhat puzzling inclusion of Ricky Nelson’s “Traveling Man,” a fairly innocuous song about a philandering commuter with a lady in every port. Is Ricky Nelson on this list because he also died in a plane crash? If so, this would require a great deal of explication and prior knowledge on the part of the listener. Obviously, someone at Clear Channel thought that the following scenario was likely to occur: “Oh man, I love this song. Turn. It. Up! Ricky Nelson: classic. Remember when he was on Ozzie & Harriett? He was really good in that, even though he was just a teenager. Humph. Whatever happened to him? Oh yeah, he died in a plane crash, quite young if I remember correctly. Sad. Who else died in a plane crash? Aww crap! September 11. Now I’m just depressed. Tammy, turn off the radio!”

If you had never heard Elton John’s “Benny & the Jets,” you might be tempted to include it in a list of this sort. But aren’t the “Jets” mentioned in the song some sort of colorful street gang, like the “Sharks” from West Side Story, and not a reference to actual planes? Wait. Strike that. I think it’s about a band called “Benny & the Jets.” Anyway, the point is that it’s not about real jet airplanes. Was this list compiled by a computer?

I can also understand how songs about explosions or fiery conflagrations might not be that appropriate right after the destruction of the World Trade Center. Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m On Fire,” Talking Heads’ “Burning Down the House” and James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” are all fair enough. The Gap Band’s “You Dropped a Bomb On Me?” Okay. ACDC’s “TNT” and "Shot Down in Flames?" Fine. “Disco Inferno”? Now you’re starting to lose me. That song is about burning up the dancefloor…..with red-hot dance moves. And “St. Elmo’s Fire?" All that does is make me think of Rob Lowe playing the saxophone. While wearing sunglasses. At night. Indoors. Everyone knows that’s just soothing.

I can get behind the inclusion of Tom Petty’s “Free Falling.” That does oddly conjure an image of people jumping off of a giant skyscraper. But not so for Van Halen’s “Jump.” For some reason, this makes me think of chesty aerobics instructors.

The songs about mortality are even more tenuous. Oingo Boingo’s “Dead Man’s Party” is obviously about death, but they make it seem fun. Who doesn’t like a good party? I bet they would have xylophones made out skeletons at that party. “Knocking On Heaven’s Door”, both the Bob Dylan and Guns & Roses versions (Don’t even bother trying to answer that age old question of which one is better. Who can really say?), is about a cowboy sheriff or something, and really doesn’t make me think of terrorism in the modern age. I believe Jan and Dean’s “Dead Man’s Curve” is about the perils of drag racing. In the early 1960’s. This would totally remind me of 9/11, if the terrorists had been angry “greasers” bent on destroying a plane full of “soshes.” Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day” is about dying on the inside after your girlfriend dumps you. Much like with Ricky Nelson, I suspect this was included because Buddy Holly died in a place crash.

Songs with overt political messages are also predictably verboten. The funniest part of the entire list has to be the line “Rage Against the Machine – All songs by Rage Against the Machine.” Sorry Black Sabbath’s “War Pigs.” This is no time to ponder the futility of war and the crass profiteering which follows. That goes for pinko peaceniks like you too, John Lennon’s “Imagine.” Cat Stevens’ “Peace Train” and “Morning Has Broken?” No way. That guy became a Muslim. Lois Armstrong? You and your “Wonderful World” can go fuck yourselves.

Apparently, Clear Channel felt that any mention of the Middle East was too provocative for the American listener, as evidenced by the appearance of the always controversial “Walk Like an Egyptian.” The Clash’s “Rock the Casbah" also made the list, which is weird, considering that the song is kind of all about subverting Islamic extremism throught the power of rock music. I think that “Rock the Casbah” could be really inspiring in an international crisis of this type. Plus, it’s allegedly very popular with members of the U.S. military and was the first song played by Armed Forces Radio at the start of the first Gulf War.

The inclusion of some of the songs on the list is entirely mystifying. For instance, Nena’s “99 Luftballons” or “Ruby Tuesday” by The Rolling Stones or The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge.” As far as I can tell, the only thing that theses songs have in common is that they are all tinged with melancholy. Most of the great pop songs of the last century contain an element of melancholy, because great pop songs are mostly about love and loss. This doesn’t leave much for the grieving American public to listen to.

And why, you ask, would Clear Channel want to suppress Alien Ant Farm’s “Smooth Criminal,” but not the original by Michael Jackson? Because Alien Ant Farm’s cover version is really, really sucky. That’s just a good programming decision. The American people had suffered enough.

Technostalgic Dysphoria

If you had any affection for the Atari Corporation in the 1980’s, you might find this link of interest:

Mighty God King: Fun From Yesterday!

This totally takes me back. I spent countless hours playing “It’s Fucking Checkers.” What a great game.

Just admit it. The Atari box art was really amazing. The ‘80’s future was so bright and colorful and wonderfully technologic. When I was 8 years old, I kind of assumed that by the year 2000, I would be the supreme commander of some sort of mobile missile defense unit. Obviously, this did not come to fruition. What went wrong? As a result, I now suffer from a fictional psychiatric disorder called “technostalgic dysphoria,” a severe dissatisfaction with the present based on an unreasonable expectation of the future devised in a bygone era. If you like the film Barbarella, and you should, you most likely know what I mean. Thanks for nothing childhood dream-makers.

Dead Letter File

The internet is so great. Why, you’re using it this very second. From adopting a kitten to arranging anonymous sex with a stranger in your local area, there’s nothing you can’t do on the internet. And now you can use the internet to send messages to your friends and relatives from beyond the grave.

That’s right, Postexpression.com enables you to “create and store multimedia messages that will be sent by email to friends and family after you die.” I’m intrigued, please tell me more. “Post Expression allows you to communicate with people after you’ve died. It gives you the opportunity to communicate final words of encouragement, confession and love; or private information that may get lost if you pass away.” I hope that these people are better at delivering dead people’s messages than they are at using semicolons.

I can’t decide whether this is the stupidest, most creepy idea in the world; or just straight genius. The service only costs 19 euros. That’s a small price to pay for precious, precious closure.

Post Expression does offer a free, 30-day trial. However, this is of no conceiveable value unless you die. Within 30 days. Also, in the event that you do die, they won't deliver your free trial messages until after you've paid them 19 euros. Best not go with the free trial then.

I wish that their website included helpful sample messages. This is what I imagine a last letter to a lover might look like:

“Hey Baby, I love you so much. I’m dead now, but our love will last for eternity. And Baby, I know that it’s gonna be hard, but I’d really like for you to try and stay celibate until you die too. In honor of our love. If you had been the one to go, I would totally do it for you. The thought of you getting it on with another man is too much for me to bear. You do love me, right? I’ll be watchin’ you from Heaven. XOXO”

Or maybe a final message to your favorite texting buddy:

“OMFG! i’m dead. this blows. WTF? :( i guess I won’t be ROFL ever again. have a good rest of ur life. G2G. Cya L8R.”

Or perhaps the ultimate “fuck you” from the great beyond:

“Jimmy, I know that you’re my brother and all, but I always hated you. You are such a complete dickhead. Remember when I took Jake Henderson home to meet Mom and Dad and you told him that I was taking special medication for pubic lice? You ruined everything. Why? I liked him so much. He was perfect. And remember when you borrowed $150 to get a new cd player for your Trans Am and promised to pay me back in a month? That was FIVE years ago! I guess I’ll never collect on that now. Seriously, go fuck yourself.”

And it totally has practical application. For instance:

“Son, if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. I’m so proud of you. I can’t imagine having a better son. Anyway, there’s one last thing that I need you to do for me. There’s a rather substantial cache of German porn hidden in my tool shed. It is IMPERATIVE that you dispose of this before your mother finds it. She’d never understand. Third drawer from the bottom. You’re the best. Love you, Dad”

As you can see, this has limitless potential. OMFG! G2G. I could die at any moment. I have sooooo many messages to write.

The Curious Case of Horst Rippert

“If you’re in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it’ll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a grenade at them.” – Jack Handey

At this point, it is a near universal truth that war is primitive, inane and largely unnecessary. Especially if someone made you read Kurt Vonnegut in high school. Man, that guy was really successful in foisting devious “don’t kill other human beings” propaganda on the young and impressionable.

A sterling example of the cosmic irony of war is the curious case of Horst Rippert. Rippert was a Luftwaffe pilot in the Second World War. One of his favorite writers was Antoine de Saint-Exupery, author of The Little Prince, whose central character was also an aviator. On July 31, 1944, he shot down a P-38 airplane with French markings over the Mediterranean.

Antoine de Saint-Exupery was an Allied pilot in the Second World War. His favorite authors included Paul Valery, Jules Verne and the German Romanticists. On July 31, 1944, he left on an assignment in a P-38 to collect aerial intelligence on German troop movement in the Rhone Valley and never returned. Nearly six decades later, his plane was found at the bottom of the Mediterranean.

Upon hearing of Saint-Exupery’s disappearance, Rippert was convinced that he had killed his hero. He told no one. Rippert, now 88 years old, finally confessed this possibility after being contacted by Luc Vanrell, a French marine archaeologist who discovered and substantiated the identity of Saint-Exupery’s lost plane. Rippert stresses that if he had been aware of the identity of his victim, he wouldn’t have pulled the trigger. “If I had known it was Saint-Exupery, I would never have shot him down,” explained Rippert. “I loved his books. He was probably my favorite author at the time. I am shocked and sorry. Who knows what other great books he would have gone on to write?”

“I didn’t target a man who I knew. I shot at an enemy plane that went down. That’s all.” Praising Saint-Exupery, Rippert said, “He knew admirably how to describe the sky, the thoughts and feelings of pilots.” He then added, “His work inspired many of us to take up our vocation.”

That’s kind of ironic. You know what’s not kind of ironic? The song “Ironic” by Alanis Morisette. There isn’t a solid example of irony in that entire song. For instance: “A traffic jam when you’re already late/ A no smoking sign on your cigarette break/ It’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife/ It’s meeting the man of my dreams/ And then meeting his beautiful wife/ And isn’t it ironic….don’t you think?”

No. I fucking don't. And it's not. Those are just frustrating situations where things aren’t going your way. You know what is ironic, Alanis Morisette? Writing a bunch of amazing books about aviation that inspire people to become pilots, one of whom becomes a really skilled fighter pilot who later mistakenly kills you in a dog fight. That’s fucking ironic. Oh wait. is the irony supposed to be that it’s a song called “Ironic” in which there is no actual irony? I can’t take this anymore. Stop messing with my head, Canada!

Anyway, in light of this sixty year old aeronautic tragedy, I think that I might have a pragmatic solution to the whole “war” problem. If everyone in world would just write a great book that was read and adored by everyone else in the world, no one would be able to intentionally kill anyone out of sheer literary admiration. Done and done. Get typing people!