Category: Music for the Masses

Welcome back again, my friends, to a brand-spanking, new and improved edition of Music for the Masses. Now, with 10% more girth!! So”¦ did you enjoy the trip down memory lane last week? I sure did. You see, since I didn’t have to “waste” actual time writing a new column, I was able to coach my buddy Alec Baldwin on how to better communicate with his daughter. According to him, she’s a real handful. So you know what I says to him? Why I says “Look Alec”¦ don’t take any more of her bullshit. Teach her who’s the boss. Teach her who her daddy is. You know what they say, Alec”¦ spare the rod, spoil the child!” Boy, I can’t wait to catch up with him later this week and find out if he took my advice and how that conversation went! I’m guessing well!! If not, though, I’ll have to tell him how he can remind her of his love and keep her in line with wire hangers”¦ or a rabbit-punch to the kidneys.

Don’t make daddy angry”¦ you wouldn’t like daddy when he’s angry.

But hey, enough about all that folks for we have a full stack of reviews to get to today. Up first, we check in with the brilliant new release from one of my all-time favorite bands, Rush. Afterwards, Double A checks in with the latest from Madlib and a freshman Liberal Arts major proffers an opinion on the latest from Good Charlotte.

Sound like fun? Well, you ungrateful little pigs, what do you say we find out?

Artist: Rush

Album: Snakes and Arrows

Sounds Like: Another clinic in “musicianship” from “the masters” that won’t be heard by a fucking soul because a) most of you don’t live in Canada were “the Man” dictates that 40% of the radio/tv content be Canadian in origin and b) you more than likely think this is “your father’s music.” Silly fuck-tards.

Anne Murray”¦ Greatest American Hero”¦ 8^th Grade Shop Teacher.

I’m sure some of you may recall me saying that the greatest thing to come out of Canada was Anne Murray. Of course, I was just pulling your leg like Paul McCartney getting Heather Mills ready for a good, hard fucking. A complete and total joke, people! Although Anne Murray is highly regarded in Canada by the same people who have, in the past, “highly regarded” “comedian” Tom Greene and “singer” Corey Hart, she’s done nothing more for me outside of being a “chick” that bears an uncanny resemblance to my 8^th grade shop teacher, Mr. Trodick (I swear on all that is holy that was his name). In fact, I haven’t verified this, but I am guessing that they are one in the same and that “she,” too, has only 2 fingers remaining on her left hand from a drunken dance with a table saw. One day, Mr. Murray”¦ one day. We WILL learn the truth.

You see, if I had been being serious here, you would now know that the best things to come out of Canada are those tasty french fries, with a name that sounds a hell of a lot like “poon tang,” covered in brown gravy and chunks of what appears to be “FromUnda” cheese”¦

Fresh from the fry cook’s butthole area to your mouth”¦

*Quick digression and no-shit true story… the first time I ever had these things, at a Rush show in Toronto believe it or not, I thought the Canadians were playing a trick on me for all the crap I’ve written about them in these articles. “Oh, ha ha”¦” I thought. “Funny Canucks squirting chocolatey poo-juice on my french fries and adding your ‘taint pickings! Ha ha!” Of course, that didn’t stop me from putting those fried ‘taters in my mouth (DAMN YOU, ORAL FIXATION!!!!) and holy crap”¦ I’m glad I did. Those fries are like crack (no pun intended)”¦ covered in gravy”¦ and “FromUnda” cheese.*

And the other most-bestest thing to come out of that godforsaken country to the nort’ is the progressive rock band, Rush. In fact, as I’m sitting here writing this, I have on my original “2112” concert tee. Yeah”¦ rocking it old school”¦ dork style. Hey, fuck off”¦ not like I’m getting ready to play D&D in mom’s basement after this. I live on my own, dammit. I have my own basement now.

Now, to say that I was greatly looking forward to this new album, Snakes and Arrows, is an understatement akin to saying that R. Kelley only “kinda” likes to pee on people or Michael Jackson only “sorta” likes to wear young boys like class rings. See, as far as I’m concerned, May 1^st, the date the new Rush album is released, should be a national holiday. In fact, I’m proposing it right now. May 1^st, to me and hundreds of thousands of Rush fans around the world and mostly in Brazil will now be, at least, an official holiday. We’ll call it Rush-ashana”¦or Rush-mas”¦or, hell, I don’t know”¦ Uno de Mayo? Whatever.

And make no mistake, Rush fans and people that SHOULD be Rush fans, May 1^st will be a day of great celebration for it will be filled with cake and porn (hey”¦ it’s my fucking holiday, I’ll make the rules. K?) and some phenomenal new music for May 1^st will be a day when this amazing trio unleashes it’s best album in over 20 years (read: since Power Windows, circa 1985). Yeah, Rush fans”¦ you read that correctly. Bring it on, bitches. You want to dance? Oh, we can dance! We can dance.

Good lord”¦ I wish I was wearing THAT Rush shirt”¦ with her still in it.

The reason I say this? Well, aside from the overall strength of all the tracks on this album in both melody and complexity, Snakes & Arrows is easily the best produced Rush disc in years. There is not a “Dog Years” on this mother fucker AND the mix doesn’t sound like it was done in the bottom of a Port-a Potty. Take a bow, Mr. Nick Raskulinecz of Foo Fighters fame. You done good, son. You done good. Nothing like hiring a Rush fan to mix a Rush album, eh, hosers?

Yes, unlike the last studio outing, the muddy and uneven Vapor Trails, Snakes & Arrows marks a return to form for this band in both production quality and musicality.

You fiddlin’ with my knob?

With searing and crisp delivery and an accessibility that defies most Rush albums, EVERY track on this bitch is a winner. Sure, some tracks are more accessible than others to the casual listener, like the Oingo Boingo-esque, “The Larger Bowl” (just listen to that arpegiated chord progression during the verse”¦ Boingo all the way, baby!), the country-fried, Alex-centrique instrumental, “Hope,” and, of course, the first, melodically driving single “Far Cry,” but dig deep and you hard core fans can be rewarded with songs like the ass-kicking, Geddy/Neil showcase of “Malignant Narcissism” and one of the strongest tracks this band has EVER recorded (and one of Neil’s personal favorites) “We Hold On.” Good shit, all around people. Seriously.

Quite simply, if you are a fan of Tool, Porcupine Tree or even Pink Floyd and have previously avoided Rush as being too “obtuse,” give them another chance. This is your disc. If you are a casual fan of the band, give in to temptation and reward yourself by checking out this entire disc. You won’t be disappointed. If you are not a fan of this band, well”¦fuck you. I hate you with the hate of a 1,000 Oprahs. You make my heart cry and my anus bleed. Keep pining for that new Linkin’ Park disc, “friend.” It’s coming soon and I’m sure that it will be *COUGH* brilliant.

I bet”¦

If, for some reason, you are still not sold on checking this disc out, allow me to put it in the vernacular of my fellow Rush fans/D&D freaks”¦ Rush may have -3 Charisma, but they are minstrels with +21 Dexterity and you would be forgoing the Chalice of Everlasting Orgasms if you miss this puppy. Know what I’m saying?

Now, if you’ll excuse me”¦ I’m off to “roll the old 12-sided die””¦ if you catch my drift”¦

I have mace? Ha! That’s what SHE said!

Up till now, I’ve really dug what I’ve heard come out of Madlib. Granted, I’ve only heard one cd and a handful of songs, but every one of those has been pretty damn good. Unfortunately that streak seems to have hit a wall. Now when I say hit a wall, I mean that the streak was riding in a car without a seatbelt when the streak’s girlfriend asked him why they weren’t married yet. Well you know the streak and you know that he’s not ready to settle down to one piece of poon tang, so he brushes his girl off. Well the streak’s girlfriend gets all pissed off and emotional, like chicks do, and crashes the car into a wall. Since the streak wasn’t wearing his seatbelt, he flies thru the window and hits the wall himself. You see what I’m getting at here? No? Damn, I was never very good at metaphors. Or is that a simile? Who the hell cares? All I know is that this new album from Madlib isn’t all that great. That thing about the streak and his girlfriend. Um, yeah, about that. That’s a story for another time. Moving on.

This album, Time Out Presents The Other Side: Los Angeles, is kinda hard to describe. It’s credited as a Madlib disc, but a lot of the tracks are instrumentals with other peoples names on them. The disc also skips from genre to genre. There’s straight up rap songs on it, there’s some that lean more towards the reggae and there are some that feature hard core jazz noodling. Yes, I said “hard core jazz noodling,” deal with it. For the most part, the album probably isn’t bad, it’s just not what I was expecting, so I think that my opinion might be a bit tainted. That might be why this album initially squeaked in under my radar. I didn’t know it was coming out until I saw it actually sitting on the shelf.

Aside from the disappointment of the album not living up to my hopes and expectations, there are some pretty good songs on this album. MED’s song “What It Do” is a damn fine song. This track sounds like the Madlib that I thought I knew. The beats are tight as are the flows by rappers MED and Poke. Then there’s the collaboration with beat pioneer J. Dilla (R.I.P. Dilla!) that is short but insanely groovy. But these few bright spots only serve as beacons in an otherwise boring album. Even the track by the mostly reliable and entertaining Quasimoto (an alias of Madlib) fails to hit that special bar that he has hit before.

Like I said, this album is probably pretty good, if you listen to it in the right frame of mind. I was expecting a cd full of bumpin raps. Instead I get a mix and mash of a ton of different styles. Over time, I’m sure my pleasure in listening to this album will grow, but after the first few listens, all I can say is “eh?” Oh and the cd also comes with a DVD by Peanut Butter Wolf, taking the viewer on a visual tour of Los Angeles. I haven’t watched it yet. What? I got too much porn to watch.

REVIEWS BY”¦

A College Freshman Majoring in Liberal Arts

Artist: Good Charlotte

Album: Good Morning Revivial

As I was walking across campus to my “Feminist Indian Poetry in the 20^th Century” class the other day, I was enjoying an internal monologue and just thinking to myself “Good Charlotte are so”¦ lame. Anyone that listens to them is immature”¦and stupid.” And so is their new album.

I mean, sure I used to listen to them when I was in high school but that was sooo forever ago. Now that I’ve matured, my musical tastes have become more sophisticated. I listen to “real” music now like the Shins and Death Cab For Cutie. Okay, I’ll listen to a little bit of Fall Out Boy but that’s about as “high school” as I get these days because high school was lame and it sucked and everyone in it was so immature”¦ and stupid.

Okay, I’ll admit it”¦ actually, I didn’t listen to the new Good Charlotte CD. I had a test in “Rhetorical Lesbian Rantings of the Late 19^th Century” and I just didn’t have the time. But I’ll guarantee that it is immature and stupid. In fact, this girl in my “Television in Society: From Dick Van Dyke to Friends” class said something about liking this group, Bright Eyes, so I’ve been listening to them a lot lately. At first I didn’t like it but the more I listen, the more I think I like it. That and this girl is really mature and way hot so I have to hurry up and like this. Man, she is really super smart. She reads Joyce for fun. For fun!! I think I love this girl.

So yeah”¦ Good Charlotte. Totally lame. Like my “Economics” class, “Chemistry” or “Business Ethics.” I mean, if you’re some stupid, immature high school kid, I guarantee that you will totally eat this album up. But then again, what do you know? You’re just a kid. Mark my words, once you grow up and go to college, you’ll realize just how immature you were and you, too, will like bands like Bright Shins. I mean Bright Eyes.

Let’s face it, high school kids just don’t get it. You just haven’t lived enough yet. God, what I would give to go back to high school knowing now what I didn’t know then. I mean, with what I’ve learned in this last semester in my “Knowing Nietzsche” class alone”¦hell, I’d rule that school. And I’d like to see those popular kids kick my ass after I whip out a little Gertrude Stein on their feeble minds. Their immature asses would just sit there”¦trembling. But whatever. Now that I’m in college and things are totally different, I don’t even care about high school anymore and stupid, immature bands like Good Charlotte. I just don’t have the time to be listening to stuff like that anymore.

At any rate, I’d give this new Good Charlotte one immature high school kid out of a possible five. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for my “Radical Thinking in Children’s Literature” class.

Well, friends, there’s another one in the bank. Until next time, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send pictures of your 8^th grade shop teacher, review copies, assorted hate mail and presents to:

M. C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hey everybody! This week at Music for the Masses we are ramming our fist in and digging deep into an un-lubed vault to pull forth one of the legendary issues of this here column. “Legendary how?,” you ask. Why, because I say so, that’s why…and umm, because it was the issue from exactly a year ago and I just couldn’t get motivated to write about the new one from the Cowboy Junkies. Sorry. Life… what an unfair bitch, huh? Now, if you are a long-time reader, well, gee, it really sucks to be you this week because you’ve already read this and, I’m sure, laughed till you cried. However, if you are relatively new to our corner of the web, file this one under “New To You” and enjoy a time in this articles existence when I actually did multiple reviews all by myself with nary a Double A or J.D. in sight, opened with a mighty helping of non-musical bullshit, the site was named after a butthole and I had a weird infatuation with Clay Aiken…umm, don’t ask. So, without further ado and because I need to get back to watching Face Fucke…I mean, working, I present to you this little blast from past…

MUSIC FOR THE MASSES

April 19th, 2006

By M.C. Bell

Hello, friends. Glad you made it back, safe and sound. I have a question for all you out there: do you enjoy sleep as much as I do? If you’re anything like me, and we’ve already established you are, then the answer is “Damn straight, M.C. You bet we do!” And I gotta say, friends, I enjoy the hell out of sleeping but unfortunately, I had been having a little trouble lately falling to sleep on the spotty, old futon. Hell, even the old stand-bys like warm milk, sex, which I like to call “Dancing with the Jackson 5” and the last couple episodes of Lost couldn’t even put me to sleep. And believe you me, if the last couple episodes of Lost can’t knock you out, you know you’re in trouble. I was so desperate, in fact, that I turned to an amazing, little pill known for its dramatic effects. No, I’m not talking Viagara®, although, I will admit that a 4 hour erection gets to be a little tiring. I’m actually talking about Ambien®.

Have you heard about this stuff? If you haven’t, let me be the first to tell you that, holy crap, these pills REALLY work. Here’s the directions for usage, as I understand them: Take two pills, chase them with a fifth of Jack and wake up sometime next Tuesday. What’s that you say? Can’t afford to sleep for 6 days straight? No worries, because you see, that’s the best part. Apparently, while you are asleep, your interactions with the world never stop. Pretty cool, huh? Of course, you do need to be careful, because, as I have been made painfully aware, you can get yourself into all kinds of mischief.

For instance, it appears that while enjoying my Ambien slumber, I have become quite the internet shopper. My favorite item? Underwear. No big deal, right? In fact, when I awoke the first time and found 4 packs of Hanes skivvies on the counter, I was like, “Cool! New sausage covers!” You see, I really needed new underwear because most of my old ones looked like they hit a deer doing 60. But over time, I started buying. . .umm, “strange” underwear and then, one of my friends showed me this. . .

Apparently sometimes, when I’m asleep, I just want to feel pretty.

You know, it’s all fun and games until your friends show you a picture of yourself, with freshly shorn legs and your junk taped to your butt, dressed in Wonder Woman underwear, flexing in the middle of your tricked out bachelor pad. These are the things that make you say, “Whoa!” So, needless to say, I’ve cut back a bit on the Ambien consumption. Good thing, too. I was starting to have some pretty bizarre dreams. In fact, just the other night I was dreaming that I was eating tootsie rolls from a fancy hors de oeuvres tray and woke up hugging my cat’s litter box. You know, maybe I should stop taking this crap before I buy something really expensive or dream that I’m eating a hot fudge sundae and wake up with a spoon sticking out of my ass.

I bought this new video and some of her perfume, which smells like 4 day old ham and stale urine.

So, friends, if you know anybody who needs a crate of the new Mariah Carey perfume, which is called, provocatively enough “Crème Filled,” “The View” cookbook, tickets to Puppetry of the Penis or some velour sweatpants with “I Love Simon Cowell!” emblazoned across the ass, let me know. Or, hell, maybe I’ll just throw them back on eGay where I found them. Ba da bum!!

But enough about that. This week, we have some exciting new releases like the sequel to Operation Mindcrime from Queensryche, the new Flaming Lips, Blue October and Built To Spill. Plus, we get to hear what some readers are listening too. Pretty full plate, eh? So. . .what do you say? Let’s get to it, shall we?

Artist: Queensryche Album: Operation: Mindcrime II Bastard Love Child of: Cool, old Queensryche and the newer, “suckier” version. Best for: Making you realize two things about this band, a) Geoff Tate has “questionable” sexuality and b) the band’s best music is behind them.

Wow! Is that “Pleather?”

Ask any progressive metal fan and they’ll tell you that Operation: Mindcrime II is the coolest and most highly anticipated event of the year. However, what they won’t tell you about this new Queensryche release is that it is also, arguably, the coolest thing to happen to them in the last 18 years outside of the one time they “accidentally” saw their cousin’s tit while water-skiing. Seriously. You see, it has been 18 long, lonely, masturbation-filled years for Queensryche fans since they were first treated to Operation: Mindcrime.

Now, many of you out there are probably asking yourself “Why in the hell is this new release so exciting?” And the answer to that is simple, folks, but bear with me a sec. You see, first, I gotta tell you that Operation: Mindcrime is one, kick-ass album. And, for those of you who don’t know or have smoked WAY too much meth recently, Mindcrime is a progressive-metal concept album that tells the story of a government-trained killer, Nikki, who is set up for the murder of his girlfriend after refusing orders to kill her and is sent to prison to play butt-darts with his cell mate, Leon. Okay. . .maybe that last part is just “implied.” Regardless, the disc was a marvel of progressive musicianship and a monster hit for the band. Oh yeah, and it is, easily, one of the best concept albums ever produced.

So, needless to say, any fan would be excited by a continuation of this story. But in all actuality, Operation: Mindcrime 2 is exciting to progressive rock fans because after looking at the lead singer here. . .

many of us were just happy that the new album wasn’t a sequel to this. . .

Seriously… I’m convinced that we dodged a bullet here. That’s right, friends, luckily, Queensryche decided to ignore Geoff Tate’s proclivity for ass-less chaps and body glitter and decided to go back to what they do best as a band: angry, pissed-off concept albums. Operation: Mindcrime II fits that bill nicely and picks up the original’s story right where it leaves off. Our hero, Nikki, is still in prison and still scratching his head going “WTF?” However, as the album progresses, Nikki is released and we soon come to find out that there is going to be hell to pay. You see, apparently Nikki is a little peeved at a) being wrongfully imprisoned and b)having his asshole re-sized to accommodate an eggplant. Again, I’m pretty sure that last part was “implied.” And being a trained killer and all, Nikki has little trouble exacting revenge on his tormentors, with the exception of Leon, in a sufficiently bloody way.

All in all, I gotta tell you. . .the whole “Rock, Revenge, and Redemption” angle works really well here. It’s more than apparent that these guys desperately miss their original guitarist, Chris Degarmo, but overall, their sound is as loud, complex and entertaining as it has been in years. It is also nice to see the band move back to their progressive roots and riff-heavy music. Operation: Mindcrime II still captures the whole “musically adventurous rock opera” thing, but falls short of being as brilliant as its predecessor. Still, I gotta say that it manages to entertain both fans and non-fans alike.

Supposedly, one of the main selling points for old fans of the band is that Mary’s killer is finally revealed. But I gotta tell you… I’ve listened to this disc like 18 times, plus I read the lyrics, and I couldn’t tell you who the hell murdered the nappy whore. Maybe it was Dr. X in the Billiards Room with the Candlestick. Shit, I don’t know.

If you are an old fan of the band, I would definitely recommend buying the CD. . .of course, I’m sure that most of you already have. For you non-fans out there, do yourself a favor and pick up the original Operation: Mindcrime. It doesn’t get much better than that. Then, once you’ve been converted, come back to this new album and check out my personal favorites: “I’m American,” “The Hands,” “Re-Arrange You,” “The Chase” (which features guest vocals from Ronnie James Dio as Dr. X) and “Please Don’t Do Me In The Ass Again, Leon. . .I’m Sore.” Of course, that last song title, I believe, is mostly just “implied.”

Sir… I’m going to have to ask you to remove the ferret from your chest and slowly. . .slowly take your hand out of your pants.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Artist: Flaming Lips Album:At War with the Mystics Bastard Love Child of: The Velvet Underground and Syd Barret-era Pink Floyd. Best for: Making Pink Floyd’s “Live at Pompeii” seem “not all that weird” and somewhat “entertaining.”

“I’m in the Flaming Lips band. My best friend is my right hand.”

You know, the first thing I think about when I hear the words “Flaming Lips” is “Good lord, woman… get yourself to a gynecologist, stat!” The second thing I think about is that I always wanted to be a free-lance gynecologist but, apparently, the great state of Colorado frowns upon somebody opening a clinic out of the back of a’72 Dodge Dart. Third, I think about Wayne Coyne’s bizarre-ass, little musical group from Oklahoma… where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plains.

Love them or hate them, you have to admit that the guys in the Flaming Lips, well, mostly Wayne, have created some of the most interesting, unusual and, more times than not, annoying music out there today. Originally formed in 1983, the FLips, as their equally freakish fans like to call them, have been cranking out art house, acid pop at a fairly prolific rate. Of course, this assumes that you consider Wayne Coyne’s attempts at directing an “orchestra” of 40 cars with synchronized tape decks as “music” (I shit you not. Try as I might, you just can’t make some of this stuff up).

Now, it is usually easy to dismiss a band like this (I’m looking at you, Coulier!), but what keeps the Flaming Lips interesting is that every once in a while, they hit one out of the park. Take their last album, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, for instance. That disc was actually a main-stream hit. In fact, it was the most success the band has had in almost 13 years (and no, I don’t count that appearance on Beverly Hills, 90120 as a measure of success. If it would have been Melrose Place… or Charles In Charge, maybe.)

Honestly? My money’s on the “guy in black” being the REALLY fucked up one.

So, needless to say, when I picked up the new disc, At War with the Mystics, I had no clue what to expect, aside from some freaky guitar work, and my expectations could not have been lower. And maybe that’s EXACTLY why I enjoyed this disc as much as I did.

Believe it or not, At War with the Mystics is actually a pretty straight forward, psychedelic rocker with only minimal, “spacey” interludes. I’m guessing that Wayne is finally taking his meds. Hooray, for Lithium!! Keep in mind, though, this is still a Flaming Lips disc. For instance, I did start to panic a bit when I heard the very first track, “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” for the very first time. If you haven’t heard this song yet, think of the most annoying voice in the world, say Fran Drescher’s, and picture it saying “Jah, Jah, Jah,” over and over again. Yeah, exactly. I honestly thought the song was going to make me sterile. . .not sure how, but I SWEAR I could feel the little guys dying. . .and all I could think was, “Oh shit. Here we go.” But these moments are, thankfully, few and far between and don’t detract as much from the “actual” music as they did on either of their last two albums.

If you are unsure of whether or not this disc is for you, I would recommend that you dress up in your finest “Green Alien with Giant Yellow Nippples” costume and check out they very Floyd-esque tracks “The Sound of Failure” and “It Overtakes Me.” If you dig the sound of those two tracks, this disc is a safe and solid bet.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Artist: Blue October Album: Foiled Bastard Love Child of: Peter Gabriel and Nickelback. . .that one’s for you, Chris! Best for:Helping you understand that some artists do their best work while totally and completely bat-shit, insane.

I’m pretty sure they are yelling something about wearing eye shadow to the photo shoot.

Much like my friend, Justin, I’m sitting here in my dippity-do room at the hospital, typing on the old tuna. They tell me that I recently had some kind of psychotic break, triggered by repeated listenings of John Tesh’s new album Tunes From A Giant Forhead. But how can I argue? I love tacos. Talking to the doctor, the one who looks like Dick Cheney, I came to the realization that I can only, truly, find my happy Plah-doh© place if I’m listening to singers who dance like Peter Gabriel. Crazy, huh? Yep, peanut butter! Find me one of those floating in the sky and I’m going to be happier than Michael Jackson on a NAMBLA-sponsored camping trip. Ever hear John Cusack play his raincoat to Kate’s Bush, I mean, Kate Bush? Whatever, porkchop… I will not hurt the nice people. But Peter Gabriel’s music, to me, is about as good as talking envelopes get. Uh oh… here comes the orange nurse with sleep in her hand. What’s that hairy nurse? Time for my pills? But I’m talking to my friend’s right now and I don’ttttttttttttttttttttttttttt….

Okay… back now… for a bit. Now where was I? Oh yeah… Peter Gabriel. So, right about now you are probably saying to yourself, “Holy shit, that was weird” and “Hey, that’s great, but what exactly does Peter Gabriel have to do with the dude, up there in the picture, wearing the latest from Mabeline’s ‘Trashy Club Whore’ collection?”

Well, I’ll tell you. See, first, Justin Furstenfeld, that guy up there with a mild case of “gender confusion,” had a little problem with “reality” and was “committed” to an “insane” asylum. . .like me. Who knew they could commit you for putting too much male nudity up on the internet? Unlike me, he is the lead singer for a hot new group, Blue October, and the dude sounds EXACTLY like Peter Gabriel. And no, I’m not hallucinating again or throwing that comparison around lightly. And yes, I am lucid enough now to know that I’ve said that before, like with the group Elbow, but this time I mean it… kinda like when I tell the girls I date that I’m only going to put it in for a minute and then take it right back out (And, yes, they are having me work through those “lying” issues in therapy, too). I defy you to listen to this band for more than 30 seconds, any song, and tell me that Justin doesn’t sound like a Gabriel clone. And no, junior, I don’t mean that in a bad way.

This is Blue October’s new poster warning of the dangers of auto-erotic asphyxiation.

I mean it in an “Oh my God, that crazy SOB created an AMAZING disc” way. I’ve always said, when it comes to musicians, and on-line music reviewers, “the wackier the better.” And if Foiled represents the kind of material that you can come up with while swatting at imaginary bugs and watching Judge Judy between sponge baths, then I’m all for it. Hell, if this is the kind of output you can have when you’re nuts, I might extend my stay a bit. After all, I get three squares a day here, all the drugs I can take, a free drool-bib and a nice spot down by the duck pond for when I get “too excited.” I’ve even had time to create a list of singers and artists I feel should be committed, too. First up? Easy. Brittany “Baby, You Can Drive My Car” Spears.

You want crazy? This chick is crazy.

Bat-shit insane, “cuckoo for Coco Puffs,” Looney as a Tune… whatever… Blue October (consisting of lead vocalist Justin, three or four random voices in his head, violinist/keyboardist Ryan Delahoussaye, drummer Jeremy Furstenfeld, guitarist CB Hudson and bassist Matt Novesky) has crafted a virtually perfect album. Pretty lofty statement, huh? No, I’m still not hallucinating… although I feel the pills wearing off and no, I’m not joking. Foiled just surpassed Hotel Lights as my favorite to be released this year. Each and every song here is single-worthy, immediately recognizable, catchy, clever and most importantly, different in both tempo and mood. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m serious. It is truly phenomenal, with a little something for all the different voices in your head. I firmly believe that this is the album that will finally break this band… in a BIG way. You heard it hear first, pudding hand. Uh oh… fading fast… better wrap this up.

In addition to the first single, “Hate Me,” check out the pencil’s best songs, the melodic and moody “Into the Ocean” and the spank-tastic “X-Amount of Words.” You know, Timmy ate it, too, and he didn’t turn green so you should definitely know that its absolutely brilliant. Buy the whole disc and eat it on rye with a slice of pickle. That makes for one, delicious swimming pool!!!

Rating: 5 out 5

Artist: Built To Spill Album: You In Reverse Bastard Love Child of: Pavement and Neil Young Best for:Making any yard, garden or record collection complete.

3 guys and their lawn gnome.

So, you probably don’t know this, (kudos if you do), but that guy in the picture above, Doug Martsch, wearing the hat with the “reservoir tip,” is an honest to goodness, alternative guitar god. Bet you’ve never heard that statement before, eh? Let’s see… counting all of the “alternative guitar gods”… you have… umm, well, Doug and… umm.. a nd J. Mascis from Dinosaur Jr. … and, well, that’s about it.

Here’s Doug showing his “cheeky” side during Lollapalooza.

Yep, without a doubt, Doug can play one mean guitar AND, apparently, grow one helluva beard. Together with an ever-rotating cast of supporting characters, Doug Martsch crafted numerous, outstanding, guitar-driven albums, like 1994’s There’s Nothing Wrong With Love, fan-favorite Perfect From Now On and the amazing Keep It Like a Secret, that helped make Built To Spill one of the biggest alternative acts of the ’90’s. Of course, tearing up the stages of Lollapalooza as one of the more consistent and entertaining acts didn’t hurt, either.

And then came their last disc, Ancient Melodies of the Future, a self-indulgent (even for these guys) and boring piece of crap that put a halt to the band’s stellar, indie track record. In fact, if there is ANYBODY out there thinking of buying this album, give me your $12 and, in return, I’ll kick you square in the nuts. Trust me. . .it will be a more enjoyable experience. Of course, if you don’t have nuts (i.e. ladies or married men), well… give me your $12 and I’ll just sucker punch you in the throat. Again… it will be a much more enjoyable experience.

In fact, I had all but forgotten this band until, during a random conversation, I was informed that Doug and the gang (no relation to Kool) were coming out with a new album. Needless to say, when I first heard this, I was a bit conflicted. At first, I was like “Sweet! Those guys used to rock.” But then I was like, “Ahh. . .damn! How am I going to kick myself in the nuts?” Luckily, I’m not going to have to figure out the logistics on how that would work.

Here’s Doug enjoying a smoke in his garden home.

Built To Spill’s new album, You In Reverse, is a winner. Straight up. The songs are still expansive and the guitars are still intricately tangled and fuzzy, but the Boise, Idaho based band has trimmed things up a bit. For starters, the songs are a tad shorter (with the exception of the opening track) and the “Bearded One” has somehow managed to replace his propensity for ripping killer guitar solos with a more restrained propensity for turning a catchy, lyrical phrase. Pretty slick. And I will readily admit, tightening things up works EXTREMELY well. However, you old school fans should be forewarned because it’s highly likely that the inclusion of the additional, and more subdued, vocals is going to piss you off. But then again, your propensity for not showering pisses ME off, so we’ll call it square, k?

The “other” thing I really like about this new album is how Martsch crafts the solos to not sound like filler… umm, even though they probably are… and the sound here, overall, is a lot less “jam band.” In particular, check out the concise guitar work in “Conventional Wisdom.” Good stuff! Other album highlights are the tracks “Liar,” the album closer “The Wait” and the Tex-Mex romp “Mess With Time.”

Rating: 3.5 out of 5

AND NOW, FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT… AGAIN.

So… last time out, I begged you fine folks to let me in on your secret, musical worlds and only a few of you actually responded. And to those of you who did? Thank you and know this… I am reserving a special place in heaven for you, as I do for all of my special helpers. Of course, it’s at the “kid’s table” with Jon Benet, but don’t worry… we’ll save you some potatoes.

For the rest of you, I am going to create “Hell on Earth” until you shoot me an email telling me which bands or songs make your naughty spot tingle. How am I going to do that? Simple. I am going to run a fresh, new picture of Clay Aiken each and every time until I am satisfied. Consider yourself warned. Oh, and enjoy the picture there of Clay having his prostrate milked.

Bet hey… how about some props for the foks that sent me the 411, ‘aight? For instance, I received this email from “A,” an actual, female reader. Seriously. You know, much like the Yeti or Bigfoot, I knew in my heart that female readers existed but I never had proof… until now…

“A” writes: “What I’m playing over and over and over and over… is the new Dresden Dolls, “Yes, Virginia.”

Outstanding, “A. I, too, enjoy the whole “German cabaret” alternative thing and I’m not even gay! Well, at least not since that one time in college, but I was really, really drunk and I barely enjoyed it.

I also received an email from one of the coolest readers I have, Josh Rothberg. Not only does Josh have impeccable taste, but he, apparently, has a set of the biggest balls I have never seen. Check out how he not only gives me his top shelf bands, but he also offers up, unsolicited, a list of guilty pleasures…

Here’s a list of bands and artists that grab me by the balls and squeeze ’em until I’m singing like Clay Aiken:

Wilco. System of a down. Audioslave. Kanye West. Weezer. The mutha-fing White Stripes. and, my all-time favorite band ever, The Beatles. old school, but still the shiznit.

As for my guilty pleasures: Rockwell “somebody’s watching me”, Alice Cooper “man behind the mask”, Limahl “neverending story”, Gerard McMann “Cry little sister”—Marilyn Manson’s got nothing on Gerard McMann, believe it!

You know, out of respect for Josh’s “largeness” and for him actually admitting to liking Rockwell… I will reserve further comment. I’m not even going to say anything about a white guy’s blatant use of the word “shiznet.”

And last, but surely not least… we have Slack Robert, from Canada. Of course, as many of you know from past experience with readers from Canada, I will have to slow down my typing now so that Robert can read along…

Right now, its Social Distortion’s Sex, Love and Rock and Roll…

What else is spanking my ass and calling me Suzie these days…? Hank III. Metric. Magneta Lane. Elliot Brood. The Populars. Broken Social Scene. Brian Setzer’s new one kicked me in the ass, drank my whiskey and left me for dead on the side of the road. The Swiftys. The Kills. The Inner City Surfers.

Wow, Robert. That’s an impressive list. Here’s how I read it:

BLAH BLAH Social Distortion’s Sex, Love and Rock and Roll BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH Hank III BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH Brian Setzer’s new oneBLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH.

So, in regards to your list, Robert, I, too, really dig Social D, Hank III and Brian Setzer.! Just joking, man. Nice work. I honestly haven’t heard of a lot of those Canadian bands, but if you say they are winners, I will definitely check them out. After all, one of my favorite bands of all time hails from Canada… Rush, baby!! Yeah!!

Well, friends, I’m afraid that is going to wrap it up. Whew!! That was a long one, huh? Until next time, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send your herbal sleep remedies, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

See you next week, folks!

Howdy, friends! It’s me, M.C. Did you miss me? I sure missed all of you. In fact, I was missing you more than Lance Armstrong misses his left nut. Okay, maybe not THAT much, but I did miss you and unlike Lance’s nut and more like a raging case of “hooker herpes,” I came back. “Back from what,” you ask? Why, back from a spring break filled with wild, exotic adventures and super hot babes”¦ assuming, of course, you substitute the terms “wild, exotic adventures” with “skiing” and “super hot babes” with “a Vaseline®-coated oven mit.” At any rate, I’m here and I’m dying to serve up another helping of Music for the Masses. This week, I check out the upcoming release from indie-fave and, because he knows Jenny Lewis, luckiest bastard alive, Bright Eyes and Double A falls in and out of love with the new one from Timbaland. Plus, R. Lee Ermey answers reader questions!! Sound like fun? Well, what do you say we find out?

Bright Eyes

Album: Cassadaga

Sounds like: That one dream you had where Jeff Tweedy was giving Neil Young a hand job in the dirty rest room of an Arby’s while Emerson, Lake and Palmer played softly in the background. Oh, come on now”¦don’t act like you don’t remember THAT dream.

Question for you”¦any of you ever been to Nebraska? I mean, on purpose and not just on a dare or because the ONLY chick that would take you into her mouth went to school there? No? Well, don’t feel bad”¦I try to avoid that Godforsaken place and I live right next to the mother fucker. But hey, from what I hear, Nebraska is a rockin’, kick ass kind of place. *COUGH*

For instance, did you know that Nebraska is the birthplace of Kool-Aid® and it’s chief exports are natural gas, guys named “Chet,” soybeans, religious intolerance, “fear of change” and “Corno?”

Yeah, baby”¦ ride that thing ’til it pops”¦

How about that the state flower is the Goldenrod and that the state motto is “Somebody Had To Eat It, Might As Well Have Been Dave?” No? Ever see a picture of Miss Nebraska?

Well, now you have.

Did you know that it’s against the law to sneeze, burp or fart in a Nebraska church? I shit you not. How about that they offer you the chance to have “The Beef State” emblazoned upon your “ILIKCOK” personalized license plate? Come on, now”¦I’m sure you’ve heard of their vaunted college football team, the Butt”¦ I mean, Corn Huskers?

You hike it to me and I’ll take it deep to your tight end”¦

Okay”¦ how about the fact that Nebraska is the 16^th largest state (in terms of square mileage) and has a population of 1,711,263 (as of 2000) with 1,711,261 of those people being certifiably “retarded” (the other 2 were just passing through the state at the time of the census on their way to Dubuque, IA). Seriously. According to Wikipedia, the governor of the fucking state is Corky from “Life Goes On”¦”

“I pledge to make Snak-Pak’s® the State Food!! YAY!!”

And you all know that Wikipedia is NEVER wrong. But, perhaps the most important thing about Nebraska is that it is the birthplace of Connor Oberst, or, as you may know him, lead singer and “creative force extraordinaire” behind the band Bright Eyes.

Do not adjust your set”¦ he really is built like a “bobble-head” doll.

Now, contrary to the implication in the name, Bright Eyes is actually a band that consists, primarily, of Mr. Oberst on guitar, multi-instrumentalist/huge-cocked, uber-stud Mike Mogis and trumpet player Nate Walcot. Throw in some other artists/occasional sheep fuckers from the local, Omaha music scene (Jake Bellows on guitar, Anton Patzner on bass, Rachel Blumberg on drums and Kelsey Guerra on piano) to round things out and you have the Bright Eyes line-up that has brought you the seventh kick ass new studio disc, Cassadaga. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the title of the disc refers to a community of “mediums” in Florida. Thought you’d like to know.

I can foresee your character “unearthing” a very large bone”¦

Now, for you fans keeping score at home, this album isn’t much of a departure from Bright Eye’s previous catalog and is right in line with his I’m Wide Awake/It’s Morning disc. A little “folksy,” a little “bluesy,” a little “rock-y” and a whole lotta good. Hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t fucking fix it. Know what I’m saying? Can you smell what I’m cooking? Of course, one thing I would have changed is Mr. Oberst’s, or as I like to call him, “Sparkle Tits,” penchant for starting off each disc with several minutes of random shit before actually getting to the music. Yeah”¦you can knock that shit off anytime now. Seriously, dude… I didn’t stea… I mean pick up this disc to hear some bullshit, transcendent artistic statement through interpretive noise. On the contrary, I picked it up to coax the co-ed living next to me with the dyed black hair, horned-rimmed glasses and blue and white stripped t-shirt to let me wear her like a feedbag.

The first “single,” if you can call it that because Sparkle Tits doesn’t release singles-he just makes songs “available to listen to,” “Four Winds,” with it’s blistering, anti-religious lyrics and simple melodies, proves out as one of the strongest tracks on the album. In fact, this is really all you need to gauge whether or not this disc is for you as the rest of the tracks follow suit. Long story short, if you dig that song, you’ll love this album more than Brad Delp loved to barbeque in the bathroom. If you hear the song and are instantly reminded of that obnoxious Poetry major that hung out at the coffee shop attracting all the chicks with his “emotion” and “wordiness” then. well, Linkin Park has a new one coming out soon so you better start saving up.

Is it me or does he kinda look like K.D. Lang?

Overall, this is a tight piece of work from when of the best songwriters working today and if you give it a chance, I’m confident you’ll dig it. However, if you want more proof, bop on over to www.myspace.com/brighteyes and check some of the tracks out for yourself. Personally, I really like the moody “No One Would Riot For Less” with the hot-sounding back up singers. They make my naughty bits tingle. In fact, they’re tingling so much, I’m going to go now and have lusty sex with my new, mail order, Nebraska bride”¦

Oh Timbaland, I hardly knew ye. I’m serious, I really don’t know what you’ve done in the past. I vaguely remember the stuff that you did a long time ago with the blind, cartoon curmudgeon Mr. Magoo, and I know you make a decent pair of boots. Wait, what? Timbaland worked with the rapper Magoo, not the cartoon character? Oh and it’s TimbeRland that makes the boots? My bad. Just about the only thing that I really know about Timbaland is that he’s one of the hottest producer around and that his new album, this here Shock Value, has been one of the most anticipated hip-hopish albums of this young year. So I decided that I would check into the hype of it all and see what the big deal was. Apparently the big deal is an assload of guest stars, and really not much else.

Just about everyone who’s big in music today was brought onto this album to help flesh out the tracks. Justin Timberlake? Check. Fall Out Boy? Yup, they’re there. Elton John? That’s a big 10-4, sailor. But while some of the guests really help the songs, like the track “Time” featuring She Wants Revenge, a lot of the guests seem to hurt the potential of the song. The beats and the flow of the album is decent, and when Timbaland cuts lose, the songs are really entertaining. Unfortunately, right about the time he does cut lose is when the “guest” steps in to give the song a little push. That’s where things go wrong. The emphasis on this album seems to be about making a great dance album, and if that’s what you’re into, then you’ll probably love this album. For me though, not so much.

From what I’ve heard, Timbaland is damn good at what he does, and that is putting out music that people will buy. I’m sure that people will really dig this album, but I really wanted more of a straight up rap album. I didn’t get that. Now I’m a bit upset that I did get the album. Maybe I’ll sell it to a high school girl by telling her it’s got Justin Timberlake all over it. I just need to make sure it really is a girl and not Chris Mathews from “To Catch A Predator” again. I’m really starting to hate that guy.

10 QUESTIONS WITH”¦ R. LEE ERMEY

You know, I have received a lot of pressure to do some interviews here at the site and, well, I gotta admit, I have DEFINITELY been entertaining the notion. Honestly, though? The thought of doing one makes me more nervous than a straight guy at a Scissor Sisters concert. I mean, what if I fuck something up or, even worse, ask some stupid, fucking questions? That would totally “Sanjaya””¦ by which I mean, “suck.” Fortunately, I have you, dear readers, and your never-ending stream of questions. So, what the fuck”¦ I’ll let you ask the questions and I’m going to let actor R. Lee Ermey give you the answers. Enjoy!

DarthBallSack24: One of my favorite bands is Bowling for Soup because they are from Texas and I am from Texas. Do you like Bowling for Soup? Do you like Pantera? If not, what band do you like?

R.L.E.: Holy dog shit! Texas! Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy, and you don’t look much like a steer to me, so that about narrows it down. Do you suck dicks? Are you a peter puffer?

Bobloblaw32: Hey, R. Lee”¦I’m going to be married soon and I was wondering if you had any advice for what song we should play for the father/daughter dance?

R.L.E.: Your days of finger bangin’ Mary Jane Rotten Crotch through her pretty pink panties are OVER!!!

LarrysLongCableGuy: R. Lee yo. R U In 2 Fall Out Boi?

R.L.E.: Did your parents have any kids that lived? Boy I bet they regret that. You’re so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece. What’s your name, scumbag? Lawrence? Lawrence of Arabia? That name sounds like royalty. You royalty? You suck dicks? I bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose! I don’t like the name Lawrence. Only F*****s and sailors are called Lawrence! From now on your name’s Private Pyle!

Mr_Nice_Gaius: Hey there, Mr. Ermey. Do you like R & B? I’ve always been partial to the smooth sounds of Macy Gray, myself.

R.L.E.: What’s your name, scumbag? From now on your name’s Private snowball. You like that name? Well, here’s one more thing you’ll like, Private Snowball. They don’t serve watermelon and fried chicken on a daily basis in my mess hall.

HalfVader03: Who would win in a fight between Clone Troopers, Star Fleet Academy or the Cylons?

R.L.E.: God has a hard on for Marines, because we kill everything we see. He plays His games, we play ours. To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls. God was here before the marine corps, so you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the corps!

BendersShinyAss: My dad says that Led Zeppelin is the best band ever but I think it’s Fall Out Boy. Which one of us is right?

R.L.E.: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who’s the slimy communist shit twinkle-toed cocksucker who just signed his own death warrant?

1PwN3DJ00: Dear Mr. Lee Ermey. Is it right to make fun of those less fortunate than ourselves? I mean I know this guy and he smells because his family can’t afford to pay the water bill. So I call him “Stinky Mike.” Seriously, he smells like poop. So anyway, is that cool, or should I stop?

R.L.E.: I bet you’re the kinda of guy to fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddamn common courtesy to give him a reach around!

“This is my rifle. There are many like it but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life.”

LeryJenkins2: Heya R. Lee, I’ve been thinking about converting to Buddhism. I’ve never really been into the whole Christian thing and I think those Buddhists have some really good ideas about life. What do you think?

R.L.E.: Why you little maggot, you make me want to vomit! You goddamned communist heathen, you had best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary, or I’m gonna stomp your guts out!

BillWestin76: Hey Mr. Ermey, I saw you in that movie. You know, the one where you played the gay guy. I thought that took a lot of guts.

R.L.E.: I’m gonna give you three seconds, exactly three fuckin’ seconds, to wipe that stupid lookin’ grin off your face or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull fuck you!

ICutMyself: Dear Mr. Ermey. I cut myself. It’s the only way that I can let the darkness out. It’s the only thing that makes me feel good besides the new album from Fall Out Boy. I know it’s wrong, but I cant stop. What should I do?

R.L.E: Were you born worthless, or did you have to work at it?

Real M.C.: Well, thanks for your time Mr. Ermey. Talk to you soon!

R.L.E.: Are you quitting on me?! Well, are you?! Then quit, you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off of my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! Now! Move it! I’m going to rip your balls off, so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!

UPCOMING RELEASES… 4/10/07

Well… there you have it folks. Until next week… keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!

Send your blow-up fuck sheep, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Happy Thursday, everybody and hang in there”¦the week’s almost over!!! Welcome again to my (by which, I mean, Mr. Smith’s) little slice of the “internets,” a slice that we like to call Music for the Masses. How ya’ll doing? Well, I hope. Me? Why, I’m doing better than Brittany or Lindsay in re-hab, by which I mean, I still have my hair, my skivvies and my dignity. However, I must admit, I am a bit concerned that my body appears to be rebelling against my latest bout of “partying” by taking this innocuous, seasonally-colored beverage”¦

Shane McGowan’s breakfast”¦ lunch”¦ dinner”¦ snack”¦

“¦converting it quickly to piss by a process I think the scientific community calls “piss-mosis,” and forcing my body to rapidly expel it in mighty, prolonged bursts like this…

Tell me the truth, friends”¦ do you think it’s a problem that I’m still pissing green almost a week after St. Patrick’s day? Seriously. I’m scarred about this colored, explosive piss-thing and a bit un-nerved that I’m getting solicitations, now, from the Bellagio in Vegas to be a part of their “Fountain Show©.” I’m even more un-nerved that I’m actually contemplating taking the gig. Well”¦whatever. Tell you this, though, and you can take it to the bank”¦ that is the LAST time I drink green beer on St. Patty’s day AND get serviced at a $10 Glory Hole in an inter-state truck stop.

But enough about all that, cherished friends, for we have some sweet new music to check out. This week, we have a review of the cheery new release from Modest Mouse, We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank, Double A checks in with the latest from Hieroglyphics and J.D. graces us with his presence.

Sound like fun? Well, hows about we find out?

Artist: Modest Mouse

Album: We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

Sounds Like: A band that I should have been paying a hell of a lot more attention to instead of surfing the net for nude pictures of Jodie Sweetin from Full House”¦after she grew up, you sick fucks.

I’m going to be perfectly honest with you people. Up until I sat down to whip up this “review,” I didn’t know a whole hell of a lot about Modest Mouse. Sure, I’d heard of them. I remember that song “Float On,” I remember hearing that the lead singer, Isaac Brock, is a shitty drunk and that the man-god, Johnny Marr, had joined the band. But outside of those meager details, I didn’t know jack shit about these guys. So”¦I did what any person in that position would do and broke out the computer for a little research. Four hours later, dehydrated and nursing a sore wrist from viewing Malaysian Monkey porn, I entered “Modest Mouse” in the old, faithful search engine and here’s what I learned:

For starters, did you know that you can get banned for life from Disney Land® for being an “Immodest Mouse?”

If you listen close enough, you can hear Walt’s head crying little, frozen tears.

How about fans of Eek-A-Mouse being almost twice as likely as other reggae fans to be caught boarding a plane with a baggie of Jamaican Haze shoved up their ass? Talk about some stinky bud!! HEY OH!!

Did you just pull dat weed out your ass, mon?

And, after chasing down some Mighty Mouse links for another idea I had, I discovered that I actually have a strong, sexual attraction to anthropomorphic mice chicks. Isn’t self-discovery fun?

“Here I Come”¦”

Don’t get me wrong, I mean I still love bustin’ nut to the Betty Rubbles and Kim Possibles of the cartoon world, but now, as far as I’m concerned, nothing, and I mean nothing, can beat (no pun intended) a smokin’ pair of hot little mouse titties.

Mmm, hmm”¦ that’s what I’m talking about. Now bend over and squeak for me.

Of course, I learned a bunch of shit about Modest Mouse, the Issaquah, Washington-based band that has been belting out alt rock since 1994 (See, learned that shit there, I did!), too, such as they have a distinct dislike for Dead Heads, Blender Magazine named them as one of the “25 Reasons to Love 2007” and Isaac Brock has a 3 nipples and an un-descended right testicle”¦okay, the last one came from some douche bag’s blog, so take it for what it’s worth. But, hands down, the most important thing I discovered about this band is that I absolutely LOVE this latest disc of theirs, We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank. Seriously. In fact, if it had a fuck-able orifice, I’d marry it. Let’s see them pull THAT quote and slap it on the front of the disc!

When Gap ads go bad.

The thing I like most about this new disc, that je ne sais quoi, if you will, is the unmistakable and prevailing “fuck you” attitude. Isaac Brock is one pissed off dude (at radio stations, the fans that called him a “sell-out” after the success of “Float On” and life, in general) and he wants you to know about it. That’s why it was such a brilliant move to bring in Johnny Marr to “lay down the happy” under Brock’s tortured, and mostly non-sensical lyrics. Hell, Marr was doing the same thing with Morrisey back when Brock was still pissing his Pampers® and sniffing glue behind the local Shop’n Go”¦ or something like that. Of course, it would have been nice to have something on this album that screams “Holy Statutory, Batman! That’s Johnny Marr!,” but that’s me just being a picky bitch.

Quirky and purposefully dense bands like Modest Mouse live and die by their ability to weave melodies and hooks into the bizarre tapestry of their music and, in that regard, Modest Mouse is living “high on the hog” with this disc. Case in point, the discs opener, “March Into The Sea,” starts as an off-kilter, jarring and bombastic romp but by the time the chorus hits, BAM!!…you have a nice little melody. 30 seconds later”¦ BAM!!… your back wading through shit. However, by the second track, with its Franz Ferdinand earnestness, Brock and gang hit their stride and string together some of the tightest, most interesting and entertaining tracks that I have heard on a disc since Kidz Bop 9. Way to go, kids!!! That mother fucker was off the hook!!!

The fact that albums like this exist is proof to me there is no God. This and Sanjaya from American Idol.

Again, there is not a weak track on this baby, but the album highlights for me are the tracks “Parting of the Sensory,” which sounds like it’s being sung by Mr. Garrison from South Park before devolving into an Irish folk stomp, the sure fire hit “Florida” that features some really cool backing vocals from the Shins James Mercer and the moody and slowly simmering “Little Motels.” This is a top shelf disc, folks, and I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and do a little more research on whether or not you get banned for life from Disney Land® for doing this”¦

In case you ever wondered why his voice is so high.

I’m going to confess something here, and I hope you all don’t get too upset. This album, Hieroglyphics Over Time, has absolutely nothing to do with the Wu-Tang Clan. I know, I was as shocked as you. Never fear though, next week I should be back with the brand new album from Redman, so you’ll be able to get your Tang fix then. Now, back to the subject at hand. Over Time was somewhat of a surprise to me, as I didn’t know that it was coming out. Hieroglyphics is a group of rappers that I really don’t know much about. I do know though that one of my favorite rappers, Del the Funky Homosapien, is a member of the group and that in and of itself was enough to get me excited about this album. I gotta admit, even though this isn’t a Wu-Tang project, this is a damn fine album. I do have a few gripes, but we’ll get into that a bit later.

For an album that is a B-sides/ unreleased/ remix collection, every song on this album is good, and I can honestly say that there are no tracks that I automatically reach for the “skip” button. The thing about Del, and the rest of the Hieroglyphics crew, is that the raps just seem smarter. You don’t get the typical raps about fuckin’ bitches and poppin’ caps in punk asses. I’m not saying that those are bad topics for rap songs, it’s just refreshing to hear something new and different. Del is one of the most original rappers out there, and he shows it on the rhymes that he spits on this album. Picking the best song on this album would be like trying to decide which one of your short and curly hairs to pluck out first. You don’t want to have to do it, so anyone you pick is just as good as the one next to it. Off the top of my head, if you’re looking to sample some songs from this album, I’d say give a listen to “Soundscience” from the Souls of Mischief and “Battle of the Shadow” from Del and APlus.

My one and only gripe for this album comes on the remix for the Del song “Phoney Phranchise.” The song itself is great and sounds a lot better than the original, but as I was listening to it I noticed something. The damn song is edited. What the fuck is up with that? I call bullshit. There is no reason that this song should be edited as every other fuck and shit on the album is there in its full, four letter glory. It just doesn’t make any sense to me.

It’s good to see a “new” release that includes Del, and this album only makes me want his long awaited cd 11^th Hour even more. Hopefully it will see release at some point this year. In the meantime, do yourself a favor and pick this album up.

Reverb… with J.D.

If you read last week’s MFTM, you know that MC called me on the proverbial carpet for leaving him hanging with no Reverb. It’s true, but I had a good excuse”¦involving booze and a blonde, buxom waitress who used to be a flight attendant for TWA. I’m not even kidding–T.W. F*ckin’ A!! So ultimately I called him up and said (in my best Spicoli voice) “Sorry, Mr. Hand, I just couldn’t make it to class.”

JD had a gnarly excuse for missing last week’s column

Now, chances are half of you don’t know who Spicoli is”¦or maybe even what TWA is for that matter. A reader who called himself only “N8 Dogg” wrote to me after my Patrick Swayze column saying, “Dude, cut it out with the 80’s references already. Nobody cares about your stupid nostalgia for that lame-ass decade.” And as much as that stung, I know that N8’s got a good point. These are the Double Oughts, after all! So just for him I started wearing my jeans around my ass with my hat cocked sideways, and I began experimenting with ‘cutting’ myself – to let out the pain, of course, but also to get in touch with today’s generation (As it turns out, cutting is actually a lot more fun, and less dangerous, than our 80’s release/pastime of hanging ourselves with a belt while masturbating…kids are just so much smarter these days!)

Catching Up With Modern Fashion

AND, to top it all off I recently went out and saw one of those ‘Modern Rock’ bands – Snow Patrol – that the youngsters love so much these days. When I first got the invite to go to this show, I got really excited because I thought it was Taylor Hicks’ band”¦talk about a chance to view the world through the eyes of a young hipster! Alas, as it turns out the name of that band is “Soul Patrol,” and my ‘American Idol’ aspirations were dashed.

Wrong Band Name, But This One’s Just For You, N8 Dogg

Nonetheless, I was still excited for the concert”¦.it was reportedly Sold Out that night, and at a cool venue here in Denver (The Fillmore Auditorium). Plus, I didn’t know any of their music and was eager to see what the fuss was all about, as well as to see the accompanying ‘scene.’ I must admit though, I was halfway anticipating a suck-a** show, based solely upon the band’s lame name. Because sometimes you can just tell that a band is a pukey, flash-in-the-pan just by their name, can’t you? Think “Fastball” for instance. You knew they were never going to have a hit again. Same with “Brad,” and more recently”¦”Fall Out Boy” (Anyone who disagrees with me regarding these last-mentioned douche bags, I’ll take $20 bets that they aren’t doing sh*t in five years. Who want’s some action??)

On Tour Now: Fall Out Boy, sponsored by Massengill!

Anyway, Snow Patrol met my expectations in some cases, and exceeded them in others. I figured the crowd would be amped for their hits, and disengaged during the rest of the filler. Which was essentially true”¦you could tell people were waiting around for the five or so ‘big’ songs by the band. But the weird thing was that the crowd was essentially disengaged even during the hit songs. For the duration of the show, there was very little dancing, fist pumping, or even palpable excitement shown by the crowd.

I also expected that most of the music would sound the same”¦the local ‘modern rock’ station that was promoting the show refers to itself as “Area 93.3” (ooooooooh”¦”¦radical!) and most of the sh*t they play sounds exactly the same. Heavy guitar riffs and trumped-up angst sung in monotone voices rule the airwaves”¦.it’s quite depressing. And while it’s true that most of Snow Patrol’s songs sounded exactly like the ones that preceded it, it was clear from the outset that this band has some real musical chops. In fact, a majority of the songs flat out rocked”¦which made the crowd’s lack of enthusiasm all the more puzzling.

When it was all said and done, I was glad to learn that I had generally underestimated Soul Patrol. They put on a solid show, if not one that I would necessarily clamor to see again. But all in all, it was a nice foray into the younger generation’s scene. So thanks for having me, kids! I’d stick around, but I’ve got to get going now. I’ve got a double date tonight”¦with a TWA stewardess and a belt.

Autoerotic Asphyxiation: It’s Not for Kids!

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

NEW MUSIC RELEASES”¦ 3/27/07

Well, there you have it, my friends. Have a good one and we’ll see you next week. Until then, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!!

Send photos of your favorite cartoon babe, review copies, assorted hate mail and sundry presents to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Welcome, my friends, to another steamin’ pile of Music for the Masses. How the hell are ya’? Doing well, I hope. Of course, when people ask ME that question, I just say that I’m “hangin’ loose, full of juice and ready for use” because a) it’s true and b) I’m what some might call “a dude.” Now, if you’re not “a dude,” I would caution you against the use of this greeting. Trust me on this one”¦ it sounds creepy coming from a girl. Kind of implies you just got done with Kobe “The First 8 Inches Were Consensual” Bryant, slam dunked Shaq and are looking to complete the hat trick by having me toss my “hot dog” down your well-traveled hallway. Know what I’m saying? Like they say in those Verizon commercials”¦ “Can you hear me know? However, to keep it fair, ladies, I’m going to give you your own snappy greeting. So, next time somebody asks “how the hell you’re doing?,” fire back with something classy like “I’ve got it tucked tight, outta sight, so buy me more drinks if you want to see it tonight.” Shhh”¦ I know. You’re welcome.

No”¦ the statute of limitations on “Kobe Jokes” is not “up.” Sorry.

But enough about all that, my friends, for we have a couple of choice selections to check out today. That’s right, our proverbial plate is piled high this week with a huge, tasty slice of ShitDisco and, thanks to Double A, a big-ass portion of Fratellis, ladled with love and a gentle hand. Oh yeah, and for dessert, J.D. serves up”¦well, not a goddamned thing. Thanks, J.D.!! So, in his place, I’m running a picture of J.D. in his “tight pants,” a picture of him having sex and a recipe for homemade bolgna. Sound like fun? Well, how’s about we find out?

Artist: ShitDisco

Album: Kingdom of Fear

Sounds Like: A bunch of kids waving glow sticks while “trancing” to Franz Ferdinand.

I’m not sure if any of you have ever been in a band, but believe me when I tell you that, hands down, one of the most FRUSTRATING parts about being in “THE BAND” is naming the goddamned thing. Sure”¦it sounds easy, I know. But, inevitably, you’ll have one guy in the band, more than likely that damn drummer, who’s not on the same page as the rest of you and will torpedo ideas faster than you can bury Anna Nicole”¦umm, wait a minute. Scratch that one. Bad analogy. Whatever.

What I’m trying to say is, naming a band is tough. And not for lack of trying. See, I’m the kind of guy that is continually thinking up band names, even during the most mundane of tasks, and believe me when I tell you that I’m giving these guys fucking gold on a daily basis. Don’t believe me? Allow me to illustrate. Just the other day, as I was getting serviced by a hook”¦I mean, my girlfriend”¦I thought it would be cool to name the band either “Jack MayOff and the Gentle Rubs,” “Knob Goblin” or “Sperm Burglar.” Later, as I was taking a shit and reading the latest issues of “Jumbo Jugs,” I thought to myself, “hey, self, how about we name the band ‘Turtlin’ or, even better, ‘Droppin’ Dueces?’” For fuck’s sake, people, I can even get solicited by the Special Olympics (thanks for the mailing labels, guys!!) and came up with smokin’ band names like “Special Ed and the High Fives,” “I’m With Stoopid,” “The Glee Club” and “Helmet Head and the Puddin’ Packs.” See? Like I said, solid fucking gold. Of course, my band won’t use any of these but $20 I just gave names to next year’s Grammy winners. “And the award for best new artist goes to”¦I’m so nervous”¦The Glee Club!!”

That could have been me there in the back”¦ second from the left”¦ apparently with my thumbs up the asses of the guys in front.

But alas, that drumstick wielding bastard wants something that’s “family friendly,” “marketable” and “looks good on a marquis” and generally hates everything that I come up with. Go figure. Yeah, whatever pal. I have one word for you”¦ShitDisco.

ShitDisco, attempting to “swirl” the world’s largest glow stick.

No, not as a name for our band. You see, ShitDisco is already the name of a band and they are the hottest thing to come out of Glasgow since Franz Ferdinand and, umm, single malt scotch which, I don’t care what anybody says, tastes like gasoline poured over charcoal. But I digress. ShitDisco also pretty much shoots my drummer’s naming notions right in the ass.

Darlings of the Glasgow house-party/rave scene, ShitDisco is a fun, little band that deftly combines their various influences (disco, punk, pop and funk ) into a cheeky, energetic and confident assortment of tunes. Their U.S. debut, Kingdom of Fear, which features the groups U.K. singles and a handful of new tracks, is packed with hook-heavy songs, vigorous and angular guitar riffs, disco-influenced drums and intriguing tempo shifts. If you are looking for an approximation of the sound here, think Franz Ferdinand meets The Talking Heads. Hey”¦fuck off”¦I said “approximation.” Jeez.

The entertaining-to-annoying ratio on this disc definitely favors the entertaining, but be forewarned that the album looses steam as it goes. The one notable exception being the second-to-last track, the buzzing, Devo-esque “OK.” Other disc highlights include the U.K. quasi-hits “Disco Blood,” “Kung Fu,” “Reactor Party” and, for me at least, the bombastic, staccato attack of “72 Virgins.” Overall, I found this music kind of hard to wave a glow stick to while I was all hopped up on X, but it’s still a damn good time and if this is what those English and Scottish kids are “raving” to now, bully for them because this is some damn good shit.

But don’t take my word for it. Hop on over and check out a couple of ShitDisco’s better tracks at www.myspace.com/shitdisco. Now, if you’ll excuse me”¦I have to go practice with my band”¦The Bald Brittany’s.

Yikes! It appears that Billy Corgan has REALLY let himself go.

Let’s start with a little quiz, shall we?

The Fratellis are:

A) Double A’s favorite new rap group consisting of members of The Wu-Tang Clan and The Wiggles.

B) Some Scottish band who has been around for a few years but is finally making the jump to the States via an iPod commercial.

C) A damn fine pizza place in my home town.

D) A sexual maneuver requiring a tub of raw cookie dough, a slotted spoon, three “little people” and a bottle of 1000 Island Dressing.

If you said B you are correct. If you said C, you are half right (the pizza place is called Fratelli Brothers) and if you guessed A or D, you’ve been reading my diary and I’d appreciate it if you would stop. If you guessed E) The bad guys from the movie Goonies, you get 15 extra dork points.

As I said, The Fratellis are a band from Scotland who originally released the album Costello Music in September of last year. The only problem with this release was that it was only available “across the pond,” as those uptight Brits like to call it. But then a funny thing happened. In January, those crazy kids at Apple decided to use the band’s song “Flathead” in their new iPod commercial. The song took off, as did the popularity of the band. Now, a scant six months after its initial release, Costello Music is finally available here in the states. And I gotta tell you, this is one of the finest albums I’ve picked up in a long time. Fo’ Shizzle.

The thing that makes this album so damn good is that it is full of energy. If you were to twist my arm, or promise me a box of cookies, I’d say that these guys sound a bit like the Artic Monkeys, but have even more of a frantic, “punk-esque” quality to them. Every song on this album is great and gets you moving, it doesn’t hurt that most of the songs also have great hooks in them, as evident in the first two singles “Flathead” and “Chelsea Dagger.” But the songs don’t rely on the hooks to be good, as some bands think they should.

Costello Music is a damn fine album and I heartily recommend it to anyone who likes music. Unless you like country music. Or death metal. Or rap. Or blues. Ok, let me put this another way. If you like good, high tempo rock/punk music pick this album up. It is well worth the time and money spent. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a couple of “friends” coming over and I need to get the dressing to room temperature. Peace out.

Reverb… with J.D.

Since J.D. is pulling a “Studio 60,” or, if you prefer, a “no-show” this week, I thought that I would “save his place” by posting a picture of a hot chick and J.D. wearing a pair of what I will call, for lack of a better term, his Lance “BassMaster’s””¦ because, they”¦ umm, look like jeans you’d wear when you’re “fishin’ for dudes””¦

That’s it, J.D.!! Wiggle the worm!! WIGGLE the worm!!!

I also thought that it might be nice if you folks at home got a seldom-seen peek at J.D.’s “home life.” So, here’s a picture of J.D. and the “missus” playing a game of “Bury the Bone”¦”

And, because you are OBVIOUSLY bored enough to have read this far, I thought you might enjoy a recipe for homemade bologna”¦

Homemade Bologna

Description:

Beef bologna with a delightful garlic and smoke flavor

Yield: 2 rolls/3 lbs

Ingredients:

3 pounds ground chuck (80% lean)
3 Tablespoons Morton’s Tender Quick
1 Cup water
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1 1/2 teaspoons Liquid Smoke

Instructions:

1. Combine all ingredients and mix well.

2. Roll into two logs. Wrap in plastic wrap and put in refrigerator for 24 hours.

3. Remove plastic wrap and place logs on greased pan. Bake for ½ hour at 300 degrees Fahrenheit and then 2 ½ hours at 200 degrees Fahrenheit.

4. Allow to cool; store in refrigerator. Slice with sharp knife to desired thickness. Serve with cheese and crackers, or on a sandwich.

Preparation Time: 15 minutes

Cooking Time: 3 hours

TRY IT!!! IT’S J.D.elicious!!!!!

NEW MUSIC RELEASES”¦ 3/20/07

Well, there you have it, my friends. Sorry for the “shortie,” but please be sure to tune in next week as we check in with the latest from Modest Mouse amongst other things. So, until next week, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!!

Send your Amish Bologna recipes, review copies, assorted hate mail and sundry presents to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hey everybody!! Well, I was planning on keeping things shorter than Britney’s hair this week because my parole”¦ I mean, my”¦ umm, boss has me pickin’ up all kinds of stuff and I didn’t have a whole lotta time to chit chat. But that was before J.D. and Double A sent in their stuff. So, as a result, we are filled to the brim with goodness this week as I spend some time tying up loose ends, so to speak, by paying a long overdue visit to an old friend of Quick Stop, Mr. Neil Innes, and reviewing some recent concerts in traditional Hiaku. Plus, J.D. drops by with a huge slice of 80’s cheese and Double A checks in with the latest from the Wisemen. So, what do you say? You ready to have a wee bit o’ fun? How’s about we find out?

Loose Ends #1: An Album You Should Check Out…

Neil Innes

Album: Works In Progress

Sounds like: Mark Knopfler singing the tunes of Paul Simon while jacked up on some whacky, hybrid mix of LSD, MDMA and carpet cleaner.

Now, I don’t usually open up like this, but I’m going to tell you folks something that I wouldn’t normally share with the common folk. However, considering that we are “tight n’ shit” and that I love each and every one of you more than Oscar-After-Party-No-Show Eddie Murphy loves a hooker with nuts, I thought I’d share a personal tid-bit about myself”¦

Holy crap, Eddie! You can see “her” “Klump!”

I have a man-crush. Now, I’m sure many of you are out there, right now, saying to yourself, “Well, yeah, M.C., I have a man-crush on [INSERT SPORTS FIGURE, NIGHTLY NEWS ANCHOR, DATELINE’S CHRIS HANSEN, JALEEL WHITE, WIFE’S CO-WORKER’S REALLY-HOT HUSBAND HERE], too. Big deal.” Yeah, well, the big deal is that I’ve never had one of these before and honestly? I’m scared. In fact, I haven’t been this scared since Tom Cruise called down the wrath of Xenu on my head for calling him a “silly-little, couch-bouncin,’ fruity-bitch©.”

“Hey Oprah!! Here’s the face I make as Katie thumbs my butt. EEEEEE!!!!”

But honestly, I felt that it was time to come clean about my huge-honkin’, wicked-ass case of man-love for Neil Innes. Of course, I’m not talking the kind of “man-love” where Neil and I spoon on the bed, watching Will & Grace and humming “How Deep Is Your Love?” as we cup each others junk in a gentle embrace. Au contraire, mon ami. This is the kind of man-love that comes out of a deep appreciation for and respect of a man’s work”¦ and besides, umm, he looks TOTALLY hot in jeans, but I digress. Now, for those of you sitting at work/home right now going “who in the hell is this Neil Innes guy anyway?,” well, I’m afraid that I’m going to defer to Quick Stop’s EIC, Mr. Kenneth “Boom Boom” Plume, who did one hell of a bang up job telling you just “who in the hell this Neil guy is, anyway” right here.

Nope. Sorry. I can’t tell you much more about Neil’s storied past over and above what Ken wrote, basically because my knowledge of that past is “sketchy at best,” but I can tell you what I think of his ‘new” disc, Work In Progress. In a word, it’s fucking brilliant. Okay”¦ that was two words. Screw you. Make you feel special always correcting people? Fucker. But seriously, though, this is truly an amazing disc and, I would wager, a bit surprising. You see, considering that the man has spent a good portion of his career lampooning the Beatles, crafting tunes for Python and exploring the depths of Dada-infused jazz with the Bonzo Dog Dada Band, it is surprising to me to hear this exceptionally talented man veer away from spot-on parody, humor and the “all over the board,” trip-adelic jazz of past discs and embrace the more subtle and moody side of his melodic songwriting ability. Sure, the disc still hints at the whimsical and absurd, but this is much more of a “serious” affair and there is an undercurrent running through these tracks that is introspective, poignant, sharp and, at times, cutting.

This entire disc is an aural treat, but the stand out tracks for this reviewer include the subtle balladry of “All Alone,” “Charlie (“Who gives a fuck about who shuts the fuck up?”) Big Potatoes,” the world-music infused “One Of These People” (which sounds like Innes singing with Johnny Clegg and Savuka) and the romping and cheeky polka of “Eye Candy.” Truly a treat, folks. Give it a spin and behold the man-love incurring glory of Mr. Neil Innes!!

LOOSE ENDS #2″¦ CONCERT REVIEWS”¦

One of the “perks” related to being a “music reviewer” is the ability to see numerous live shows as various “bands” stagger and swagger through my cow-state in search of villages to plunder, virgins to de-flower and copious amounts of beer to drink. In the past week and a half, I caught three, count them, three, live acts here in our fair city. Rather than write up some boring-ass reviews of each show, I thought it would be more fun (read: EASIER) to do the concert reviews in Hiaku, the ancient Japanese poetic form. Now, for those of you “not in the know,” Haiku is, according to the lazy-college-student-handbook, or, as I like to call it, Wikipedia:

“a mode of Japanese poetry, the late 19th century revision by Masaoka Shiki of the older hokku (発句, hokku^?), the opening verse of a linked verse form, haikai no renga. The traditional hokku consisted of a pattern of approximately 5, 7, 5 on. The Japanese word on, meaning “sound”, corresponds to a mora, a phonetic unit similar but not identical to the syllable of a language such as English.”

Yeah. Whatever. Well, without further ado, here are my concert reviews and please”¦feel free to count along with the syllables:

The Shins @ The Fillmore

A winter’s wet dream,

Pansy rockers came to town.

Album great!! Show? Blew.

Glen Phillips (former lead singer of Toad the Wet Sprocket) @ The Soiled Dove

Glen, you dopey “˜tard.

Why’d you leave that kickin’ band?

Your new tunes bore me.

Blue October @ The Ogden

Crazy Ass Fucker,

Your new disc gave me a bone.

Your concert? HUGE bone!!

When I first heard about this album, it was hyped as Think Differently Music Presents: Wisemen Approaching. That in itself was enough to get me to pick up this album. See, if you don’t know, Think Differently Music is the brainchild of Bronze Nazarath, who coincidently is one of the 4 members of Wisemen. In 2005, Think Differently Music released one of the best hip hop albums in the last few years with Wu-Tang Meets Indie Culture. This album combined Wu-Tang Clan members with stars of the underground scene such as MF Doom, Del Tha Funky Homosapeien and Aesop Rock. This was a GREAT album, which led to my interest in this particular Wisemen CD. But something strange happened when I actually picked up this new album. Nowhere on it does it even mention Think Differently Music. “Odd,” me thought. That little fact really has nothing to do with this review. I just need to waste space. Is this space fully wasted? Good, now we can move on.

Now, Wisemen Approaching isn’t a bad album, but it falls into the same trap that a lot of recent releases. It’s fairly boring. Taking each song and listening to it on it’s own the songs are good, but taken as a whole, the album kind of drones on. Out of all the tunes, the track “Associated” breaks up the monotony of the rest of the album. “Associated,” featuring the Wu-Tangs own GZA is a great track. The beats are good and the raps come out fast and crisp. The song just has an energy to it that isn’t reflected on the rest of the album. The other songs all use a very mellow beat with a slow drawl for the vocals. Like I said, this is fine on a song for song basis, but over the whole album, it gets a little repetitive. Aside from “Associated” nothing on this album just out at me as says “listen, fat ass. This is some good music. Now go get me some cookies.”

Mmm… cookies… and diet soda!!!!

Wisemen Approaching isn”t a bad album, but it is far from the near perfection that was Wu-Tang Meets Indie Culture. Hopefully Bronze Nazareth will get things back on track with the next album. I’m not upset about picking this album up, but I could have been a lot happier. Now all I gotta do is waste a little more space because otherwise, M.C. gets crazier than Brittany with a Flowbee®. So, um, crazy weather we’re having, eh? How ’bout them Mets? Um, well, that’s all I got, so I’m going to go grab me some of those aforementioned cookies.

Reverb… with J.D.

Recently I got to talking with a friend of mine about baby clothes; she was excited because she had just picked up a onesie for her niece that said “Nobody Puts Baby In a Corner.” (For you youngsters out there, that was Patrick Swayze’s signature line in the 1980s cheese-movie Dirty Dancing. If you haven’t seen it yet, just sit on the couch for 12 hours and start flipping through channels”¦you’ll come across it).

Baby clothes: Not as boring to talk about as you might think

This little bit of awesomeness got me to thinking about Swayze. If I were to name the greatest cheesy movies of the 80’s (a decade LUSH in cultural cheese) the first three that instantly come to mind are 1) Urban Cowboy (my favorite movie of all-time), 2) Road House, and 3) Dirty Dancing. Not only does Swayze star in two of those, but a little bit of digging on imdb.com reveals that his wife and mother (Lisa Niemi and Patsy Swayze) choreographed the dance sequences in Urban Cowboy.

Wow! That’s almost too much information to process. Throw in Red Dawn, Uncommon Valor, and Ghost, and you can make an airtight case that Swayze was–for a decade at least, but maybe for all-time–the undisputed King of So-Bad-They’re-Good movies.

Dancer, Bouncer, Dead Guy: Versatile enough to suck in almost any role.

(Of course, he subsequently pushed his luck and made To Wong Foo, Something Something, Julie Newmar, a movie that nobody watched, and for which the soundtrack likely included “Taps” (to mark the end of his acting career). But considering that he hasn’t been seen since then, doesn’t now seem like a good time for Quentin Tarantino to cast him in something?)

Anyway, you might be wondering ‘Hey jacka**”¦where’s the music? WHERE’S THE F*****G MUSIC?????? (I just love it when you guys utilize the ’email the author’ button at the bottom of the column. No, really. Always brightens my day.) Well lest you forget, old Pat tried to parlay his superstar status into a singing gig, even contributing an original song to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.

Swayze was neither the first nor, lamentably, the last actor to try to cross-pollinate success in Hollywood with rock stardom. It happens all too frequently, and it NEVER turns out well.

Are you listening, Johnny Depp? NEVER!!

In what other industry does rousing success inspire the idea that equal success will follow by jumping into another field? Does a football coach switch gears and apply for the basketball coaching job? Does a stripper look at a prostitute and think, ‘Hey! I could do that!’? (Okay, bad example”¦but you get the point).

On the bright side, these forays–while musical disasters–often result in superb comedy. Here then are five fantastic examples of actors making the dubious leap. Click on the song title for links to videos of each–you won’t be disappointed! In fact, they all fall into the Swayze category”¦.so SOOOO bad, they’re good.

Let’s kick it off with the master himself:

Patrick Swayze

She’s Like The Wind

Highlight: Definitely the first line of the song: “She’s like the wind”¦.through my tree.” Pure poetry!

Eddie Murphy

Party all the time

Highlight: Tie–Rick James rocks Whitney Houston’s hairdo from the same time period and Eddie’s chorus sounds like he’s singing “My girl wants to potty all the time, potty all the time, potty all the tiiiiiiime.” Why can’t Flomax use this song in a marketing campaign?

Mr. T

Treat Your Mother Right

Highlight: Either the remarkably unsexy backup dancers, or Mr. T’s very sexy shorts. (However, the outstanding opening segue also deserves mention: Dissing on each other? No problem. Dissing on someone’s mother? T steps in!).

Juliette Lewis

Hot Kiss

Highlight: The fact that you get the sense that this is EXACTLY what Lewis is like in real life.

David Hasselhoff

Jump In My Car

Highlight: Too many to mention. Quite possibly the hands-down winner of the title “Greatest Video of All-Time.” Remember earlier when I said that the actor’s foray into music never turns out well? I stand corrected. This is everything you’d want a David Hasselhoff video to be, and more.

Rappers got it all wrong. “Ghost like Swayze?” Pshaw!!!

Don’t Hassel the Hoff!!

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

UPCOMING RELEASES”¦ 3/6/07

Well, there you have it friends… another notch on the bed post. Until next week, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send pictures of your man-crush, review copies, hate mail and assorted presents to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hello, friends, and welcome back to Music for the Masses or, as I like to call it, “Sex for your Eyes and Ears ©.” This week, we bang heads with the upcoming release, Alpha, from SevenDust, my uncle Nigel reviews the latest from Bloc Party and Double A “Razah’s” some hell with”¦umm”¦Hell Razah. Sound like fun? Well…as per usual…what do you say we find out?

Sevendust

Album: Alpha

Sounds like: The inner soundtrack Brittany had playing in her head while she shaved her melon to match her va-jay.

I’ll admit”¦there are few things that I can say with absolute authority, but believe me when I tell you this is one of them…heavy metal music is NOT the music of seduction. I’m serious. Trust me on this one, kids. You can light all the candles you want, spritz a little “smell good” on your junk and drop rose petals on the bed to get your lady in the mood, but if you decide to throw on a little Sepultura as your “Music to Fuck To,” there ain’t a chick alive that’ll let you pile drive her”¦I don’t care HOW much you’ve paid her.

LaTisha DOES NOT like Sepultura… I have the bruises to prove it.

You see, it appears that most ladies, by which I mean those without SERIOUS “daddy issues,” don’t dig the “heavy metal.” I know. Go figure!! But apparently it has something to do with being “too aggressive, “too loud” and “BLAH BLAH BLAH”¦for their tastes.” Whatever. Honestly? I totally just tuned out and kicked on Sports Center. But seriously”¦chicks, honeys, babies”¦I can’t relate to why you don’t dig metal. After all, haven’t you ever wanted to get psyched up for something? You can’t HONESTLY tell me you’ve never had a big game where you needed to squeeze a little extra juice in the tank, can you? Hmm? Never tried to get your Tri-Delt sisters jazzed up to knock over the local scrap-booking store? No? Never thought about driving 900 miles wearing nothing but a diaper to have a little chat with your make-believe boyfriend’s actual girlfriend? AH! See. . .NOW I got you thinking…

“I swear, your honor, I was just going to use the mallet to knock the pepper spray out of her eyes.”

But here’s the kicker, ladies, if you’re shunning metal merely because you view it as “dude-centric©,” you shun the chance of stumbling upon a great, fist-pumping disc like Sevendust’s sixth studio release, Alpha. Again, you like that segue? Took a while, but we got there, baby. We got there. Damn straight.

For you fans of the band, and you know who you are, you’ll be happy to know that Alpha marks a return to “nut punching” form, so to speak, for Atlanta’s Sevendust. If you’ve lost touch with this band over the last couple of”¦umm…albums, you might be a bit discouraged to hear that the band is still focusing on melody above all else. However, this time out, that melody has been tempered with an aggressive instrumentation that hasn’t been heard since the band’s earliest works. Put it this way, Alpha sounds as if it could have easily been the follow-up to the band’s first, self-titled disc”¦not it’s sixth studio release. And no, chuckle nuts, I don’t mean that in a bad way. In fact, congratulations, gentlemen! I’m putting you back into my nightly prayers. Yep. Each and every night, from here on out, before I go off to bed/pleasure myself to the local weather lady, I’m going to say a prayer to the baby Jesus and thank him for metal bands like you.

Kathy Sabine: local weather lady and post-masturbatory sleep aid.

The guitar interplay between old-pro John Connolly and relative-newcomer Sonny Mayo was impressive on the last disc, but here, it is both subtle and forceful. Furthermore, singer Lajon Witherspoon addresses each track with a vocal attack that is nothing short of impressive. Couple these elements with the solid rhythmical performances of drummer/vocalist Morgan Rose and bassist Vince Hornsby and you have yourself one, tight, driving and damn impressive disc. For those of you taking notes, personal favorites here include the melodic assault of “Under,” the slowly-building intensity of “Feed” and the raucous romp of ‘Suffer.” Check out the tracks “Driven” and the George Lucas-loving “Deathstar” over at their MySpace page now!

Seriously, friends, if you want to explore some new, ass-lick”¦I mean, kicking, metal that doesn’t sound like it’s being sung by Linda Blair in the “Excorcist,” post possession, then, maybe, JUST maybe, this is the album for you. Again, check out that MySpace link up there and see if it tickles your ‘taint. If you are sitting there right now thinking “Ewww, metal!!” or “Linda who?,” well then, I’m afraid that I’m just going to have to ask you to kindly”¦

Alpha hits stores on March 6^th.

I know absolutely nothing about the artist Hell Razah. Nothing. Well, that’s not completely true. I do know that he had a song on the Wu-Tang album I reviewed last week. But that’s about it. Oh yeah, and I do know that the song he contributed to the aforementioned Wu-Tang album, “Masked Avengers,” was one of the weakest tracks on the disc. So why did I pick up an entire album buy this guy? I don’t know. Call it a sick pleasure. You know, it’s like when you see a fat girl, or guy, bend over and you see the crack of their ass. You don’t want to look, but you can’t help it. Sometimes the temptation is just too damn strong. Thats why I picked up this album. And besides, M.C. asked me to review something. Fucker.

Hell Razah’s album The Renaissance Child is not a good album despite the fact that it had such promise. I’m of the mind that the Wu-Tang Clan know what they are doing, and when they endorse an artist, that artist should be pretty good. And when on your first solo CD you bring in the likes of Talib Kweli and MF Doom, that says something to me. It says “Double A, two of your favorite rappers signed on for this project, it’s gotta be good. Now, go get me some cookies.” But alas, the whole album falls short. But it isn’t for lack of trying. Hell Razah actually has a good voice and a great flow. He just needs a little help with the lyrics and the beats.

There are a few bright spots on this album, specifically “Project Jazz” which features Kweli and Viktor Vaughn (MF Doom) and is produced by Doom. This song is outstanding. I would even be so inclined to throw out the word fan-fucking-tastic to describe it. But, of course, I may be a little biased as every song I’ve heard that Doom has had a hand in I think is great. Another good song is “Smoking Gunnz.”

Like I said, this album isn’t that great but there are a few songs here and there that are ok, and one that is outstanding. What this album does do is show is a LOT of potential in our little Hell Razah. He’s in the big time now, and he can only get better.

REVIEWS BY…

Sir Nigel Tufgren Bell, esq.
Englishman

Well it’s about bloody time that blinkered sod M.C. got off his arse and asked me to do a review for him. Let’s face it, everyone knows that we Brits have the best taste in music out of all the people on this planet. Where did the Beatles come from? Bloody right, England. I could go on, naming all of the ace groups to come out of England but you Yanks wouldn’t know half of them. Barbarians, I say! I thank God, the C and E and the Queen Mother daily that you lot are no longer one of our colonies!

American music is complete bollocks. Pants. Makes me right dicky, Except, of course, for that Carrie Underwood. What a fit bird, cor blimey!! Course, I’d tell her right off to belt up if she fancies a bang, but, ahh, what I would do to her fanny! Then I’d flip her arse over tits and Bob’s your uncle!

But I’m not here to chin wag about Miss Underwood’s pleasures or your soddin’ music. I’m here to waffle about Bloc Party’s newest CD, A Weekend In The City. All I’ve got to say about this disc is it’s bloody epic! Kicked me right in the goolies, it did. These lads from East London are ace and A Weekend In The City is easily one of the most smashing CDs released so far this year. And no, I haven’t gone potty.

In fact, I had a butchers at these guys a year or so ago at the Lyric and they were cracking. The show was the dog’s bollocks! The sound was stonking, the crowd was full of beans and I was chuffed that the boys closed the show with “Helicopter” from their first CD. And the best part was I got totally pissed and barely made it back to my flat before I honked.

As I said, this CD is blinding. Luvvly-jubbly. The lads had the bottle to expand their sound, away from the carriage house feel of their first disc. They added some orchestration, synths and even a little chorus for those benders out there and the whole thing could easily have gone pear shaped. But it didn’t. The song “Uniform” is pukka and is my absolute fave. However, there are no downers to this CD; the whole thing is brill.

All that said, you Yanks won’t shine to it because you’re all off your trolley. But I won’t hold it against you. Now, I WOULD fancy holding me todger against Miss Underwood”¦ but that is a tale for another day. So, if you’re ever in England, give us a bell but right now I need to go spend a penny. God save the Queen!!

Rating: 5 out of 5

UPCOMING RELEASES”¦ 2/27/07

Well, there you have it friends… another one in the bank. Until next week, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send pictures of your local weather lady, review copies, hate mail and assorted presents to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Guten Morgen sehr geehrte Damen und Herren! Welcome back to another edition of Music for the Masses. Now, before we begin, I’d like to announce to you all that… umm, I think I might be the father of Anna Nicole’s baby. Seriously. I mean, who’s to say that Anna Nicole didn’t sneak into my room one night, accidentally trip and land twat-down on my “Maria Sharapova/Kate Beckinsale/Lindsay Lohan” sock that I keep next to my bed?

Tennis hasn’t been THIS sexy since Boris Becker retired.

The Cat Empire

Album: Two Shoes
Sounds like: Two Cats fuckin’… a skinny, funky-smelling latin one and a nappy-looking, pot-smoking rasta cat.

Seriously… I’m not joking when I tell you that I fucking (yes, I just typed “fucking”) hate cats. I always have. There really is no “defining” moment here and no, “I’m not allergic” which is really just code for “I hate your fucking (yes, I just typed “fucking”) cat.” Why do I hate these creatures of the night/pure evil? Hmmm… interesting question. You know, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I CAN tell you that the loathing started after I first witnessed, at a tender young age, the way a cat can make it’s butthole “wink” as it walks out of a room. I’m convinced that’s a cat’s way of saying “fuck you” and, besides, it’s “Creepy” with a capitol “K.” What??!! Oh… come on now, don’t “pretend” you’ve never seen a kitty’s “stinkin’, blinkin’ balloon knot. “That’s like telling your girlfriend/wife/mom that “you’ve never jacked off.” Remember kids… Satan and Anna Nicole are reserving a special place in hell for liars.

Whatever. But as much as I may hate these corn-hole flaunting little bastards, (no, silly… not Satan or Anna Nicole…the cats!!) I can honestly tell you that I have never been compelled to exact revenge on one… unlike my buddy Tom. But more on that in a minute. First, we have to exact revenge on ANOTHER type of cat… The Cat Empire. How’s that for a segue? Slicker than shit through a goose, eh?

The Cat Empire

Sooo… as the minority of you heard on last week’s pod cast, the U.S. debut of Australia’s very own and EXTRAORDINARILY successful, The Cat Empire, dropped last week and was, without a doubt, one of the new releases in February (or as my retarded cousin likes to call it… “HNNNNGGGHHH”) that I was greatly looking forward to. “So,” I’m sure you’re asking, “how did Two Shoes fair, M.C.?” Well, my fine young cannibals… I’m glad you asked.

The Cat Power

Two Shoes is, without a doubt, one of the most uneven and disappointing discs I’ve heard in quite some time. There are some exceptionally melodic and endearing moments here, as well as some groovy beats and rhythms, but nothing on this new disc comes close to being as infectious as the band’s first hit, 2003’s “Hello.” Consistent with their previous outings, the music on Two Shoes is an enthusiastic combination of ska, funk, latin, humor and hip hop, and again, The Cat Empire gets high marks for “mixing things up.” However, the combination of “mixing things up,” typically tired, British reggae-affectations, odd time signatures and Felix Riebl’s mediocre vocals (see “In My Pocket,” “Lullaby” and “Saltwater”) proves more toxic than intriguing on this particular outing.

The Cat Stevens

If you are looking for a silver lining here, the six piece PLUS ensemble (featuring Oliver McGill on keyboards, Riebl on drums/vocals, Ryan Monroe on double bass, Harry James Angus on trumpet, Will Hull-Brown on drums, DJ Jamshid “Jumps” Khadiwala and various other horn players, dancers and guests) does offer up a few outstanding tracks, specifically, the album opener “Sly,” “The Car Song” and the Santana-esque “Sol Y Sombra.””Unfortunately, the majority of the tracks come off sounding like muddled outtakes from a Sublime recording session, pre-Brad Nowell’s-untimely-heroin-overdose. If you are looking for unique, especially in the realm of latin/reggae fusion, The Cat Empire’s Two Shoes is ABSOLUTELY your disc. Ummm. . .emphasis on “unique” there. If you are looking for “time-less” and “ultimately listenable” ska in the vein of a Tosh or a Marley or hell, even a Sublime, skip this fucker like an episode of “Studio 60.”

So, as I was saying before we were so RUDELY interrupted, my buddy Tom had an asshole roommate in college who had an even bigger asshole of a cat. According to Tom, the cat was “just a dick,” assuming cats can be such things, and had taken up the nasty habit of pissing in, on and around Tom’s room/things. Ever smell cat piss? Yeah, well, understandably, this didn’t sit well with my buddy Tom.

Even the cat couldn’t stand the smell of it’s own piss…

So, after cleaning up after the hairy little fucker for the umpteenth time and realizing that no level of Febreeze® was going to remove this special brand of “pussy stank,” Tom decided that it was time for the cat’s owner to do “a little cleaning up.” So, without further ado, my pal dropped trough and took a mighty shit in the cat’s litter box. Now, this part of the story is merely conjecture, but I’m guessing that the entire time, Tom is thinking “yeah buddy… scoop THIS up with your little, slotted spatula!!”

But Tom wasn’t done for, as many of you may or may not know, after dropping a nutty, fat kid into the cat’s pool, one is in need of a wipe. And THAT is EXACTLY what Tom did… with his roommate’s “face only” towel… using a hearty, front-to-back/back-to-front sawing motion…before refolding the towel neatly on the rack to hide the offending stain. Now, I’m not sure what happened with that towel, but I do know the roommate entered the abode and spied that mighty loaf perched atop the mound of TidyCat®; never ONCE suspecting it was human fecal mater in his kitty shitter. And, much to Tom’s chagrin, the roommate did not immediately pluck that gargantuan turd out of the box with the afore-mentioned slotted spatula and vow to amend his ways.

On the contrary, the roommate screamed like a chick, sobbed hysterically and whisked the cat off to an emergency vet clinic. Now, in all fairness to this clown, if I had a cat and I saw a mythically-sized turd wedged in it’s box, I’m not sure I’d immediately think, “Hey… somebody shit in my cat box. No fair! Oh well, I guess I’ll scoop it up and keep a better eye on the cat!” but I guess we’ll never know. I’ll tell you this, though, where I, too, would have most likely assumed that there was something tragically wrong with the animal, I guarantee you I wouldn’t have screamed like a chick. But I digress.

So friends, what’s the moral of this story? Honestly, I have no fucking clue, but I’ll tell you this… don’t fuck with my buddy Tom. Oh yeah, and if he comes to visit? After he leaves, burn your towels.

Me likey the Wu-Tang Clan. I always have too. Back in the day when all the kids I knew were into Extreme or god knows what else, I was bumpin Wu Tang’s Forever. I never went as far as to buy any articles of Wu Wear, but I have bought enough of their CDs to feel somewhat financially responsible for Ol’ Dirty Bastards drug habit and eventual death. Sorry Dirt. Anyways, as far as the Wu-Tang Clan goes, it’s been a pretty tough run over the last several years. Sure we’ve seen some great discs released by individual members, but nothing really from the group as a whole. That is until now. Well, kinda.

To call Mathematics Presents Wu-Tang Clan & Friends: Unreleased a true Wu-Tang release is stretching it a bit. Yes there are several tracks with Clan members on it and there are even two tracks with at least four members on it, this just doesn’t seem like a Wu-Tang record. I’m not saying that this is bad, far from it. It just doesn’t have the same magic that the previous records have had. Maybe it’s the fact that The Rza had nothing to do with the production. Maybe not.

I can say that there are no bad songs on this album, but some definitely stand out more than others. Oddly enough, most of the songs that feature a Clan member are good, especially the Wu-Tangy track “Wu Banga Remix,” which features Gza, Ghostface Killa, Raekwon, Cappadonna and Masta Killa. Out of all the “& Friends” there really isn’t much that is really gripping. “Wanna Believe” by Allah real and Bad Luck is the best track without the Wu.

Be it the orange drink preferred by (non diaper wearing and pepper spraying) astronauts, or the slang for a ladies Va-J, I’m totally down with the Tang. Luckily, if this album gives us a clue into what the future holds for the Wu-Tang Clan, the groups next album just might be the greatest rap album ever created. Well, at least the greatest rap album that ODB didn’t have a part in.

Reverb. . .with J.D.

Last Sunday night, JD watched the Grammys”¦every last soul-sucking moment of it. Here then, is his blow-by-blow account:

7 O’Clock Hour:

–Ladies and Gentlemen, opening the show tonight”¦.The Police! Like everyone else I can’t wait to see how well the Gibb brothers have aged”¦.especially Sting Gibb.

–Song choice: “Roxanne”. Wow! Who would have guessed??

–Sting really seems to have a special glow about him tonight – either he’s delighted to be back with his boys, or he just had sex for eight hours.

–The person happiest about this little reunion has to be Policeman #3. Sting sold out to Madison Avenue ages ago and Stewart Copeland at least had a nice little run with the supergroup Oysterhead. Andy Summers though – you’d have to think that his royalties from Zenyatta Mondatta dried up a long time ago.

The Police in younger days

******

–Tony Bennett and Stevie Wonder take down the first award, and Stevie’s voice breaks as he dedicates the award to his mom. Geez, we’re only 4 minutes into this thing and I’m already choked up.

–Tony follows that up by slipping in a plug for “Target, the best sponsor of my life” during his acceptance speech. So much for the tender moment.

******

–Next up, The Dixie Chicks, performing “I’m Not Ready To Make Nice.” I’m going to bypass the obvious fashion/talent/Natalie Maines jokes here and give them a begrudging tip of the cap. They faced major public vitriol in 2003, all on account of Maines making a disparaging comment about President Bush – ‘fans’ bulldozed their CDs at a demonstration against them and country radio stations banned their music from the airwaves. But regardless of what you think of them, this actually kind of sucks”¦given, you know, The First Amendment and all.

–Not to mention Duhbya’s current approval ratings”¦but I digress”¦

******

–Back from a commercial, we have our first surprise guest of the night: Prince!

–As I’ve mentioned before, he is one stylie mofo – except tonight it looks like he borrowed Nicole Richie’s sunglasses”¦and hairstylist.

–(Does anyone else ever wonder how many women Prince ‘purified in the waters of Lake Minnetonka’ before he got all Jehovah witnessy on us? I’d like to know.)

We know Appollonia was baptized

–He introduces Beyonce, who sounds and looks as beautiful as ever. A nation of men simultaneously curses Jay-Z.

******

–In the best R&B song category, Mary J. Blige beats a fine field (Prince, Jamie Foxx, India.Arie, and Lionel Richie) for the win–and takes the early lead in the clubhouse for longest acceptance speech. She spilled into the ‘exit’ music by at least 30 seconds”¦I was sure they were going to bring Chuck Barris out on her”¦

That’s “Gong Show” Chuck Barris”¦not “Assassin” Chuck Barris

******

–Our next presenter is Queen Latifah – voice of the Pizza Hut commercials! From the looks of things, it appears that they pay her in P’zones”¦.handsomely”¦.

******

–Justin Timberlake hits the stage. Say what you what you want about JT, but he’s no cheeseball bubblegum popster, a la Britney or Clay Aiken. He’s cool, and a legit talent.

–Okay, right after I wrote that, he breaks out the “JT Cam,” filming himself performing with a handheld video-cam. Thank you, JT, for promptly refuting my ‘he’s cool, not-a-cheeseball’ argument.

–Okay then, how about this? Cameron Diaz and Scarlett Johannson.

–(Jerk.)

******

–Pink comes out to present a Lifetime Achievement Award to The Doors.

–(I’m afraid to make any jokes about Pink).

–Someone named “T.I.” follows that up with an unintelligible segue into the Best Soul Female R&B Performance.

–Excuse me, stewardess”¦.do you speak jive?

******

–MJB wins again. I love Mary J. and all, but if we have to sit through her fake tears all night, I might have to reconsider.

******

8 O’Clock Hour:

–Stevie Wonder introduces Corrin Bailey Rae, John Legend, and John Mayer.

–Somewhere out there, MC Bell is jumping up and down in anticipation of Mayer playing “I Wanna Run Through the Halls of My High School”¦”

–Everyone brags about John Mayer’s prowess as a blues guitarist, and he shows off some impressive chops here”¦but I’m sorry, the Statute of Limitations on “Your Body Is A Wonderland,” “Daughters,” and “The High School Song” has NOT run out. It’s going to take a while.

Sorry, White Boy”¦your reincarnation as a Blues Man is going to have to wait.

–Mayer wins the next award, and thanks Michael McDonald first. That explains a lot.

–p.s. He’s also dating Jessica Simpson.

–On the bright side, though, how about Corrin Bailey Rae?? She’s a siren!

******

–Before the commercial break, they tease the upcoming Shakira performance, which inspires the following quote from my buddy Wolfeman: “Oh, Shakira, please wear something nice.”

–Shakira comes on”¦and our wish has been granted! She’s in a tube-top and is busting her Egypto/Latina belly-dance thing”¦and it is HOT! Wyclef Jean can hardly keep himself from rubbing up on her. He’s adjusted his junk three times already – I’m not even kidding.

–I’m in love! (With Shakira I mean”¦)

–CBS cameras cut straight from her performance to a shot of The Dixie Chicks. That’s one way to cool things off real quick.

–Next up, Burt Bacharach makes a pass at Seal. The Shakira fire has officially been extinguished.

Shakira tiene una moda muy sabrosa.

******

–Two ladies from “How I Met Your Mother” (??) introduce The Grateful Dead as Lifetime Achievement Award winners. Hippies everywhere regurgitate kind rainbow goo-balls in their mouths. Wasn’t Bill Walton available?

–Good try by The Grammys though. And nice footage of Jerry Garcia and Pigpen.

******

–Now the song you’ve all been DYING to hear”¦.”Crazy,” performed live by Gnarls Barkley!! Seriously, they should play that song more often.

–Okay, okay”¦I’ll admit it. Best song of the millennium so far.

******

–Afterwards, cutaway #7 to the three finalists for the “My Grammy Moment” award”¦(a.k.a the “Let’s Rip Off American Idol Contest”).

–The young ladies once again hold hands and preen for the camera, inspiring The Wolfeman to say “I hope they start making out!”

–It’s official: Grammy loopiness has set in upon us.

******

–Next presenters are Common and Kanye “George Bush Doesn’t Like Black People” West. This could be fun.

–Alas, no such luck. However, during his acceptance speech, Ludacris–best-dressed man of the night–thanks Bill O’Reilly and Oprah! That was worth it.

******

8:30 pm

–Okay, confession time. This is not a ‘live’ blog. We tivoed it. And this is the point of the show where things went CAREENING downhill. So let’s just play Tivo and fast-forward through the ‘highlights’:

Another PYT camera shot (alas, no making out). MJB performs. Dixie Chicks win again–Natalie Maines quotes Nelson Munsch in her acceptance speech (Please”¦make it stop”¦). Reba McEntire introduces a “Roots of Country Music” medley, then wipes ‘Red Man’ off her chin. Carrie Underwood – meow – sings an old-time country song. (Sadly, no camera shots of the crowds’ mass exodus to the restroom). Then, the low point of the night: Rascal Flatts does their best bar-karaoke version of “Hotel California.” The lead singer plays air-guitar at the end”¦ and there’s three minutes of our life we’ll never get back. How in the hell are these guys popular?? Oh wait”¦.NASCAR crowd”¦Now Carrie Underwood does “Desperado.” It looks surprisingly nice on ‘mute!’ Then, more “Guantanamo Bay Torture Music” from Rascal Flatts”¦ I’m pretty sure he’s singing “Life in the ‘Fat’ Lane.” Ladies and Gentlemen, The Roots of Country Music”¦ featuring The Eagles! The Grammys sure have their fingers on the pulse of music.

On a positive note, Lionel Richie is coming up (Thank God!!). In the meantime, Samuel L Jackson comes out in a beret”¦again. When the hell are his male buddies going to have a ‘beret-intervention’?? He introduces Smokey Robinson, who manages to move his lips through the Botox, a very impressive feat. And finally, Lionel”¦.and he’s singing “Hello”!! I couldn’t be happier. That’s followed by youngsters in Mexi wrestling masks, breakdancing. Very upsetting. But in keeping with the manic, up-and-down pace, Christina Aguilera comes out for a James Brown tribute”¦ resplendent in a white camel-toe suit, she KILLS “This is a Man’s World.” Afterwards, you can see Jamie Foxx nodding and saying “That was good stuff right there.” Can we just pretend like the Rascal Flatts thing never happened?

The ‘in-memoriam’ segment is next, properly capped off by a stylish tribute to James Brown. They hang his “Godfather of Soul” cape on a microphone and fade to black. Hard to believe, but every now and then the Grammys get it right.

It’s downhill from there. Amazingly, David Spade gets some airtime, MJB switches to her hair from 1994 for her performance with Ludacris, and James Blunt sings “You’re Beautiful” (while we frantically search for the ‘MUTE’ button). Then, former rock band The Red Hot Chili Peppers perform one of their new Adult Contemporary hits, and in the annual “The Grammys Have Zero Credibility” moment, The Dixie Chicks beat “Crazy” for Song of the Year”¦which is followed up by them beating four more deserving artists for “Album of the Year.” So in the end, the last three hours were an agonizing prelude to the Grammys Big Wet Kiss of the Dixie Chicks.

If you’ve lasted this long with me you probably feel as dirty and spent as I did after watching it. Please don’t hesitate to write MC and tell him I deserve a raise.

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

UPCOMING RELEASES… 2/20/07

Well, there you have it friends… another one in the bank. Until next week, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send pictures of your liter box, review copies, hate mail and assorted presents to:

M.C. Bell

P.O. Box 1222

Arvada, CO 80001

Hey… it appears that Paris has a cat, too, because it clearly states this prescription is for her pussy.

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Welcome back, my friends, to another edition of “Music for the Masses.” This week, we duck and cover for fear of Fall Out Boy, wonder silently to ourselves “just how tasty are the Tastydactyls?” and watch in awe as Double A takes on the Afro Samurai. Oh yeah, and the guy that mows my lawn and “blows out my sprinklers” reviews the new one from Saliva. Sound like fun? Well, what do you say we find out?

Fall Out Boy

Album: Infinity On High

Sounds like: From Under A Cork Tree… Now with 20% more suck!!

Fall Out Boy (From Left): Wentz and 3 of the “writer” characters from 30 Rock.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, kids, but Fall Out Boy’s “new” album, Infinity On High, will NOT be carried at your local Hot Topic store. No, sparky… that’s not a joke. It was breaking news today on Fall Out Boy’s web-site. Seriously. Now, if you are anything like me, and with the exception of that “pesky” third nipple and over-abundance of ass hair, I know you are EXACTLY like me, you’re thinking “No Fall Out Boy at Hot Topic!! That’s insane!! What is this world coming to?? Why that would be like Hollister refusing to sell ‘whore’s clothes’ to ‘Tweeners’ or Wal-Mart refusing to carry sleeve-less denim shirts!” But hey… buck up, little camper. It’s not THAT big of a deal. You’re just going to have to have your mom make TWO stops at the mall… one to pick up your cleverly ironic, “old school” rock T-Shirts, Family Guyâ„¢ “Freakin’ Sweet!” belt buckle and “You Are Soooo Gonna Get Your Ass Kicked At High School Wearing That” fedora© and one trip to buy Infinity On High or, as I like it to call it, “From Under The Cork Tree II: Electric Bunghole.”

Hey Pete… which one is your “Lindsay finger.” Nice. Flipping people off is SO punk.

To quote Peter Noone of Herman’s Hermits fame, the “Second verse” is the “same as the first!” so feel free, kids, to sing along with Infinity On High as it dishes up more of the same from Chicago’s own, Fall Out Boy. For instance, you want more of that slightly self-deprecating, “wink wink, nudge nudge” pop/punk? Check. More of those rousing and hook-heavy, group-sung choruses? Check. More intros by Jay-Z? Wait… okay, maybe THAT’s new, but do you want more of those lengthy, yet clever, song titles? Well… you get more of that, too. And speaking of that, I have to tell you that I am more than a little pissed that the band passed on the song titles that I sent them because “I Dated Lindsay Lohan And All I Got Out Of It Was A Rash On My Tongue And An Empty Lick-Her Cabinet” and “There’s A Party In Pete’s Mouth And Everyone’s Coming!” would have fit in nicely with the other track listings. Thanks for nothing, Pete. You fucker.

The “All You Can Pete” Buffet… open 24/7… HA!

Now, obviously, I’m not the biggest fan of these “guys” but, that being said, I would be a bit disingenuous if I said that I completely dislike this album. On the contrary, some of the songs on here are catchy as the “Clap,” especially “The Take Over, The Break’s Over” and “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs,” and why wouldn’t they be? After all, to bastardize a quote from M.C. Lars, “[Fall Out Boy] is a contrived identification with youth subcultures to manufacture an anti-authoritarian identity and make millions.” Yep… that pretty much nails it because who doesn’t want to nurture their anti-authoritarian identity? “Who,” I ask!?

This baby has all the “wanna-be” punk attitude that the discriminating “wanna-be” punk demands from his “wanna-be” punk-pop bands. So, if you are already a fan of Fall Out Boy, by which, I mean that you bought a Dropkick Murphy and Operation Ivy shirt from Hot Topic but you don’t have any music from either band, you are going to be more tickled with this album than Paula Abdul with a belly full of her “relaxin’” pills. If you’re not a fan and you actually understand the reference I just made to the Dropkick Murphy’s and Operation Ivy… man… you are going to hate this more than that one time your uncle gave you a colonoscopy with his “weiner cam.” But hey… regardless of where you fall in this “love ’em/hate ’em” debate, just remember this: Hot Topic and Fall Out Boy ARE NOT punk rock.

Now, kids, if you’ll kindly turn to page 110 in your M.C. Lars handbook and repeat after me (from his song “Hot Topic IS NOT Punk Rock”):

Go!
Books about Evanescence (Are not punk rock!)
Guns ‘n Roses watches (Are not punk rock!)
Hello Kitty iPod cases (Are not punk rock!)
Rob Zombie lunch boxes (Are not punk rock!)
Slipknot binder paper (Is not punk rock!)
Tinkerbell pillow cases (Are not punk rock!)
Led Zeppelin air fresheners (Are not punk rock!)
Tupac incense burners (Are not punk rock!)

Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)

Misfits candle tins (Are not punk rock!)
ICP throw blankets (Are not punk rock!)
Beaded Elvis curtains (Are not punk rock!)
Talking Lambchop plush dolls (Are not punk rock!)
AC/DC hair clips (Are not punk rock!)
Spongebob wristbands (Are not punk rock!)
Sex Pistols boxer shorts (Are not punk rock!)
Dischord back catalog (Okay. Maybe that’s punk rock.)

Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)
Hot Topic is not punk rock! (Hot Topic!)

Hot Topic is a contrived identification with youth subcultures to manufacture an anti-authoritarian identity and make millions. The $8 you paid for the Mudvayne poster would be better spent used to see your brother’s friend’s band.

DIY ethics are punk rock
Starting your own label is punk rock
G.G. Allin was punk rock.

But when a crass corporate vulture feeds on mass-consumer culture, this spending mommy’s money is not punk rock!

Amen, brother.

QUICKEE OF THE WEEK…

The Tastydactyls

Album: One & Nine (We Had A Hell Of A Run)

Does this band sound familiar to you? Well, assuming you’ve eased up a bit on your paint-huffing dalliances, you may recall that I featured the Tastydactyls in my “Pimp Your Band” portion of this here column. To refresh your mammary, the Tasties (as I like to call them for no particular reason) hail from deep in the heart o’ Tex-Ass and have been on one hell of a roll, as of late. For starters, they are coming off a glorious victory at their local battle of the bands competition where they treated the competition like the “small guy in prison.” They are also readying themselves for their first ever “World Tour” (okay, actually the are going to go play some gigs in Ireland) and recently released a kick-ass EP, One & Nine (We Had A Hell Of A Run). The music on this disc is down-right infectious. With it’s herky-jerky rhythms and quirky/clever instrumentation (accordions, train whistles and glockenspiels), One & Nine comes off as a wonderfully weird mix of Cursive (“Clockwork”) and Jimmy Eat World (“Like A Bear”). If you are looking for some truly imaginative alternative, look no further. Check them out over at www.myspace.com/thetastydactyls.

Let me clear the air on a few things before we get started with this here review. I’m not down with the whole Anime thing. I just don’t dig it. I don’t understand it, and everything I’ve seen is just plain dumb. With that said, imagine my surprise as I sat in a room at the San Diego Comic Con watching the end of the Afro Samurai TV show panel. I truly dug what I saw, I mean how can you go wrong with a project that involves Samuel L. Jackson, Ron Pearlman and the Wu Tang Clan’s The RZA? I submit that you cannot. And now that the show is on the air, though you better hurry as the run is almost over, I am still impressed with what I see. Now, I’m equally impressed with what I hear, as The RZA has finally released the soundtrack to the show.

Shortly after seeing the presentation, I heard that the album was going to be coming long before the show ever made it to the air. I was excited. You could even say that I was as excited as the proverbial schoolgirl. But then I got the news that the album was delayed. Then it was delayed again. And again. I cried like a fat guy when the all you can eat Chinese restaurant closes. But now the album is actually out and it’s pretty good. I wouldn’t say that it’s a great album, but it is definitely worth a listen. The albums isn’t just a straight up rap album, which is one of the reasons why it’s not great. Mixed in with the raps are a few R&B type songs and instrumentals that are featured in the show. The raps are good and the instrumentals are great. The R&B songs? Not so much. I mean they might be good, but they just seem a little out of place on this album.

If you’re a rap fan, or a fan of the show, pick this album up. Like I said, all of the instrumentals from the show are great, and the raps are all pretty good too, especially “Who Is The Man” and “Fury In My Eyes/Revenge.” This album also features four tracks with RZA’s Bobby Digital alter ego, and everyone is good. It’s really hard to beat The RZA’s delivery. If you haven’t ever heard him rap, do yourself a favor and check him out. Oh, and with that said, I just want it to be known that indeed, Wu Tang Clan ain’t nothing to fuck with. Bitches!

REVIEWS BY…

Jose

Jose Can You See… My Muy Bueno Landscaping, LLC.

Cuándo yo oí primero el nuevo álbum de la Saliva yo gozaba una tarde agradable que repantiga en mi traspatio. El sol fue brillante, los niños se divertían jugando y mi esposa inventaba una sopa maravillosa. La saliva vino en la radio y todo arruinado.

Si esto es lo que América llama la música, entonces quizás sea tiempo para mí volver a casa. Si queriendo que esta basura es lo que toma para ser Americano entonces yo no quiero ninguna parte de ello. Algunos de mi landscapers prójimo gozan realmente esta mierda y me hace triste para sus niños.

Mi cortacéspedes es más agradable que mi coche y por lo tanto, debe cabalgar en el estilo.

Saliva es una banda terrible y es casi completamente irreconocible de todas las otras bandas inventadas de piedra que circulan este país. Nickleback, yo le miro.

Este CD no tiene las calidades compensatorias. La banda ha vendido completamente en una tentativa para vender como muchos álbumes como Nickleback. Para la consideración de Dios la canción “Black Sheep” suena exactamente como “Animals” por Nickleback. No hay una canción en este álbum que usted no ha oído hecho antes de y hecho mejor.

Recorté este arbusto para el Señor M.C. informar a su vecino que él es, verdaderamente, un fucker de mono de asshole.

Uno de mis clientes, M.C. Bell me dio este CD a revisar para él y no yo sé por qué. El está tan triste para su propio país que él esperó que alguien con un par fresco de orejas quizás encontrara que algo redimiendo en ello. Lo siento de decir Senior Bell pero fallé.

Yo me golpearía más bien en la cabeza con mi rastrillo que escucho otra canción de este álbum.

UPCOMING RELEASES… 2/6/2007

Well… there you have it folks. Until next week… keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!

Send your cleverly ironic T-Shirts, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hello again! “˜Tis I, your old pal M.C… back with a SUPER-SIZED edition of “Music for the Masses.” This week, I “whips out” a gnarly, Big Cock and slam it against the bedpost a couple of times to “warm it up a bit” before sticking it in your ear. Meanwhile, Double A checks in with the new one from Nas and proclaims that Hip Hop Is Dead and we “class the joint up a bit” by adding a new voice to the proceedings, “Reverb. . .with J.D.” Sound like fun? Well, what do you say we find out?

BIG COCK
Album: Big Cock
Sounds Like? The Whiskey on Sunset… circa 1987.

There ain’t no blockin’ THESE Cocks…

Before I begin any type of review for the new, self-titled album from Scottsdale, Arizona’s Big Cock, I would like to personally thank them… again… for naming their band after me. You’re too kind, boys… too kind. And since you were obviously using me as your naming inspiration, I would also like to thank you for avoiding the band names “BackHair,” “Halitosis” and “Un-descended Left Nut.” You guys fucking rock, in a very “don some acid-wash, crimp your hair and hop in the “˜Z’ to head to the tracks to slam some Matilda Bay” kinda way, and I’m reserving a special place in heaven for you boys… smack-ass between the guy who invented the “day-glo pink” wife beater and this hell-cat.. GRRRRR!!!!

Jesus… hope this guy never has an itch on his balls.

But seriously, folks, I’m here to tell you that, obvious “big dick jokes” aside, Big Cock is a group of HARD rockers in the VEIN of Deep PURPLE and HELMET. In fact, even a ONE EYED SNAKE could see how HARD these guy’s rock. Okay… I lied. Those were still some OBVIOUS jokes and perhaps… PERHAPS… that last one was a “bit” of a stretch. Whatever. Let’s just suffice it to say that Big Cock is one of the best non-hair “hair metal” band that you have ever heard… like an AquaNet “wetdream”… sans the AquaNet.

AquaNet… the first choice for dudes dressing like chicks.©

That’s right, Mr. Brett Michaels!! Keep your fingers crossed!! I smell an “opening act” opportunity for you on the horizon!!

Pamela Anderso… wait… I mean, Brett Michaels… wait. Good lord. I wish they’d wear name tags or something… it’s like trying to tell the fucking Olsen twins apart.

All joking aside, this new disc from the Arizona 4-piece is cock-full, I mean, chock-full of ass-ripping power chords, blistering solos, nut-thudding base, head-pounding drums and enough euphemisms for male genitalia to make Lance Bass lick his lips. Check out some of these song titles: “Ride On Me,” “Rock Hard,” “Every Inch Of My Love” and “Fucked Up!” Oh yeah, and there’s a cover of the Paul Anka song, “She’s A Lady.” My particular favorites, though, are the riff-laden songs “Real Man” and “Scottsdale Girls,” the later of which I am dedicating, right here and now, to Christopher Stipp from Quick Stop’s very own “Trailer Park” because of the line “make a mess in your blonde curls, my Scottsdale Girls.” See, I’m thinking that’s how Stipp rolls. “Naw, baby, you don’t have to worry. I’ll tell you when I’m about to… AHHH… OHHHH… damn, baby… I’m sorry. Sit right there. I’ll go get you a wet nap.” Oh yeah, and he’s from Scottsdale.

Stipp’s ride, “the PenetrateHer.”

Is this the most original music that you’ll ever hear? Hell no. But who fucking cares? Seriously. That’s not the point of having Big Cock. The point of having Big Cock is to pump some fun back into the tight-assed, “American Idol-loving” music scene, to slap on the foreheads of the punk and “screamo” crowds and to give the world back it’s arena rock. And that, my friends, is EXACTLY what this Big Cock does. Fuck yeah!! Can I hear an “Amen?” Damn straight.

Sure, it wouldn’t have killed these guys to change the tempo from song to song and the lyrics are not going to win any literary awards, but hey… screw it! I give nothing but kudos to these guys for gearing this baby for maximum, sustained head-bangage. I’ll say it again, this CD is pure, “Devil Horn” pumping fun, plain and simple, so go ahead… take this Big Cock for a spin and see how it fits. I’m confident that you’ll think it’s one hell of a ride.

(No Shit, fun stuff!).

Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There hasn’t been a damn thing worth a shit to come out this year. Granted, the year is only in its third week, but in the time that I’ve been doing these here reviews, I’ve NEVER had this much trouble finding something to review. So instead of picking up something completely random, I decided to go with an album that came out towards the end of last year. That album is Nas’ Hip Hop is Dead. I’d heard that the album was pretty good, but I avoided it at first because I’m just not into Nas. After listening to this album, I can honestly tell you… I’m STILL not into Nas.

Don’t get me wrong, this album isn’t bad, it’s just not my cup of tea. Or cup of crunk juice if you will, cus you know, rappers these days are all about the crunk juice. Anyways, Hip Hop is Dead just seems to be going through the motions. None of the songs are bad, but none of them are really great. There were a few times when I found myself getting into a song, but for the most part, all the songs are just kind of plain. Songs like “Where Are they Now?” and “Who Killed It?” offer up some good rhymes and are probably the best tracks on the album.

If you’re like me, you want an album that you can really get into. Like Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs or, I guess, Jay in Clerks II. You know what I mean? Unfortunately this album doesn’t make me want to wear it like a hat. I can see why a lot of mainstream outlets called this the best rap album of last year. It’s safe and non-threatening and, in my opinion, not all that great. If you haven’t picked this up yet… don’t go out of your way. Save your money for some future releases that (hopefully) will be coming out in the next few week.

Reverb… with J.D.

One of the great things about living in Denver is the volume of high-quality of live music that comes through town. As the only “˜major’ city between the West Coast and the Midwest, pretty much every band on tour makes a stop here”¦ as such, you can catch a solid show seemingly every week.

The past couple of weekends I hit two excellent concerts: My Morning Jacket (1/12) and G. Love (1/19). Actually, though, it’s not really appropriate to group those two together in the “˜excellence’ category. MMJ was indeed stellar: they are a tight band clearly living up to the hype, filling their live show with aural explorations that consistently swell to mesmerizing, kick-ass guitar crescendos. G. Love, on the other hand, was pretty sloppy. The sound at the Fillmore sucked that night and it definitely appeared that G. and his crew had been hitting the “Special Sauce”. But like every other G. Love show I’ve been to, it was still a blast. Good music, good times, and for the most part, good peeps.

My only complaint about the show actually came from the crowd. During the acoustic part of G’s encore (two songs) some stupid chick standing directly behind me randomly let out howling, eardrum-piercing screams. Now I can appreciate that G. Love, via soulful lyrics and his whitey-hop boogie stylings, consistently hits the “G.” spot of the ladies in his audience”¦ but not to the point where can I appreciate losing a couple of years hearing off the back end of my life.

My first inclination was to turn around, walk up to her, and scream right the f*ck back in her ear”¦ kinda like the narrator in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado“, of course without the satisfaction horror of silencing her for good. But instead I got to thinking of the most annoying crowd behavior I’ve encountered in my years as a serial concert-goer, and came up with a little rulebook for attending live shows:

The Concertgoers Manifesto

Rule #1: Shut The Fuck Up

–Chances are, I paid good money (plus Ticketmaster gouges) to see this show. So did everyone else around you. And that’s the deal, boys and girls. We paid to listen to the music, not to you. So shut your damn piehole already. If you have a story to tell, save it til’ set-break, take it to the concourses, do whatever you have to do”¦just shut the f*ck up. (Two Notes– First, there are obvious exceptions: brief/discreet/reasonably quiet chats with your friends”¦and/or making time with the person next to you. This rule is more intended for the non-stop jabberers who talk during the entire show (and whose population is distressingly large). Second, the importance of this rule increases proportionally to the intimacy of the show you are attending. Large, loud rock show: not as important (since we probably can’t hear you). Cozy, acoustic-type show: Mandatory).

Rule #2: Loosen Up, Meat

–You know this guy, right? He’s standing right in front of you at a G.A. show, likely muscle-bound, and he ain’t moving one inch of his being”¦ except to pound your a** if you keep touching him. Hey Jockstrap, nothing personal”¦ it’s just a little crowded, and oh by the way there’s some music being played that is making every other person in this crowd, you know, dance a little. But sorry for brushing up against you”¦ maybe next concert you’ll get lucky and everyone around you will also hate life and not want to have fun.

Rule #3: Head Up (or Down) With Your Outbursts

–See G. Love explanation. Many of us, myself included, are given to cheering/whistling/hollering when we are excited/having fun/drunk at shows. But do your neighbor a favor and point your head up (or down) when cutting loose with your chosen outbursts. Because doing so directly in your neighbors ear? Es muy mal.

Rule #4: If You Spill Someone’s Drink, You Owe Them a New One

–Self-explanatory. Kindly ask what you spilled, and kindly hurry up and get them a new one.

Rule #5: Leave the Accessories at Home

–This rule applies mostly to crunchy, uber jam-type shows where sometimes fans like to accessorize and become a part of the show. Two prime examples are bringing in shakers to “jam along with the band” and hula hoops. Shakers are just inexcusable. Remember, everyone paid to listen to the band, NOT you and your little sand-filled egg. And if you are over 18 and hula-hooping at a show, I have this little pearl of wisdom for you:

Q: What’s the toughest thing about hula-hooping?
A: Telling your dad you’re gay.

So there you have it, folks. Five simple, easy-to-follow rules that will make EVERYONE’S concert-going experience a lot more fun. Learn it, live it, share it with your friends!

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Well, as the tens of you probably heard on the J. Allen/Double A “fill-in podcast” last week, I was on a cruise. No… that’s not “code” for “rehab.” Seriously… it was a cruise. And, contrary to their claims, this was NOT a “big, gay boat ride”… however, someone forgot to tell these guys… seriously… they were on the cruise…

In all actuality, it was the “Ships & Dip” excursion featuring the Barenaked Ladies and Guster. Now, I realize that for some of you, my “puss factor” just shot through the roof, but hey, whatever… I’m comfortable in my own skin, dammit… just like the two “seamen” up above there… and there was no way in hell that I was going to miss an opportunity to hang out with two of my “most favortist” bands in the world while cruising the Bahamas. You fucking high? Nope, wouldn’t have missed it for the world and I gotta tell you… I’m glad I didn’t because it was an absolutely REMARKABLE experience. Sure, my requests for interviews where shit on like a prostitute at a Duke Lacross party (yes, I know they were innocent… relax), but all of the other experiences I had on the boat more than made up for that.

First and foremost, we (me and the little lady) were lucky enough to have met some really cool people including one couple that said they were “swingers.” I told them that I didn’t realize that the ship HAD a playground on it, but that maybe we could meet there later. Never found that damn playground, though. Oh, we also met a TON, literally, of people who were under the mistaken impression this little boat ride was, in fact, a Jenny Craig “Cruise to Lose” jaunt. I shit you not… as we were boarding, or rather, herding onto the boat, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see Kirstie Alley listed as one of the “entertainers”… or Richard Simmons. In a weird way, I was comforted by the fact that if the boat sank, there were PLENTY of fat people I could use as a floatation device.

Man rubbing lotion on BNL fan: Turks and Caicos, 1/17/07

We also discovered something called “alcohol.” You guys ever hear of this stuff? Wowie wow… good shit! The waiters would bring it right to you. You didn’t even have to move which, as I noted above, was a VERY good thing for some people and a good thing for me as it kept the boat from rocking. Oh, and let’s not forget the AMAZING shows. In fact, the shows I saw with the big boys, especially Guster, rank with some of the best live shows that I have ever seen. No kidding. But the real unexpected treat here, the thing that just pushed this cruise over the top for me, was seeing all of the incredible collaborations between the various artists and getting clued in to some lesser known acts. In fact, I was SOOOOO impressed by some of these bands and how hard they worked on this cruise that I thought I would help them out a bit by telling you a bit about them. Believe me, after all that they gave to me… it’s the least I could do.

Now Joe Pisapia doesn’t need me to pimp anything for him because he is doing JUST FINE as one of the members of Guster. He’s the “New Guy,” if you will. But before Joe joined the band, he made an outstanding solo disc that I think you guys should check out called Daydreams.

I respect the hell out of Joe Pisapia because he is an artist driven more by the act of making music and being appreciated for it than he is by fame and fortune and that attitude shines the brightest on Daydreams. Borrowing equal parts from Dylan and Davies, Daydreams is an entertaining collection of multi-layered songs that reveal more and more each time you listen. The instrumentation and arrangements are sublime and the lyrics are both touching and poignant, especially on tracks like “River Song” and “Dancing Partner.” I was fortunate to catch Joe’s “solo” performance (on stage with him were members from Oakhurst, who we’ll get to in a minute, BNL and, of course, Guster) on the ship, during which he played most of Daydreams. I can honestly say THAT performance was EASILY my favorite moment of the cruise and his heartfelt rendition of “Dancing Partner” literally brought the little lady to tears. It was THAT moving. You know, I kid around A LOT on this site, but I’m not kidding when I say that there are times when you are watching a show, and I’m sure many of you have experienced this, when the chemistry on stage is so mesmerizing, you get swept away. This was one of those moments. Simply amazing. I highly recommend Daydreams. It’s folksy and mellow, but it is an outstanding album and well worth your time.

Another band that impressed the hell out of me was a band from right here in Denver, Oakhurst. Oakhurst easily gets the award for “Hardest Working Band” on the cruise as these guys where, literally, EVERYWHERE. Whether they were picking their way through a set of their highly entertaining, bluegrass infused folk-pop or lending support to the other bands and their various side projects, members of this band worked constantly. In fact, I heard that these guys (A.P. Hill on vocals/guitar, Johnny Qualley on bass, Adam Smith on guitar, Chris Budin on drums and Zach Daniels on banjo) paid their own way onto the boat just to get a little exposure and at the beginning of the cruise had NO set gigs. Obviously, they didn’t just impress me because they were a part of virtually every show, so take that for what it’s worth. Again, Oakhurst’s music is a bit on the mellow side, but this is a great group of guys and they are all exceptionally talented musicians so stop by and show them a little love at www.myspace.com/oakhurst.

And last, but definitely not least, is Jason Plumb. You see Jason is a bit of a contradiction in that he looks like a trucker… the kind with a dead hooker in the back of the refrigeration unit… but has this voice that is just remarkable, especially when you consider the source. When I first saw him hit the stage, I was honestly waiting for him to let loose with a mighty “Breaker, breaker… c’mon back now!! This is Hooker Hauler… what’s your 20??” Of course, some of you may know Jason as the ex-lead singer of the Canadian band, The Waltons. You may also know him from his numerous producing credits or from some of his soundtrack credits. I didn’t know any of this. All I knew his last album, 2003’s Under and Over, was produced by Ed Robertson, of BNL fame, and is a very understated and passionate affair. The songs on the disc are disarming in their honesty and immediately accessible. Great stuff, all around. Additionally, I gotta say that Jason was one of the coolest people that I met on the ship. Check him out at www.myspace.com/jasonplumbandthewilling.

UPCOMING RELEASES. . .

Well… there you have it folks. Thanks for hanging in there and, until next time, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!!

Send sexual inuendos, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:
M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Welcome back, friends, to a new edition of Music for the Masses. This week, due to some slim pickings… we are keeping it a bit short. So… sit back and relax as we kick you in The Shins and hitchhike across the galaxy with Mos Def. Sound like fun? Sure hope so. Well, hey? What do you say we find out?

The Shins
Album: Wincing The Night Away
Sounds Like? Jeremy Enigk spanking a fat and naughty Brian Wilson for going off his meds… again.
You know? If I were James Mercer or Jesse Sandoval, co-founders of inde-rock darlings, The Shins, the first thing I would do each and every morning is to roll over and give Zach Braff a big, ol’ sloppy blow job. And no, I’m not talking about your everyday, run-of-the-mill, “let’s get this over quick because ‘Deal or No Deal’ starts in ten” kind of blow job either. I’m talking the “savor it like it’s the best steak dinner you’ve ever had” blow job replete with minimal raking of the teeth and a subtle grip. Kinda like you’re holding a baby bird in your hand and, umm, rhythmically choking it to death. . .as you lick it’s head.

I mean, honestly… if you had a guy that was single-handedly responsible for the fact that people outside of Portland, OR know who in the hell you are, what WOULD you give him to show him “he’s special?” Umm hmm. See? Exactly my point. Granted Braff, the real Dr. McDreamy if you ask me, didn’t write the music, sing the songs or play any of the instruments on any of The Shins albums, but if Zach hadn’t put two of The Shins’ songs from Oh, Inverted World on the soundtrack to his “little indie” film, Garden State, in addition to having Natalie Portman’s character state the song “New Slang” would “change your life” (even though she KNEW damn well in that film that the song “Caring Is Creepy” is SOOOO much better), these guys would still be busing tables at IHOP.

Dirty, dirty Amidala. . .

I can honestly say that I was not an overly big fan of The Shins going into this review, but after listening to the new album, Wincing The Night Away, I am completely blown away. This band, albeit in a mellow fashion, completely kicks ass. Who knew? I mean, besides Zach, of course. Now, I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting with this disc, but this sure-as-hell wasn’t it. Featuring some masterful work from singer/guitarist James Mercer, bassist Dave Hernandez, “trippy “keyboardist/guitarist Martin Crandall and drummer, Jesse Sandoval, The Shins appear to be hitting their “musical stride” here harder than Tom Sizemore hitting Heidi Fleiss and the seamless blending of elements from folk, country and pop into a quirky and melodic hybrid that I like to call “Fopoptry,” or, if you prefer, “Focuntop,” is sublime. Hey… I know those are not as “cool sounding” as “Benifer” or “Branjolina.” Whatever. Fuck off.

Good to see that Booger from “Revenge of the Nerds” is working again.

Some of this new material is far meatier and fuzzier (relatively speaking) than anything I recall hearing from this band in the past and that, my friends, is a great thing in balancing out the overall sound. I particularly enjoy the way that Mercer’s melodic vocals and note-perfect, guitar phrasing pull the songs on this disc together while never becoming boring, stale or over-used. The album is chock full of “special moments,” but my personal favorites are the Sunny Day Real Estate-inspired “Split Needles,” the Brian Wilson meets Pinback smoothness of “Turn On Me,” the deranged lullaby “Red Rabbit” and the very Beck-esque “Sea Legs.” If this is ANY indication of the music we have to look forward to in 2007, it’s going to be one hell of a year. Fantastic job, guys, on crafting the first “must buy” of the year.

Check out the new track, Phantom Limb, here!

Top Score!!! High Five!!!!

Ahhh, I can remember it well. The year was 2006, the Carolina Hurricanes won the Stanley Cup, Pirates of the Caribbean 2 was ruling the box office and, more importantly, I was a fresh faced (read: pimple-riddled) kid trying to make my way in this crazy world. Ahhh, good times. It was also the year that I was introduced to the rapper known as Mos Def. I knew who Mos Def was, but I was afraid. Like a quivering accountant in a prison cell with Mike Tyson… or Gary Glitter. I had never heard anything by him. No, not Glitter… Def. Then out of the blue my brother comes home with the Mos Def/Talib Kweli collaboration Black Star. I was impressed and since that time I’ll fully admit that I am a huge Mos Def fan.

Now, since I heard Def’s last album, The New Danger, I’ve been waiting for the promised 2006 release of Tru3 Magic. Nope… no clue what that backward “3” means. You? Unfortunately, the disc kept getting pushed back. And pushed back. And pushed back… like Lou Diamond’s girlfriend against the trailer wall. Then, on December 29^th, a Friday, the album was released to the world, even though most stores didn’t put it out till Tuesday, January 2^nd. Assholes. Anyway, how do I put this… umm, the album was well worth the wait? Yeah… that’s it. I can honestly say that it is one of the best albums that kinda…  sorta… was supposed to come out last year. I dare say that it was the best rap album to come out in a long time, possibly even beating my old favorite The Return of Dr. Octgon.

Bet his wallet says “Bad Mother Fucker.”

There are no bad songs on this disc. The beats are good, the raps are perfect. Everything about this album is on the money. If one were to twist my arm I would have to say that “Dollar Day” is the best of the best. Formerly released as a single called “Katrina Clap,” Def uses a reggae-esque vocal style over a great beat to make a really interesting song about a great tragedy. Other highlights on the album are “Crime & Medicine” and “Undenible.” Do yourself a favor and go buy this album. Unless you hate rap, then… wow… I wouldn’t recommend buying it.

Yeahhh. . .boooyyyy!!!!

Well, folks, there you have it for this week. Oh, hey, before I forget… here are the new music release for next week…

As always, shop wisely and when fishing for gold in the toilet… beware of turds.

Thanks again for tuning in, friends. We will see you next with a brand spanking-new installment of Music for the Masses. Until then, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!!

Send your ideas for what to do with all of this fucking snow, assorted hate mail, presents and review copies to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

Here’s what I’m doing with all of this fucking snow…

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR |

Happy New Year, QuickStoppers, and welcome back to the new and improved edition of Music for the Masses. That’s right, friends, you read that correctly. New AND improved.

You see, I have decided to change things up here a bit, going forward, to help streamline the column and keep the focus squarly where it belongs… the music. Now, don’t go getting all excited like Lindsay Lohan ordering another vodka drink at an “open bar,” I’m not changing things up a whole bunch. Just “some.” For instance, all of the non-sequitor bullshit that usually starts the column? You know, the same “jokey” shit that drives some of you crazier than Mel Gibson with a belly full of Patron? The same shit you are reading now? Gone. Yep, going forward, you ain’t gonna see this no more. This is the last time and, honestly, the only reason you’re seeing it now is because I wasn’t going to write up the only new release of note this week, Carly “Why So Long In The Face?” Simon’s Into White, and I have space to fill. But seriously, if you’re tuning into this column to catch a review of music that your parents fuck to, you REALLY are in the wrong place.

Carly Simon playing chess with some dude…

That’s right, friends, we are going to start focusing solely on the music and we are going to start doing it weekly. Serious as a lump on a fat man’s tit. Once a week. No more bi-weekly dick and fart jokes for you my friends. You deserve better. You deserve dick and fart jokes EVERY week and finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get them. “Breathe deep the gathering gloom…”

You can also kiss the “Bastard Love Child Of…” comparisons goodbye. No real reason here… just thought it would be fun to change the description of the music to the more simplified “Sounds Like?” For instance, using the above-mentioned Carly Simon album as an example, I would say that her new album “Sounds Like?”… well, it sounds like your parents fucking. Umm… so I’ve heard. Through the wall of that Motel Six in Salida. But I digress.

I am also going to start incorporating more concert reviews – which I have done sporadically in the past – and some actual, artist interviews. No shit. Oh yeah, and I am also going to hit you – like Jackson Browne, only not in the face – with the occasional podcast. And joining me on these occasional (read: whenever the hell I feel like it) podcasts will be Double A, the “rap guy” from this here column, and QSE News guru J. Allen. I’m pretty sure this is one of the signs of the apocalypse, right behind “raining frogs” and an “underwear-less Brittany,” but I’ll let you judge for yourself. Here is a taste of what you can expect…

[CONTENT WARNING]: This podcast, much like the column you have been reading, contains foul language, horribly off-color jokes and multiple, inexplicable usages of the word “va-jay.” Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

DOWNLOAD: (right click to save)
Music For The Masses: Episode 1 (MP3 format) ““ 7.75 MB

Kinda like listening to three 9-year-olds with a tape recorder, huh? By the way, I’d like to thank the “real man” stunt voices for filling in there. Nice work, guys!! Double A will pay each and every one of you with a special “mouth hug” and “pickle tickle.” And, on the off-chance you are actually wondering, future podcasts WILL focus on “real” reviews of new music, so you can consider this first one as a simple “test of the system,” so to speak… just in case you’re sitting there going “What the fu…?” Oh yeah, lest I forget, I’m going to change my rating system (which is, believe it or not, actually serious) to something a bit more “graphically interesting,” continue to pimp unsigned bands whenever the opportunity arises and, perhaps most importantly to some, post the upcoming music releases for your shopping pleasure. Eww… that reminds me… coming up next week, we have the following:

Send pictures of your “va-jay,” assorted hate mail and review copies to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hello, friends and Happy Holidays!! Welcome to the very last Music for the Masses of 2006. Boy, what a year, huh? I don’t know about you, but this time of year, in addition to celebrating (or, in my case, celebate-ing) the holidays with family and friends, I like to reflect on all of the things I’ve learned over the past year. For instance, I learned that you shouldn’t go hunting with Dick Cheney, that Mel Gibson is a bad drunk, that Matt Lauer is “glib,” Tom Cruise is a whacked-out dick, Rep. Foley doesn’t use a bookmark because he just prefers to bend the pages over, Rev. Haggard and Lance Bass both prefer to be “bottoms” and that Brittany apparently shaves her poonanny with a cheese grater. Oh, and I also learned that Pearl Jam fans have even less of a sense of humor than their favorite band. Hard to believe, I know. But, hey, you know the most important thing I learned this year? That’s right!! I learned that the music industry is still capable of offering up some kick-ass tunes and THAT, my friends, is what we are going to concentrate on today. Consider this an early Christmas present, or, if you prefer, a late Hanukah gift, from your old Uncle M.C.

Now, mostly because I’m lazy, I assembled my original reviews for the best albums that I had the good fortune to hear this year. So, for you faithful readers, consider this a trip down mammary… I mean, memory lane. For the rest of you, consider this a peek at what you may have missed.

So, without further ado, I present to you some (note: there were a couple of discs that I think are brilliant that I didn’t review, namely Gomez’s How We Operate and OSI’s Free, that easily would have rated a perfect score) of my favorite discs from 2006… in no particular order…

Artist: We Are Scientists Album: With Love and Squalor Bastard Love Child of: XTC and Hot Hot Heat Best for: Celebrating John Borwein by calculating pi to 100 billion decimal places.

Wow! Look at these guys! It’s Napoleon Dynamite, Merlin Olson and Sy Sperling from Hair Club for Men. To borrow from one of my all-time favorite movies, “these guys [sic] couldn’t get laid in a morgue.” Okay, maybe the one dude… but the other two? Holy crap! These guys look like the teaching assistants at Math Camp. Now, I’m not throwing stones in my own glass house here, but there are ugly people all over the place doing more with what little they have then these boys. Case in point: Paris Hilton. Come on guys… loose the porn-star mustache and the birth-control glasses, the Amish beard, that God-awful sweater and comb-over and have a little respect for yourselves. Good lord.

At any rate… where was I? Oh yeah, the music. So I guess the question here is: what happens when these three guys channel their OBVIOUS sexual frustrations into their music? Well, I’ll tell you. You get the “weird and witty pop” aesthetics of a group like XTC combined with the basic, catchy indie-rock of bands like Hot Hot Heat and the Killers. Or, in other words, you get some damn fine music.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I am fan of the new, indie-rock movement (the Killers, The Strokes, these guys, etc.) and this was an easy sell for me. But regardless, this album is just plain packed with catchy, rocking songs. I personally like the first single, “Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt,” and the single-ready tracks “It’s A Hit” and “The Great Escape.” If you are into this whole scene, it’s impossible to be disappointed with this disc. If your not, well… go check out Mariah’s latest. In fact, you can take all of her album covers, put them into sequential order and flip through them really fast like you would a cartoon book. I swear, as God as my witness, it’s like watching Eddie Murphy change into Professor Klump. I shit you not.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins Album: Rabbit Fur Coat Bastard Love Child of: Cowboy Junkies and Patsy Cline. Best for: Conjuring up images of all the nasty things you’d like to do to Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins.

You know, I’m not sure if it’s the fact that it is getting close to Valentine’s Day (Thank you, Hallmark!) or if it’s all of the Viagara I’ve been ingesting lately, but I feel compelled to tell you all that I’m in love. Her name is Jenny and she sings in a band. I know! I can’t believe it myself. I mean, I’ve liked her for awhile now, but we were mostly “just friends.” But then, I don’t know if it was planned or an accident or what, but suddenly… BAM!! She started singing to me with that voice of hers and then flashed me the twins!

Damn. Now, I will fully admit I am completely infatuated with the former child star, current Rilo Kiley front-hottie and future Mrs. M.C. Bell. You see, note only is she cute as hell (and yes, hell is very cute), but Jenny has a voice, equal parts sultry and sexy, that could turn the Brokeback cowboys straight. I mean really straight, not just “until we’re alone in the mountains” straight. And, as if that wasn’t enough, for this latest side-effort, Jenny went out and found these hot, Kentucky-born, harmonizing twins to sing back up. Good lord… I need a smoke.

Now, I should also admit that I am a bit annoyed that Jenny had to go and ruin all the hot girl-on-girl action here by throwing some dudes into the mix. But considering that the dudes are artists like Connor “Bright Eyes” Oberst, Ben “Death Cab For Cutie” Gibbard and a couple of the swinging dicks from Maroon 5, I’ll forgive her. Also, she really only uses these guys for the Traveling Wilbury’s cover, Handle With Care, so I know they don’t really mean anything to her. She was probably just trying to make me jealous or something.

However, this album is mostly just Jenny and the twins putting a modern stamp on some old sounding music, or, as I like to call her style here, “alternative gospel.” And no, pagans, you shouldn’t fear because I don’t mean that in a religious sense but in the “blending of country, folk, bluegrass… all sprinkled with a hint of deep soul” sense. The songwriting here is strong and the tunes are all memorable, but my personal favorite has to be “Melt Your Heart.” And you know what, Jenny? You did. You did.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: The Subways Album: Young for Eternity Bastard Love Child of: White Stripes and Oasis. Best for: Helping us all to forget that England also gave us the Spice Girls and Wham!

You can say two things about the British. One, they don’t know shit about dentistry and two, they know how to crank out great bands. Now, it’s no secret that there have been numerous, great English bands. In fact, file that statement under “Duh.” But that list is incomplete. It is incomplete because it is missing The Subways. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “C’mon, M.C. This band is “bubblegum rock” crap. Exhibit A: their appearance on “The OC ““ Mix 5″ compilation.” And to that, I say “touché.” Hell, if that doesn’t shoot your credibility in the ass, I don’t know what does.

A British Dentist

The group, comprised of bass player/sometime vocalist Charlotte Cooper, guitarist/usual vocalist Billy Lunn and drummer, Josh Morgan, were initially discovered at an unsigned artist competition back in 2004. Snapped up shortly thereafter, the band hooked up with solid indie producer, Ian Broudie (Lightning Seed), and came away with this new gem, Young For Eternity.

Ello, luv. “˜Ow’s about you jump on the good foot and do the bad thing?

The album itself veers between extremes as the band presents both solid rockers, like the first single “Rock and Roll Queen” and “Oh Yeah,” and more subtle, softer tunes such as “Lines of Light” and the VERY Oasis-sounding, “No Goodbyes.”

Arguably, the most impressive aspect of this disc, to me, is the variety of sounds presented here. As a result of this, the band is exceedingly hard to categorize. Are they rockers? Sure. Are they a shoe-gazing, emo band? Sure. Do they like the Sex Pistols? Sure. Did they kinda rip off Oasis? Again… sure. Regardless, every song on the album shines in its own right and this is easily one of the best discs I have heard in quite some time. And the best part? It doesn’t sound like another weak attempt to capture the fad du jour. Good Stuff.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: Hotel Lights Album: Hotel Lights Bastard Love Child of: Ben Folds and Travis. Best for: Realizing that Dave Grohl wasn’t the only talented drummer over-shadowed by a talented front man.

How did Hotel Lights get in my mom’s basement?

Before we get started with this one, let me just say that yes, I know that this album came out in early March. I missed it. Jesus… get off my back already! So, why review it now? Simple. This album is absolutely AMAZING and I feel a burning need to tell you about it. Of course, that burning could also be the result of this weekend’s “bender,” where I woke up in an unknown motel room wearing nothing but pasties and a goatee that I didn’t grow.

If you are anything like me, and I’m sure you are, right about now, you are probably saying “Why would someone name a band “˜Hotel Lights?’” Good question, sparky. Here is a little quote I was able to dig up from founding member, Darren Jessee, former drummer for Ben Folds Five:

“…when you see hotel lights in the distance you feel like ‘yeah, I’m almost there’, but when you stand in the bathroom and turn on the hotel lights, they are fluorescent and you see every scar.” -Darren Jessee

Holy crap, Darren… sounds like Ben messed you up pretty good, eh? Seriously, Darren, tell me… do you have to cut yourself sometimes to let the darkness out?

Ben Folds… the bastard that broke Darren’s heart.

As I just mentioned, Hotel Lights is the creation of former Ben Fold’s drummer, Darren Jesse, who actually got his song writing start while playing for Ben. That’s right, friends, Darren is the man responsible for the mega-hit “Brick” and, my personal favorite, “Magic” from the Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner (Highly Recommended!). With this new band, Darren takes a more melancholy approach to song writing by over-laying his catchy melodies with heartfelt, angst riddled lyrics. Yes, you guessed it. NOT an album to play at your next rave. However, this IS the perfect album to have on in the car, or as background music for your next romantic encounter, or for when you feel the need to cut yourself to let the darkness out.

To round out the band and flush out his sound, Darren added former Archers of Loaf drummer Mark Price, producer/guitarist Al Weatherhead, Roger Gupton on bass and Chris Badger on keyboards. Together, these guys have managed to craft some low key, but incredibly impressive songs that I would argue hold up better than anything Ben Folds Five ever accomplished. This is a solid disc throughout, but the best song, and first single, “A.M. Slow Golden Hit,” is mesmerizing. I also really dig “Miles Behind Me,” “I Am A Train,” the Dylan-esque “Stumblin’ Home Winter Blues” and “What You Meant,” a song that blends acoustic guitar and synthesizer to great effect.

This is truly one of the best, albeit mellow, discs to come out this year, so far, hands down. Pick yourself up a copy.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: Blue October Album: Foiled Bastard Love Child of: Peter Gabriel and Nickelback… that one’s for you, Ryall! Best for: Helping you understand that some artists do their best work while totally and completely bat-shit, insane.

I’m pretty sure they are yelling something about wearing eye shadow to the photo shoot.

Much like my friend, Justin, I’m sitting here in my dippity-do room at the hospital, typing on the old tuna. They tell me that I recently had some kind of psychotic break, triggered by repeated listenings of John Tesh’s new album “Tunes From A Giant Forhead.” But how can I argue? I love tacos. Talking to the doctor, the one who looks like Dick Cheney, I came to the realization that I can only, truly, find my happy Plah-doh© place if I’m listening to singers who dance like Peter Gabriel. Crazy, huh? Yep, peanut butter! Find me one of those floating in the sky and I’m going to be happier than Michael Jackson on a NAMBLA-sponsored camping trip. Ever hear John Cusack play his raincoat to Kate’s Bush, I mean, Kate Bush? Whatever, porkchop… I will not hurt the nice people. But Peter Gabriel’s music, to me, is about as good as talking envelopes get. Uh oh… here comes the orange nurse with sleep in her hand. What’s that hairy nurse? Time for my pills? But I’m talking to my friend’s right now and I don’ttttttttttttttttttttttttttt…

Okay… back now… for a bit. Now where was I? Oh yeah… Peter Gabriel. So, right about now you are probably saying to yourself, “Holy shit, that was weird” and “Hey, that’s great, but what exactly does Peter Gabriel have to do with the dude, up there in the picture, wearing the latest from Mabeline’s “˜Trashy Club Whore’ collection?”
Well, I’ll tell you. See, first, Justin Furstenfeld, that guy up there with a mild case of “gender confusion,” had a little problem with “reality” and was “committed” to an “insane” asylum… like me. Who knew they could commit you for putting too much male nudity up on the internet? Unlike me, he is the lead singer for a hot new group, Blue October, and the dude sounds EXACTLY like Peter Gabriel. And no, I’m not hallucinating again or throwing that comparison around lightly. And yes, I am lucid enough now to know that I’ve said that before, like with the group Elbow, but this time I mean it… kinda like when I tell the girls I date that I’m only going to put it in for a minute and then take it right back out (And, yes, they are having me work through those “lying” issues in therapy, too). I defy you to listen to this band for more than 30 seconds, any song, and tell me that Justin doesn’t sound like a Gabriel clone. And no, junior, I don’t mean that in a bad way.

This is Blue October’s new poster warning of the dangers of auto-erotic asphyxiation.

I mean it in an “Oh my God, that crazy SOB created an AMAZING disc” way. I’ve always said, when it comes to musicians, and on-line music reviewers, “the wackier the better.” And if this is the kind of material that you can come up with while swatting at imaginary bugs and watching Judge Judy between sponge baths, then I’m all for it. Hell, if this is the kind of output you can have when you’re nuts, I might extend my stay a bit. After all, I get three squares a day here, all the drugs I can take, a free drool-bib and a nice spot down by the duck pond for when I get “too excited.” I’ve even had time to create a list of singers and artists I feel should be committed, too. First up? Easy. Brittany “Baby, You Can Drive My Car” Spears.

You want crazy? This chick is crazy.

Bat-shit insane, “cuckoo for Coco Puffs,” Looney as a Tune… whatever… Blue October (consisting of lead vocalist Justin, three or four random voices in his head, violinist/keyboardist Ryan Delahoussaye, drummer Jeremy Furstenfeld, guitarist CB Hudson and bassist Matt Novesky) has crafted a virtually perfect album. Pretty lofty statement, huh? No, I’m still not hallucinating… although I feel the pills wearing off and no, I’m not joking. This disc just surpassed Hotel Lights as my favorite to be released this year. Each and every song here is single-worthy, immediately recognizable, catchy, clever and most importantly, different in both tempo and mood. I know it sounds crazy, but I’m serious. It is truly phenomenal, with a little something for all the different voices in your head. I firmly believe that this is the album that will finally break this band… in a BIG way. You heard it hear first, pudding hand. Uh oh… fading fast… better wrap this up.
In addition to the first single, “Hate Me,” check out the pencil’s best songs, the melodic and moody “Into the Ocean” and the spank-tastic “X-Amount of Words.” You know, Timmy ate it, too, and he didn’t turn green so you should definitely know that it’s absolutely brilliant. Buy the whole disc and eat it on rye with a slice of pickle. That makes for one, delicious swimming pool!!!

Rating: 5 out 5

Artist: The Red Hot Chili Peppers Album: Stadium Arcadium Bastard Love Child of: Funkadelic and a tube sock. Best for: Rocking the socks off of your… er, cock.

That’s odd. That one guy’s not wearing a hat.

Well, considering that most of you have already purchased this amazing, 28-song, double disc, or will soon enough, I thought that I would devote this review space to my new, Chili Pepper’s inspired children’s book, The Cock in the Sock. So, without further ado, move over Dr. Seuss… here comes M.C. Bell:

One Pepper,

Two Pepper,

Three Pepper,

Four

The Red Hot Chili Peppers have come back for more.

They each washed a sock,

And plopped it on their cock,

And crafted a some albums that totally ROCK!

Socks? On Cocks?

Why, how can that be?

What do they do if they have to pee?

And how are they attached?

With a bow or with glue?

If they accidentally sit on them,

Are they covered in poo?

And how do those socks

Fit in their pants?

And do they get tangled

When the boys dance?

And sex, yes sex, what about sex?

Do they take off these socks when they go to have sex?

Or do they leave them on,

Like a long, winter coat?

Do these socks leave lint

In the back of the throat?

Well, I’ll tell you what, kids.

If it were up to me,

I’d take the sock off

When it was time to pee.

And I would attach it

With a drop of glue.

And I’d be careful when I sat

To avoid the poo.

And I would carefully fold it

To fit in my pants.

And keep it that way,

Even when I dance.

And in regards to sex, kids,

It’s simple and clear.

So lean in close,

That you may hear.

“I’ll rip that sock off!”

You gasp “What for?”

“Why, that’s the way all your mommies like it,

Cuz they’re dirty, dirty whores.”

Spunky, the cock puppet

Pretty good, huh? Honestly, the kid’s are gonna eat this shit up. Oh, and in regards to Stadium Arcadium? It really is as good as advertised. The album does a phenomenal job of bridging the Pepper’s career from punk/funk rockers to emotional balladeers, with my personal favorites being “Tell Me Baby,” “Hard to Concentrate,” “Charlie,” “21^st Century” and, of course, “Dani California.” In fact, there isn’t a crappy track on either disc. Good stuff, all the way around.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Artist: Muse Album: Black Holes and Revelations Bastard Love Child of: Radiohead and Queen. Best for: Discovering your own, personal muse. I found mine sitting at the end of a bar wearing a tube top, some acid-wash jeans and a “hicky.”

Black Holes and Revelations, huh? Here’s a revelation for ya’… before I picked up this album, completely at random, I had never heard of Muse. Not one song. Didn’t even know what type of music they played. Sure, I could have checked them out on any number of on-line music services, but where’s the excitement in that? I prefer to grab the bull by the balls… with my teeth, so to speak. But hey, that’s what I’m here for, people… to take bullets for you. Luckily, I didn’t have to on this album because it kicks ass. In fact, I have to say, I’m all over Muse like bad tattoos on Travis Barker.

Seriously, I dig the hell out of this disc. Each and every song stands out from the last and each is driven perfectly by the powerful voice of lead singer Matthew Bellamy. For instance, on the first single, the electronica-heavy “Supermassive Black Holes,” Bellamy hits notes that a pair of properly descended testicles just can’t produce. Then, just to prove that statement wrong, Bellamy drops into a throaty, Jeff Buckley impersonation on “Take a Bow.” Sneaky bastard.

The disc features a ton of electronic elements and quirky instrumention, all handled admirably by Bellamy, drummer Dominic Howard and bassist Chris Wolstenhome, but don’t get the wrong idea here. This is not an electronica album (see below). In fact, even though that first single reminds me of a shopping trip to Abercrombie & Fitch (the roomy shorts allow “the boys” a nice bit of breathing room, thank you very much), the album is largely guitar driven with that one track designed, with tongue firmly in check, to freak the shit out of long time fans. No other track on the disc is remotely like it.

If you are looking for an experimental, yet highly listenable and enjoyable album that will run the gamut from moody Depeche Mode (“Map of the Problematique”) to Bends-era Radiohead (“Soldiers Poem”) to classic Queen (“Knights of Cydonia”), check this one out. Top shelf, folks.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: Rose Hill Drive Album: Rose Hill Drive Bastard Love Child of: Led Zeppelin and Triumph (the band, not the insult comic dog). Best for: Proving that the Denver music scene actually has something “meaty” to offer.

I’ll be the first to admit that Denver (et al) is hardly a “musical hot spot” here in the U.S., ESPECIALLY when you compare it to places like L.A., Chicago, New York, Nashville or, umm… Dubuque. I mean, sure, we gave the world The Foggy Mountain Fuckers, Lying Bitch and the Restraining Orders and, of course, The Fray, who single-handedly caused the automobile-related instances of dry-humping, crazed fingerings and awkward oral in the teenage population to sky-rocket, but otherwise, we haven’t had a whole lot to offer the world, musically speaking. Until now.

Starting a few years back, there was a buzz around town centered on a hot, new power trio that was tearing up bars in and around their hometown of Boulder, Colorado. Named after the street where they grew up, Rose Hill Drive, featuring brothers Daniel (19) and Jake (21) Sproul on lead guitar and bass, respectively, and childhood bud, Nate Barnes (21), behind the kit, had quickly managed to become the “must-see” band in the Denver area. So see them I did. Twice. And let me tell you, friends… holy shit. I still get chills (and there multiplyin’… it’s electrifyin’!) thinking back to the first time I saw these boys play. Think: the intensity of live Zeppelin with the virtuoso performances of Rush… heady comparisons, I know, especially invoking the names of two of my all-time favorite bands, but I’m not joking. I hadn’t seen anything like it in quite some time.

Needless to say, I have been anxiously awaiting the release of this groups self-titled, debut album for some time now. And, after giving it a few, initial run-throughs, I gotta say… I’m a bit disappointed. Wait, wait… NOT in the way that you might think. This new disc is packed with an amazing array of songs that alternate between pure, driving, riff-laden rock anthems to bluesy, pure-toned ballads. Numerous songs on this disc, namely the album opener, “Showdown,” with it’s in-your-face guitar riff and the driving, “Raise Your Hands,” have an immediate and classic feel that will make you fully understand the Zeppelin reference above. On the contrary, this disc has shown a melodic sensibility and musical craftsmanship that I wouldn’t have expected from these “kids.”

And there in lies the rub. You see, as good as this disc is, (oh, and it IS good, nay, great) it does ZERO justice to the insane and blistering live shows that these guys put on. THAT is a crying shame. Sure, it’s hard to capture the type of energy that these guys put out on stage in a studio setting, but I’m betting that a more raw, less polished production would have served these guys better on this outing. Yes, I’m a nit-picky little bitch. Whatever. Luckily, with the recent resurgence of the classic rock sound and the success of bands like Wolfmother, Rose Hill Drive is destined for stardom and will undoubtedly have ample time to experiment with this notion next time out. Seriously, folks, I highly recommend this disc, but understand this… it pales in comparison to their live shows.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Artist: Iron Maiden Album: A Matter Of Life And Death Bastard Love Child of: Black Sabbath and King Crimson. Best for: Pumping up your “street cred” at the local Hot Topic by cruising in there with an ACTUAL concert shirt.

No… this is not a scene from Spinal Tap II. But it easily could be.

I’m not ashamed to tell you that, much like pubic hair, I came into Iron Maiden late. Then again, having Iron Maiden in my life has never made a “clean wipe” a challenge, so maybe that’s a bad comparison. Whatever. I guess my point here is that I never gave Iron Maiden’s music a fair shake until well into my college years; always dismissing them as a “poor man’s Sabbath.” Hey, fuck off. I never said I was a smart man, Jenny.

Needless to say, in the years since “my discovery,” I have actually become a big fan of the band, more so of the band WITH Dickinson, and have been anxiously awaiting the release of this, their 14^th studio album, A Matter Of Life And Death. So, right about now, you are probably asking yourself “was it worth the wait?” Well, chuckle nuts, I’m glad you asked.

My girlfriend… PMS-ing.

Quite simply, this is the best Maiden disc in years. Hell, I’d gladly argue that it is the strongest album that Maiden has released since the “˜80’s and it is EASILY one of the best metal discs I’ve heard this year. I mean, sure, the band is getting a little long in the tooth, but it doesn’t show in the music. Not in the least. Dickinson’s voice is as strong as ever and the impressive, 3-guitar attack of Dave Murray, Adrian Smith and Janick Gers delivers enough punch to make your sphincter tighten. I’m not sure what that really means… I just like the word “sphincter.”

The band has always had progressive leanings, but on this album, they lean a bit harder as they switch up tempos, keys and styles while galloping through the 10, epic songs on this 70+ minute disc. All of the songs are engaging with soaring melodies and catchier-than-usual choruses, but my personal favorites include the slow-burning The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg, the punishing Different World and the driving The Longest Day.

This album is a must-have for any fan of good, old-fashioned, ass-kicking metal.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Artist: Beck Album: The Information Bastard Love Child of: Beck’s Sea Change and Mellow Gold. Best for: Seeing what else Beck can do with two turn-tables and a microphone.

For those of you out there who went “old school” and picked up the actual CD of Beck’s new album, The Information, you know that in addition to the cheesy, home-made videos included for all of the songs, the disc comes with a “blank” cover and a bunch of stickers so that you can customize it to your liking. See that cover up there? Sure, that’s somebody’s vision of what the cover SHOULD look like. But it’s not MY vision. Au contraire, mon frere. I used those stickers to make my disc cover look like this…

Umm… need a mint?

Now, this may come as a surprise to some of you out there, but Beck is a weird, fucking little monkey. But you know? It is precisely that weirdness, coupled with tongue-in-check unpredictability, that makes his music so damn cool and so damn different that I couldn’t help but become a huge fan (just thought I’d put this critique into context for you. You’re welcome.) I mean, where else can you hear pop, hip-hop, country, folk, funk, experimental jazz, arcade bleeps and lounge music all on the same album? Nowhere, that’s where. Okay, maybe on a Bjork disc… whatever, smart ass.

As a fan of Beck Hanson, the one thing that I have come to expect from each, new album is something unexpected and, in that regard, this new disc actually disappoints a bit. However, in this case, that’s hardly a bad thing. Hearkening back to his Mellow Gold days, The Information revisits Beck’s more “eclectic” days, but wisely chooses to sprinkle in some of the melodic ballads found on more recent albums, most notably, Sea Change. The overall effect is mesmerizing. In fact, there are some tracks on this disc that represent some of the finest work Beck has ever done; a fact I attribute to the return of producer Niles Godrich (ever hear of a band called Radiohead?) and his spacey production style.

Highlights of the disc include the pop-synth perfection of “Soldier Jane”, the Primal Scream-invoking “Cellphone’s Dead” (check out “Loaded” from Screamadelica… good shit right there, my ecstasy-poppin’ little pals), “Strange Apparition” and my personal favorite, the trippy, moody “Dark Star.” There is a lot to like, nay, love, on this album, regardless of whether or not you’re a fan, but before you think I’m just jacking Beck off with long, slow strokes here, I gotta be honest with you. I absolutely LOATHE the song “1000bpm.” Okay, maybe I don’t loathe it, but I’m pretty sure that song, much like Mary Hart’s voice, gave me a seizure. Seriously. I remember hitting “play” on that track and then the next thing I know, I woke up on the floor with a sore tongue, foam in my mouth and shit in my pants. Of course, I suppose that might have been the Jaeger. But again, whatever.

So… do you rub her nose in it and smack her with a rolled up newspaper for doing that to the couch?

Rating: 5 out of 5.

Artist: Jeremy Enigk Album: World Waits Bastard Love Child of: Sunny Day Real Estate and and the sweet, angelic voice of a little baby Jesus. Best for: Taking a contemplative moment to wonder, “Seriously… What WOULD Jesus do?”

The fact that Jeremy Enigk is NOT a household name is one of the great tragedies of our modern times. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it is one of the signs of the Apocalypse… right between the whole “raining frogs” thing and Paris Hilton’s popularity. Oh, by the way, speaking of Paris, I guess you can “hire” her for a $100,000 to host your New Year’s Eve party. Hmm… I wonder if a video tape of you and her having awkward, fumbling sex later that night is included? Either way, I recommend pocketing the cash and spending the evening with a 1X6 with a blonde wig stapled to the top. The conversation will be more lively, the night more fun and the sex… about the same… umm, from what I’ve seen. But I digress.

Now, for the sake of those of you out there who have no frickin’, (yes, I just typed frickin’ in a vain attempt to “clean up my act”), clue as to who Jeremy Enigk is, let me briefly fill you in. He is the ethereal-voiced ex-lead singer of emo-core pioneers Sunny Day Real Estate (GREAT fucking band… yes, I just typed “fucking”… the attempt to clean up my act “didn’t take”), current lead singer of The Fire Theft (when he feels like it) and full-time, speakin’-in-tongues, rattlesnake-throwin’ Jesus freak. His favorite color is mauve, he has a Shitzu named Earl and he can break up a band faster than Yoko Ono. *Editor’s note: M.C. has no fucking clue what Jeremy’s favorite color is or if he even has a dog. He does, however, tend to break up his bands much like that evil harpy Yoko.*

Jeremy also happens to possess one of the most uniquely impressive voices that I have ever heard and his last effort with Sunny Day Real Estate, The Rising Tide, with it’s swelling orchestration, impressive guitar work and, of course, Jeremy’s tremendous vocal range, is easily in my top 25 and, I would argue, a “must own” album. And many of those same elements, minus the meaty guitar work of phenom Dan Hoener , are present on this new solo album, World Waits. However, without Dan, the album never quite kicks out of the more mellow-melodic groove of Jeremy’s work with The Fire Theft. No, this is not a bad thing. In fact, as the tracks on this overly short disc progress, fans of Jeremy’s work and any of it’s various iterations will easily recognize elements from Sunny Day’s Rising Tide or Diary and The Fire Theft disc. And this really kicks ass. For you non-fans? Hmm… honestly, for the uninitiated, I could see Jeremy’s, whinny-at-times timbre irritating the holy hell out of you. I would recommend that you pick up The Rising Tide first to get acclimated to his sound (and because you should own it) and in a friendlier (read: more accessible) environment. However, if you’re feeling adventurous and want a superb disc from an under-appreciated artist, grab a copy of World Waits and let it grow on you like a cold sore on Albert Pujols lip (Thanks HDTV!!). You won’t be disappointed.
To check out the best songs on the disc, minus the spooky-as-hell “Damien Dreams,” hit Jeremy’s MySpace page… www.myspace.com/jeremyenigk.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 (only because it’s too, damn short)

Well, folks, my fun meter is pegged so that’s going to do it for this time out and, actually, for the year. But stay tuned, friends, for we will be back after the first of the year with a new, streamlined, weekly column and an occasional podcast. It’s going to be a kick.

Until then, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!!

Send cheese graters, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:
M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

Welcome, friends, to another edition of Music for the Masses! How the hell you doing? Me? Why I’m happier than Rosie O’Donnell shopping for flannel shirts right now because I ABSOLUTELY love this time of year. That’s right, now that Thanksgiving has been kicked to the curb like O.J.’s book and T.V. deals, it’s time for me to turn my Attention Deficit Disorder to Christmas, that magical time of year where Christians exchange gifts to celebrate the birth of Santa Clause… or something like that. You know? I probably should have paid more attention in church but seriously, do you have any idea how hard it was to stay awake through that after chugging half a bottle of communion wine? It was all “Blah blah blah”… but I digress. In fact, friends, this year is better than most, because unlike Christmas’s past, I can actually sit back, relax and enjoy the season because my gift-shopping is complete. I shit you not. And do you know who I have to thank for this little miracle? Britney Spears.

In the uncensored pic, it looks like she’s holding a Cornish Rex Cat in her lap.

You see, usually, I’m beating my… umm, head against the wall in a vain attempt to jar loose “present ideas” for all of the “hard-to-shop-for” people in my family. But after seeing that picture of Britney messing up the seat of Paris’ car, I had perfect gift ideas for everyone.

For instance, I took one look at that picture and realized my father, much like Brittany, prefers a “clean, close shave.” So… BAM!!!… dad’s gift is the new Norelco shaver.

Another glance at the picture, between knuckle shuffles, and I think to myself “hmmm…  Aunt Selma could use some new, red drapes…

After a half an hour of staring at the picture, it dawns on me that my grandma needs something to cover her vulv… I mean, Volvo… to protect it from the elements…

Winters in Dubuque can be REALLY harsh. And just as I’m finishing, I think “Oh yeah, Uncle Nancy needs some new mud flaps for “˜his’ truck…”

See what I mean? And you thought I was joking. So say what you want about my little trailer park princess, but the only thing I can say is “Thank you, Brittany!” The world is truly a better place with you in it. Of course, your kid, the one you dropped, probably disagrees, but what the hell does he know? He’s retarded now. The only thing he knows is not to let you pick him up because “mommy gave him a metal plate in his head” and that every time you hit “START” on the microwave, he shits himself and runs into the wall.

But enough about all of that, folks. It’s time now to check out some new music! This week, we check in with a Beatles re-mix and Double A digs deep to check the latest offering from Prince Po. Plus, my 10-year-old nephew Jacob checks in with a review of the new one from +44. Should be fun. So, what do you say? Let’s get to it, shall we??!!

Artist: The Beatles Album: LOVE Bastard Love Child of: George Martin and LSD Best for: Realizing that these 40ish-year-old songs sound better than 98% of the shit being released today.

As I’ve explained to you folks, previously, I love the Beatles… have ever since I was a wee-lad. In fact, while all my friends where out “getting fresh air” and playing the “sports,” I was holed up in my room listening to my dad’s original Beatles albums. Yes, I was a lonely child. Now, what I don’t love is Cirque De Soliel. Not because of the beautiful choreography, mind-boggling stunts and haunting music, but more so because I’m not a big fan of watching ambiguously gay French guys bench pressing each other. Call me “silly pants,” but that’s just the way I roll. I also eat hot dogs with a knife and fork, but I digress… again. So, when I heard that Cirque De Soliel’s new production was going to incorporate the music of the Beatles, I thought, “Wow… wonder what “stunt” they’ll perform for “˜Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?’” and then I didn’t give it another thought.

That is, until this weekend, when I picked it up at the recommendation of a friend (Thanks, Ken!!) and after listening to the Audio DVD in 5.1 sound, mixed and mastered from the original, 4-track recordings, I gotta say… “HOLY SHIT!! This is an amazing disc!” First and foremost, it sounds fucking incredible. As I noted, that 5.1 mix will blow your mind and I will state, right now for the record (no pun intended), the Beatles have never sounded better on disc. George Martin’s formidable production abilities have never been more vividly on display and his work here with son, Giles, is mesmerizing. In keeping with the spirit of the Beatles, tracks have been reversed, sped up and slowed down, but all of it is original. I take that back… there is ONE “new” track… a string arrangement that George Martin composed to accompany an acoustic version of “While My Guitar Gentle Weeps.” Absolutely brilliant.

Now, fans of the early work will argue that the song selection here is skewed in favor of the band’s more psychedelic material and that song’s like “Octopus’s Garden” and “Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!” shouldn’t be focal points of the disc, but like Lance Bass playing butt darts with his boyfriend, you’re just “splitting hairs.” Sure, the tracks that get the most attention (read: that you hear the most of) are from later discs, but with all that is going on here in between and within the songs themselves LOVE actually does a hell of a job sampling the band’s entire career. If you are evenly REMOTELY a fan of this band, this is an absolute must-have and rest assured, you’ve never heard the Beatles quite like this. And oddly enough, after listening to this disc, I now have a new-found admiration for the work of Cirque de Soliel. So, if you’ll excuse me… I have to go put on a cod-piece and do some push-ups.

Rating: 5 out of 5

As I was walking through my local record store, looking for something to review this week, I was perplexed. There was absolutely nothing that I wanted to even listen to. I picked up the Best of Cee-Lo album, but put it down. I don’t mind Cee-Lo, but this album didn’t interest me. I saw The Game sitting on the shelf, and I had opted out of it last week, but it just doesn’t seem to be my speed. Eminem? Hell no. Not even if it were to save my grandmother from being beaten about the face and head by angry men wielding monkey wrenches. Wow, that was a little harsh, wasn’t it? But seriously, fuck Eminem. I’ve heard good things about the Bidman/Lil Wayne album, but again, it just didn’t interest me. But then, as I reached to put back the Birdman disc, I noticed something. It was Prince Po’s Prettyblack. Now to be fair, this album came out a little bit ago, but with the dredge of shit that has come out lately, anything would be better than the options that I was presented with. So I got it, and I’m pretty glad that I did.

Prettyblack is by no means the best rap album to come out this year, but it is light years beyond anything that has come out in recent weeks. The only thing that I’ve ever heard from Prince Po is the song “Copy Cats,” from quite possibly the best rap album ever, Danger Mouse and Jemini’s Ghetto Pop Life. Listening to Prettyblack, the vocal styling’s that made “Copy Cats” a great song on a great disc are all there. Unfortunately, the beats suffer a little. On almost every track, the beats are flat with little variation through the course of the song. I’m not saying that the beats are bad, they’re not, just a little stagnant. The rhymes do more than their part to bring the production up a notch.

One thing that separates this album from a lot of other rappers work is this disc doesn’t feel the need to bring in big, flashy stars to flesh out a weak song. There are a few guest stars on this album, but not a single one that I’ve heard of. But even on the tracks with a guest, Po is front and center, doing his thing on his disc. The best song on the album is “Creep On It” with a nice little bump-iness that’ll get you moving, and Po’s clever lyrics flow with the beat like they are peanut butter and jelly. Or, for those of you who are morbidly obese and aren’t constantly thinking about food, the beat and raps go together like handcuffs and faux fur. Does that simile make sense? Maybe?

Like I said, this isn’t the best rap disc out there, but it is a hella good one. Before you go out and spend your hard earned money on some of the other crap that is clogging the shelves these days, pick this one up. Now, I’m going to go get me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich because I’ve got to keep up my girlish figure.

Rating: 4 out of 5

REVIEWS BY. . .

Jacob Montana Bell
Des Moines, IA

My CD review is about a CD by the band that used to be Blink 182 but isn’t anymore because two guys from blink 182 made a new CD that I like a lot but not as much as “Ben 10″ on Cartoon Network. I like the songs on this CD and they are really good songs and they make me feel like jumping up and down and sometimes they make me want to hit my sister but my dad yells at me when I do that and I don’t like to get into trouble.

My dad says Blink 182 used to be good but then they got wussie and should be on that show “Will and Grace” but I don’t know any Blink 182 and I think that +44 is good no matter what my dad says. He says to go get him a beer and that everyone can think what they want and that is what makes America good and I think Macaroni and Cheese makes America good but my dad says that doesn’t make sense which makes my heart sad.

The best song on the album is the one with the guitars and the drums and goes “when your heart stops beating” or something like that because sometimes it’s hard to hear. My mom told me not to listen to the music too loud because I might mess up my ears but when she leaves dad lets me turn it up as loud as it will go and sit right in front of the speakers. He says that is called rocking out and he tells his friends sometimes that he likes to rock out with his cock out and he doesn’t think that I hear that but I do and one time when I said it my mom made me eat some soap. There are some slow songs on this CD that are really good but not as much fun to rock out to but I don’t care because the singer does good singing and my second favorite song on the CD is “Baby Come on” and I also like “Make You Smile” and “Little Death.” The song “115” and “Lillian” are not very good but “Weatherman” and “Chapter 13″ are good and I don’t remember the names of the other songs but I like them and they are good sometimes.

This CD is good and I would tell all my friends in Mrs. Johnson’s third grade class to make their parents get it for them.

UPCOMING RELEASES:

As a public service to you fine folks out there, I’ll be posting the upcoming CD releases going forward. Be careful though, friends, there are a lot of turds in the toilet, if you know what I mean. . .

Dec. 12	AGRESSOR	DEATHREAT
Dec. 12	ALBERTI, ALEJANDRA	ALEJANDRA ALBERTI
Dec. 12	ANTAEUS	BLOOD LIBEL
Dec. 12	AUFGEHOBEN	MESSIDOR
Dec. 12	BENNETT, TONY	AN AMERICAN CLASSIC
Dec. 12	BIG TUCK	THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH
Dec. 12	BUDDHA-BAR	BUDDHA-BAR TEN YEARS
Dec. 12	BUSHWICK BILL	LITTLE BIG MAN
Dec. 12	CAURAL	MIRRORS FOR EYES (2XLP)
Dec. 12	CONTRIVA	SEPERATE CHAMBERS
Dec. 12	CURRENT 93/OM	INERRANT RAYS OF INFALLIBLE SU
Dec. 12	DAHL, IAN VAN	JUST A GIRL
Dec. 12	DIAMOND, NEIL	12 SONGS
Dec. 12	DREY, JENNA	BY THE WAY
Dec. 12	EMINEM	EMINEM PRESENTS: THE RE-UP
Dec. 12	ENTRANCE	PRAYER OF DEATH
Dec. 12	FANTASIA	FANTASIA
Dec. 12	GHOSTFACE KILLAH	MORE FISH
Dec. 12	GIDDY MOTORS	DO EASY
Dec. 12	GORELORD	NORWEGIAN CHAINSAW MASSACRE
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	ANTICHRIST
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	INCIPIT SATAN
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	PENTAGRAM
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	TWILIGHT OF THE IDOLS
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	UNDER THE SIGN OF HELL
Dec. 12	GORGOROTH	DESTROYER
Dec. 12	HICKS, TAYLOR	TAYLOR HICKS
Dec. 12	JAY-Z	KINGDOM COME
Dec. 12	JIMMY LEVINE	SHARE MY LOVE
Dec. 12	KARMA	LATENIGHT DAYDREAMING
Dec. 12	KNIGHT, FERN	MUSIC FOR WITCHES AND ALCHEMISTS
Dec. 12	K-THE-I???	BROKEN LOVE LETTER
Dec. 12	LOVELY FEATHERS	MY BEST FRIEND DANIEL
Dec. 12	MARY J. BLIGE	REFLECTIONS – A RETROSPECTIVE
Dec. 12	MIRRORS	13 PATIENT FLOWERS
Dec. 12	MONGIL, MANOLO	VIVO
Dec. 12	NECROPHAGIA	SLIT WRISTS AND CASKET ROT
Dec. 12	NECROPHAGIA	SEASON OF THE DEAD
Dec. 12	NOVY, TOM	IBIZA SESSIONS VOL.2 (2XCD)
Dec. 12	ORIGINAL HAMSTER	TRENDSETTER AND THE FOLLOWERS
Dec. 12	OST	REST STOP DEAD AHEAD
Dec. 12	REINA	ON MY OWN
Dec. 12	SONIC YOUTH	The Destroyed Room: B Sides and Singles
Dec. 12	TAHA, RACHID	DIWAN 2
Dec. 12	TYRESE	ALTER EGO
Dec. 12	YOUNG JEEZY	THE INSPIRATION
Dec. 12	VA	MARY ANNE HOBBS WARRIOR DUBZ
Dec. 12	VA	CHARLOTTE’S WEB
Dec. 12	VA	BRAZILIAN BEATS BROOKLYN (2XLP)
Dec. 12	VARIOUS	BEST OF DA BAY
Dec. 12	VARIOUS	ERAGON: MUSIC FROM THE MOTION PICTURE
Dec. 12	VARIOUS	THE COVENANT
Dec. 19	AGUILERA, CHRISTINA	HURT
Dec. 19	ALARM CLOCKS	THE TIME HAS COME
Dec. 19	BLACK JAK	PLACE YOUR BETS
Dec. 19	BOW WOW	THE PRICE OF FAME
Dec. 19	BROOKLYN LOBSTER	BROOKLYN LOBSTER
Dec. 19	DJ Clue	THE PROFFESSIONAL III
Dec. 19	DO OR DIE	HEADZ OR TAILZ
Dec. 19	GOJOGO	ALL IS FAIR
Dec. 19	GRAND HUSTLE PRESENTS	IN DA STREETZ, VOL. 4
Dec. 19	HARRY PERRY BAND	VIDEO COMMANDER
Dec. 19	JERRY LEE LEWIS	ROCKIN’ WITH THE KILLER
Dec. 19	NAS	HIP HOP IS DEAD
Dec. 19	PACK , THE	SKATEBOARDS 2 SCRAPERS (CD ENHANCED)
Dec. 19	RBD	REBELS
Dec. 19	SLAYER	CHRIST ILLUSION
Dec. 19	STYLES P	TIME IS MONEY
Dec. 19	SUGARCUBES	THE COMPLETE STUDIO ALBUMS
Dec. 19	TRICK DADDY	BACK BY THUG DEMAND
Dec. 19	Soundtrack	Blood Diamond (James Newton Howard)
Dec. 19	Soundtrack	Night At The Museum (Alan Silvestri)
Dec. 19	Soundtrack	We Are Marshall (Christophe Beck)
Dec. 19	Various Artists	Juke Joint Soul!
Dec. 19	Various Artists	The Flow Volume 2
Dec. 19	Various Artists	Variety
Dec. 19	Various Artists	Variety Volume 2
Dec. 19	Various Artists	Massive Dub (2 CD)
Dec. 19	Various Artists	The Ultimate 50’s Collection
Dec. 19	Various Artists	Chicano Riders At The Park [Enhanced CD]

Well, folks, that’s going to do it for me and the gang this week, so… until next time… keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send your homo-erotic work out regimen, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hello, friends! Welcome to a special “Turkey Day” edition of “Music for the Masses.” First things first… Happy Thanksgiving everybody!! Having fun yet? If your household is anything like the Bell household, and I’m sure it’s EXACTLY like mine, you are just now beginning to remember that Thanksgiving is that one, “magical” time of the year where we gather our family and friends into one, tight-fitting location to firmly re-establish each and every dysfunction. Okay, maybe not every dysfunction… hell, for the Bell’s to cover everything we would need to extend Thanksgiving by a couple of days… a week, at the most. You’re also remembering that Thanksgiving is a time to dust off and celebrate your proud family traditions. For me, those “proud family traditions” include an under-cooked turkey, a fully cooked bag of “innards” inside said turkey (I get the neck!!), a gin-soaked grandmother telling jokes that would make a sailor blush (where the hell does she hear this shit?), a bathroom that smells like somebody killed a skunk in a French morgue after one of grandpa’s “movements” and, of course, my “uncle” showing up, “dressed to the nines” and looking like a reject from a bad Baz Luhrmann film. Good times… good times.

My Uncle Nancy

Yep, as you can probably guess, I’m glad that “Thanksgiving at the Bell’s,” much like a married man, only comes once a year. However, lest we forget, Thanksgiving isn’t just a “frying pan to the face” reminder of just HOW fucked up a family can be when assembled under one roof. It’s also a time for one to give thanks to… well, to whatever the hell it is you’re thankful for. Personally, I’m thankful for lots of things. For instance, I’m thankful that Michael Jackson now lives in Ireland, where, one assumes, he is trying to determine if young Irish boys are “magically delicious.”

I’m thankful for Kevin Federline’s “talent” and Brittany’s parenting skills and the many hours of laughter those two have brought me. I’m thankful for Pearl Jam fans and the numerous and colorful ways they told me to go fuck myself when I made fun of their “favorite” band awhile back. I’m thankful for the cookouts I attended at Reverend Ted Haggard’s house this summer. Say what you will about the man, but let me tell you this… he is an absolute magician with those wieners!!

I’m thankful that I’ve never met Dateline reporter Chris Hansen. I’m thankful for internet porn sites that have shown me the glory of the Cleveland Steamer, the Rusty Trombone, “ATM,” “Cream Pies,” Bukaki and Brazilian Fart Porn (yes, sadly, that really exists). I’m thankful to Paris Hilton for showing the world that you don’t need talent to be famous. I’m thankful that I was never an alter boy thus denying a Catholic priest a chance to size up my anus with his index finger. In that regard, I guess I’m also thankful I was never in the Boy Scouts. I’m thankful for Don Julio Tequila® and its ability to turn this…

Into this. . .

But you know what I’m most thankful for? Why, I’m most thankful for you, dear reader, and your enormous capacity for putting up with all my bullshit for the past year. All ten of you are the ABSOLUTE best and I’d give each and every one of you a giant kiss right this very minute, but I got this sore-thing on my lip and… well… you know.

But enough about all of that. It’s time now to check out some new music! We’re keeping it short this week as I take a quick look at the soundtrack to the new Tenacious D movie and Double A fires up the latest from Snoop Dogg. Plus, we provide another opportunity for aspiring artists to “Pimp Their Band.” Should be fun. So, what do you say? Let’s get to it, shall we??!!

Artist: Tenacious D Album: The Pick of Destiny Bastard Love Child of: Ronnie James Dio and Frank Zappa Best for: Rockin’ Your Fuckin’ Socks Off!!!

A long ass fuckin’ time ago,

In a town called Kickapoo.

There lived a humble family

Religious through and through.

But nay there was a black sheep

And he knew just what to do.

His name was young J.B.

And he refused to step in line.

A vision he did see-eth

Fuckin’ rockin’ all the time.

He wrote a tasty jam

And all the planets did align. . .

-from the opening track, “Kickapoo”

I don’t know about you, but I cannot wait to see this movie. In fact, just the thought of seeing it makes me more euphoric than Lindsay Lohan with a belly full of pills and an arm-full of knife wounds. Sure, some of the things I saw in an early trailer at Comic-Con this year and some of the things I’ve heard regarding the movie (especially the whole “flying Sasquatch” thing) are fucking bizarre even by Tenacious D standards, but, regardless, I’m confident that if anybody can pull it off, it’s Jack Black and Kyle Gass. They always do. After all, they’re fucking rock gods…

Seriously. I LOVE the “D” and their first studio album with its blend of humor and acoustic “folk metal” is absolutely brilliant. In fact, I shit you not when I say that it is one of my all time favorite discs. If you don’t have it yet, buy it. Now. Go ahead… I’ll wait. “Kielbasa Sausage… your butt checks is warm.” Pure gold. I’m also confident that the new movie will be absolutely brilliant, but after giving the accompanying soundtrack more than enough time to grow on me, I gotta say… this is not a disc befitting the “Greatest Band in the World.”

For those of you playing along at home, all of the elements that made the first disc so damn entertaining are present here: JB’s surprisingly impressive voice, KG’s surprisingly nimble guitar work and liberal rhyming of the words “cock” and “rock.” Unfortunately, none of these elements are given sufficient time to shine and too much of the disc’s RIDICULOUSLY short running time is spent flushing out the plot of the movie… which, as I’ve already noted, most of us haven’t seen. I gotta ask, guys… what the fuck?? Why the hell release it a week and half before the movie? WHY??!! I haven’t seen a gross miscalculation on this scale since Michael Richards sparred with some hecklers. What I’m trying to say here is that the end result is a choppy and, perhaps more surprisingly, largely unfunny disc. I’m guessing that when paired with the movie, this soundtrack is going to prove frickin’ (yes, frickin’) hilarious but until then, and as a stand alone disc, it just falls flat.

“D” fans deserve more and, I’m confident, we will eventually get it. Unfortunately, now is not the time.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

Snoop Dogg’s “Glamour Shots®?”

You remember Pee Wee’s Playhouse? You remember how every show started off with Pee Wee going to his robot Conky and finding out the secret word for the day? If Pee Wee had been listening to The Blue Carpet Treatment by Snoop Dogg, the secret word would have been “Boring.” Either that or “Collapsible Baton,” but that’s a joke for a whole other criminal trial. I didn’t have that high of hopes, no pun intended, for this disk. I was never a huge Snoop fan, but I have bumped his tunes several times in the past. That’s what makes this album all the more disappointing. I like they guy, I just don’t like this album. Hopefully me saying this wont force Snoop to come after me with the aforementioned “Collapsible Baton.” Well, not the same baton he tried to smuggle on that plane. I’m guessing that one got confiscated, but I would assume Snoop has two or three back-ups. He seems like that kind of person. But I digress.

Like I said, this album is just flat-out-boring. I have listened to it several times and I cannot recall anything that stands out. I’m even listening to it as I write this, and besides the song that’s on, I can’t tell you a thing about this disk. Well, that’s not entirely true, but I’m trying to prove a point here. If I were to choose another word to describe this album, it would be “lazy.” Snoop, to me, has always been all about “being different than everyone else.” From his lyrical stylings to his delivery, no one else on the scene sounds quite like Snoop. While this album is still very “Snoop,” the flashy raps are gone. All the lyrics here are stale, stale, stale… kinda like Snoop just needed money to keep himself in “the weed.”

Nothing on this album stands out. Okay… if you were to twist my arm, or threaten me with a collapsible baton, I would say that the song “Candy (Drippin’ Like Water)” is the best on the disk, but even that’s stretching it. Filled with guest stars like E-40, MC Eiht, Daz and Kurupt, this song should be a good one. Unfortunately it falls just as flat as the others. With so many good guest stars on the album, Dr. Dre, B-Real, R. Kelly, The Game, Jaime Foxx, you would think that there would be something to go on here. Come on Snoop! You have R. Kelly on this album! At least put some rhymes on there about peeing on underage girls! Well, if anything, at least I got to make several jokes about Snoop and his “collapsible baton.”

R. Kelly

Rating: 1 out of 5

BAND OF THE WEEK!!!!

You know? In addition to MySpace being a GREAT place to meet a Dateline reporter. . .

it’s also a great place to check out some new and/or unsigned artists. To honor these individuals and their art, I thought it would be cool to feature a band here each time out, sans any remarks or comments from yours truly. Consider this your place to shine. If you want you or your band featured here, just drop me a line. Up this week…

Steel Loaded

Waco, TX

www.myspace.com/steelloaded or www.steelloaded.com

Band Members:

Brian: Vocals and Guitar

Taylor: Lead Guitar

Kevin: Bass

Rance: Drums

Upcoming Shows: Waco’s “Battle of the Bands Finals” (Graham’s on 11/29/06)

CD Available? Yes… “You Don’t Know Me”

Band’s Bio: ” Since my early childhood years, it has been a dream of mine to one day have or play in a slamming rock band. I got my first electric guitar at age 6. By the 5th grade I was trying to get something going.

It wasn’t easy being a 5th grader and trying to find a group of guys to jam with. This is when I met Kevin Knox (better known as “Big Kev”). He quickly became a good friend and a really good bass player. The next big thing that happened came when we met Rance Northern.

Me and Big Kev were invited by Rance’s dad to a Christmas party at their house in 2004. We were told to bring all of our equipment because we were going to rock out that night. Rance played the drums all night. I always knew he could play but it just blew us away! We knew right then we had found our drummer and quickly began practicing regularly and learning cover songs and things like that.

All this time we are getting anxious for find a “kick ass” singer so we started letting our friends sit in and they sounded ok but we all wanted something better. Big Kev saved the day for us when he invited Brian Courtney to come and watch us play and sing a song or two. Kevin told us that Brian could sing and play the guitar. We were ready to listen.

So, next things next, we are at the “jam pad” and all these people are around listening to us play. We started playing “Creep” by the Stone Temple Pilots and Brian grabbed the microphone. WE WERE SHOCKED!!! Everbody in the room was like “Oh Hell Yea!!!….this guy has to be your new singer!

By March of 2005, STEEL LOADED was officially formed. So Let’s get JAMMING!!!”

—Taylor Williams

Message from the band: October 2006: Steel Loaded is back in the studio again. They are working on a 5 song demo with all new songs! It will be finished sometime in early 2007.

Be sure to check them out!!!

Well, folks, that’s going to do it for me and the gang this week, so. . .until next time… keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send your left-over turkey necks, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!!

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hola, mi amigos!! Que pasa¿! Me? Why I’m happier than Reverend Ted Haggard with a mouthful of male prostitute. Seriously. And just like Rev. Haggard, I feel it safe to warn you that I’m about to come. . .to a realization that I have an addiction. No, not to cock. . .not that there’s anything wrong with that. You see, it’s just that I gave that up after leaving the Sig Eps (yeah, “brothers,” I got your “Elephant Walk” right here) and during the last couple of weeks, I’ve come to the realization that I absolutely LOVE. . .umm, political attack ads. I’m shooting straight with you here, people. With all of those half-baked accusations, exaggerations and out-right lies. . .shit, those commercials are like little, verbal, 30-second, no-holds-barred UFC cage matches. Light on substance, heavy on the slams. Or, for you EXTRA!! fans out there. . .30-second, commercial equivalents of Paul McCartney’s and “Hop-a-Long” Heather Mills’ divorce. Televised crack, I tell ya’!

Wait a minute. . .after looking at this picture, I, too, now have one, “wooden leg.” Yes. . .I’m going to hell. If you laughed at that, I’ll save you a seat.

I love these little bits of nasty sooo much, I want to see more of “˜em. In fact, I want to see them so much, (and because I already miss them), I’ve actually decided to put Double A’s position as a “Rap Reviewer” up for vote just so you fine folks (oh, all right. . .myself included) can see a couple more of these attack ads. That’s right, Double A. . .guess you shouldn’t have made fun of my Afghan blanket collection. My Nanna knitted those, you fucker. Mmm hmmm. . .a pink, yellow and blue “binky” ain’t so funny now, is it?

So anyway, as I was saying, the position of Rap Reviewer here at Music for the Masses is now, officially, up for grabs. That’s right, friends, I’m leaving the decision up to you. Here are your candidates. . .in one corner, weighing in at a bouncy 360 lbs., you have the incumbent, the man who finds the “rap” in “crap”, Double-“Wide” A. In the other corner. . .the challenger, weighing in at a meaty 98 lbs. and hailing from the “un-official” home of rap, Council Bluffs, IA; a candidate hand-picked by yours truly after I spotted him buying a 50 Cent CD at a local Tower “Gowing Out of Business Sale,” dressed in baggy, skater shorts, an Allen Iverson jersey and an all-white, NY Yankees hat with a straight brim. . .the “Crusher”. . .Jimmy “Hat” Rathmore. What do you say? Let’s get to know our candidates. How you ask? Why, the same way you most likely got to know YOUR local, political candidates. . .through good, old-fashioned, attack ads. Up first, Jimmy Rathmore. . .

FADE IN TO PICTURE OF A PARADE IN PROGRESS

VOICE OVER (ISAAC HAYES): “Double A wants to rain on yo’ parade.”

CUT TO PICTURE OF WHEATIESâ„¢

VOICE OVER (ISAAC HAYES): “Double A wants to shit in yo’ Wheatiesâ„¢”

CUT TO PICTURE OF A BIRTHDAY CAKE

VOICE OVER (ISAAC HAYES): “Double A wants to take away yo’ Birf’day. . .

CUT TO A PICTURE OF A PUPPY AS SCREEN TURNS RED

VOICE OVER (ISAAC HAYES): “Double A likes to kick puppies.”

FADE TO A PICTURE OF JIMMY AND HOLD

FADE IN MUSIC: “GANGSTA’S PARADISE”

VOICE OVER (ISAAC HAYES): “But NOT Jimmy Rathmore. . .he ain’t frontin’, playa’, like Double A. Double A don’t know shit about rap and you know what else? His momma’s a ho’. That’s right, Double A’s momma is such a ho’, they made her the dock in Dick Town. But not Jimmy’s. His momma is a real sweet piece o’ ass. In fact, I’m gonna hit that right after I finish readin’ his commercial here. Mmm hmm. . .Where was I? Oh yeah. . .Jimmy’s the real deal. He owns all 48 of Tu-Pac’s discs, you know, the ones released after his death? Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. 3 of his shirts are RocaWear®, his Adidas® are old school and he’s just workin’ at McDonald’s® until he can save up enough money to buy those turn-tables. Oh yeah. . .and his bling? Pure sterling silver, baby. That’s how Jimmy rolls. One more thing, children, unlike that punk-ass bitch Double A, Jimmy’s all about education. He’ll teach your kids how to flash a gang sign, hold a spray paint can when taggin’ and how to draw a sweet-ass pair of scissors. . .

FADE IN PICTURE

Fo’ keepin’ it bizzy up in the hizzy, the choice is clear. Tell Double A you don’t want none of that and vote Jimmy “Hat.”

CUT TO PICTURE OF JIMMY

VOICE OVER (JIMMY RATHMORE): “I’m Jimmy “Hat” Rathmore and I approved this message, bitch.”

And now, Double A’s ad. . .

FADE IN TO A SERENE IMAGE OF A MAJESTIC MOUNTAIN

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): In this climate of insecurity, it is nice to know that some things will never change. The sky will always be blue, Rosie O’Donnell will never be funny and Double A will continue to stand up for the little guys. Music for the Masses needs a consistent voice, one that has been down in the trenches, buying the shit that you shouldn’t. James Rathmore says that he knows rap. That he’s a “fan” of rap.

FADE TO BLACK

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): Jimmy Rathmore says he knows rap?

CUT TO PICTURE OF MC HAMMER

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): Fact! Rathmore owns all 6 of MC Hammer’s albums, including the rare, un-released album “Oh Hell, I’m Broke.” He also has the entire album “To the Extreme” by Vanilla Ice. . .memorized.

CUT TO PICTURE OF LOTION

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): Fact! Rathmore thinks that N.W.A. stands for “Now With Aloe,” just like his favorite brand of lotion. Lotion that he uses to masturbate with because he’s too much of a punk bitch to get a girlfriend.

CUT TO PICTURE OF PUPPIES TINTED RED

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): Fact! While Double A has kicked his fair share of puppies in the past, at least he has never thought about having sex with one. Rathmore has. A lot.

CUT TO VIDEO OF THE FLAG WAVING IN THE WIND

VOICE OVER (JAMES EARL JONES): If you elect James Rathmore to write your rap reviews, all you will ever get are reviews of the latest Eminem mixtape that he made for his friend “Smokey.” Also, if you elect Rathmore, he will come have sex with your dog. Double A wont. You can count on it.

CUT TO PICTURE OF DOUBLE A

VOICE OVER (DOUBLE A): What it is, bitches? This is Double A and I approved this ad.

There you have it, folks. Now, it’s up to you so. . .ROCK THE VOTE!!!! Just drop me an email, at the link below, and help support democracy by casting your vote for your favorite candidate.

But enough about all of that. It’s time now to check out some new music. In this edition of Music for the Masses, we take a look at the new one from the Who, Endless Wire, the music of Warren Miller’s new movie, Off the Grid, and we provide another chance for you aspiring artists out there to “Pimp Your Band.” Should be fun. So, what do you say? Let’s get to it, shall we??!!

Artist: The Who Album:Endless Wire Bastard Love Child of: The Who when all 4 members were alive and The Who now where only 2 of them are. Best for: Realizing how much I miss John Entwhislte.

You know, I’m only half joking when I tell you that I fully expect to tune in to Dateline’s “To Catch a Predator” some night and see Chris Hansen asking Pete Townsend “So tell me, Pete. . .what are you doing here? What were you planning on doing with this 13-year old girl?” And, if this ever happens, I fully expect Pete to answer “I wanted to teach her how to work me whammy bar.” Then he’ll make a break for the front door and get tackled in the lawn by a couple of D.C.’s “fattest and finest.”

For those of you scratching your head out there going “WTF, M.C.?” because you’re not “in the know,” a few years back, Townsend was charged with having kiddie-porn, “worm-burpin’” material on his personal computer. No. . .I’m not making that up. Granted, these charges were later dropped, but that shit sticks with you and I’ll be damned if every fucking (yes, fucking) time I hear the Who’s “Pinball Wizard,” I don’t change the lyrics to. . .”Ever since I was a young boy, I liked to play with balls. From Soho down to Brighton, I must have played them all.” And good lord, I haven’t even told you about one of the lyrics on this new disc. But we’ll get to that in a minute.

Now, regardless of the validity of Townsend’s sexual appetites, I consider myself a pretty big fan of the Who’s music and I was really looking forward to getting my hands on this new one, Endless Wire. Their first disc of new material since 1982’s It’s Hard? Easy money, my friends. Easy money. Of course, as many of you know, with great anticipation can come great disappointment and after listening to this disc, I’m disappointed. Allow me to explain. If you are a hard core fan of the Who, you are going to love this album, even if it is, more or less, a glorified Pete Townsend solo disc along the lines of 1993’s Pyschoderelict, simply because it is a new disc. The fact that Daltry adds his gracefully aging voice to the proceedings makes it easier to swallow as a “Who disc,” but let’s not kid ourselves. This is not the same Who, deaths aside, that created enough quality material to prompt Syrius Satelite to give them their own channel and this is not the album that we’ve been waiting for. It’s not complete shit, and, again, it IS new Who for crying out loud, but this is Pete. . .pushing the envelope and experimenting. . .again. To paraphrase Michael’s line from The Godfather II, “You broke my heart, Pete. . .you broke my heart. Hey. . .wanna go fishing?”

And that brings us to the “casual” Who fan. They’re going to absolutely hate this disc. Know why? Because they’re going to grab this disc wanting to hear something familiar from this iconic band and aside from a tricked-up nod to the opening of “Baba O’Riley,” they ain’t gonna get it. What they ARE going to get is a hook-less song about religion, “Man in the Purple Dress,” a disjointed mini-opera (“Wire & Glass”) that is more unevenly spaced than the eyes of a Special Olympian and, due to the kiddie-porn allegations, one of the creepiest lyrical lines you’ll ever here. . .”Why can’t they see that life excites me/This boy ignites me” (“Trilby’s Piano”). *SHUDDER* Put it back in your pants, Pete. . .for fuck’s sake.

I’m still holding out hope that, even without Entwhistle, we’ll get another classic Who disc, but sadly, this isn’t it. Unless you are a hard core, and I mean hard core, fan, save your money.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5

WARREN MILLER’S OFF THE GRID

There are a ton of reasons why it’s cool to live in Colorado but chief among them are that all of the women here look exactly like this. . .

. . .on your 21^st birthday, the government sends you a giant block of cheese. . .

. . .and, most importantly, you learn to ski at a young age. . .

I realize that for some of you out there, skiing is that thing that Sonny Bono was doing just prior to head-butting that tree, but for me and a shit-load of others here in Colorado, it’s a religion. . .sans all the alter boy “mouth hugging” and “butt-fiddling.” And if skiing is the religion, then without a doubt, Warren Miller is our favorite preacher. “Why’s that?” you ask. Well, you see, Warren Miller has been preaching the gospel of skiing and cranking out amazing ski films for the past 57 years and for those same 57 years, the faithful have gathered, just prior to the start of the ski season, to watch Warren’s latest opus and to get psyched up for hitting the slopes. For some, it’s the best part of the whole season and for good reason.

You see, aside from all of the amazing and breath-taking shots of people launching off of all kinds of crazy shit, Warren’s films feature, arguably, some of the coolest music you’ve never heard. Okay, maybe you’ve heard a couple of the tracks and some of the artists, but seriously, the guy has a knack for finding some obscure talent. And I mean, obscure. In fact, I couldn’t find squat on one of the main artists featured in Warren’s new film, Off The Grid, Boots Wallace. Too bad. . .good shit, Boots. But, that’s exactly why were here today. I realize that if you’re not a skier, your chances of checking out one of these films is slim to none and slim just left town, but there were some artists in this year’s film that are deserving of your attention. Some you’ve heard of, like Gomez and Imogen Heap, but others you more than likely have not. I highly recommend checking out the actual films, but, at the very least, check these tunes out and help out some under-appreciated artists. Who knows, maybe you’ll find some new favorites like I did with Big City Rock, Zero 7 and Gomez.

In no particular order:

-Sweatshop Union’s “Baho Ang Titi Mo,” “Union Dues” and “Garbage Love Scenes/Cheesy Jingles” (www.myspace.com/sweatshopunion7)

-Scratch Track’s “Come One Come All” (www.myspace.com/scratchtrack)

-Tomorrow and Everyday After’s “Grudge” (www.teaarmy.com)

-Living Things’ “Bom Bom Bom” (www.myspace.com/livingthings)

-Simon Dawes’ “Have a Heart” (www.myspace.com/simondawes)

-Gomez’s “How We Operate” (www.myspace.com/gomez)

-Primal Scream’s “Country Girl” (www.myspace.com/primalscream)

-Wired All Wrong’s “Let Me Go,” “Medicate,” “Elevatin’”and “Fifteen Minutes” (www.myspace.com/wiredallwrong)

-Zero 7’s “The Pageant of the Bizarre” (www.myspace.com/zero7official)

– Bullets And Octane’s “Save Me Sorrow” (www.myspace.com/bulletsandoctane)

-Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek” (www.myspace.com/imogenheap)

-Big City Rock’s “Human” (www.myspace.com/bigcityrock)

“Yippee ki aye, mother fucker!”

BAND OF THE WEEK!!!!

You know? In addition to MySpace being a GREAT place to meet a Dateline reporter. . .

it’s also a great place to check out some new and/or unsigned artists. To honor these individuals and their art, I thought it would be cool to feature a band here each time out, sans any remarks or comments from yours truly. Consider this your place to shine. If you want you or your band featured here, just drop me a line. Up this week. . .

Pepper Sands

Vancouver, BC

www.myspace.com/peppersands or www.peppersands.com

Band Members:

Citizen A: Bass and vocals

Adam: Drums and Percussion

Jay Slye: Guitar and Percussion

Derek MacDonald: Keyboards

Has Toured With: Concrete Blonde, 30 Seconds To Mars, I Mother Earth, Billy Talent, Sleater-Kinney and Swollen Members. . .amongst others.

Sounds Like: “Your wildest, wettest dreams”

CD Available? New Disc Available. . .”Forrest Strays”

Label: Universal Music Canada/Independent

What Others Are Saying: “For a major label debut, Pepper Sands self-titled record shines with the polish of the numerous veteran alternative rock acts that so obviously influence it. Seems like this Vancouver quartet has been carefully listening to most of modern rocks finest from the last decade. Lead-off track, “Win Big Lose More (Cherries Jubilee),” shows you what a Shirley Manson-fronted Foo Fighters would sound like, with its heavy riffs, poppy melodies and singer Citizen As girlie-but-ballsy vocals (think Avril Lavigne’s older sister!). Hints of Brit-pop will warm the hearts of still-grieving Lush fans on “Speak Too Soon,” while the shoe-gaze-y indie pop of “Myth” references everything that was cool about mid-90s alt-darlings, Velocity Girl. You’ve got to like a band that knows how to swap girl/boy vocals with ease and use them oh-so-sweetly when harmonizing. And get ready to dance on the super bop-y “Forever Wonder” that sounds like Neko Case singing lead for One Chord-era Sloan. Nice. Pepper Sands seem to have taken all the best parts of their favorite bands and put together a radio-friendly, catchy debut that surprises you and sticks in your head all day.” — Brian Pascual, Chartattack

Message from the band: Looks are deceiving. And first impressions don’t always hold true. With their spunky black-white-and-red comic book cover art and short, tight, hyperactive tunes, Pepper Sands might give you the impression they’re a modern-day new wave group, updating the carefree magic of the Go-Go’s. The Vancouver quartet certainly come charging out of the gate with plenty of amped-up frustration and good time kicks. But somewhere in the middle of their debut album, the band that has opened for 54-40, Sleater-Kinney and Matthew Good slow down ever so slightly and begin opening up. The staccato pop bursts of “WIN BIG LOSE MORE (cherries jubilee)” or “Speak Too Soon” give way to the moodier introspection of “Myth,” “Touch Apart” and “Make No Mistake.” Singer Citizen A layers her vocals in lush echoes and even shuts down to a whisper. Guitarist Jay Slye rolls off the aggressive opening riffs and begins painting the night sky with ringing tones reminiscent of U2’s the Edge. Atmosphere adds depth and the lined images on the cover transform into full portraits. The acres of lyrics on the album’s insert, taking up literally every panel except the cover, express the views of a band hooked on love and forever trying to figure out a way past the inevitable pain. Except where a less literal band might stick with a few cloying phrases — and drill an obnoxious, overdone hook into your head — Pepper Sands opt to tell the story like an interior monologue where the brain must decide what thoughts to keep and which to discard. The effect is sometimes maddening, sometimes endearing, like that late night radio DJ who has had too much caffeine and proceeds to speak in circles through the endless night. You keep thinking you should turn it off and get your own head straight, but you keep wondering where it’s all going to end up. In Pepper Sands’ case, it adds up to a spirited pop debut that suggests the band is going to get much weirder as time goes on.

Be sure to check them out!!!

Well, folks, that’s going to do it for me and the gang this week, so. . .until next time. . .keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.

Send your votes for a new rap reviewer, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:

M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001

E-MAIL THE AUTHOR

Hello there, friends! Welcome back again!! How the hell are ya’? Me? Good lord… I’m more tickled right now than a D.C. page at a Mark Foley pool party. Okay… almost as tickled. But seriously… it really makes me giddy when I ask you fine folks for a little help and you jump all over the task like Madonna on a Malawi orphanage. Color me impressed, folks. Now, for those of you just tuning in, last time out I was having issues deciding on a kick ass Halloween costume so I decided to punt to you dear readers. And, in typical Music For The Masses fashion, I got EXACTLY what I asked for… and then some. BOY, AND HOW!!!! So, without further ado, I’m turning the spotlight on the winners of the Danny Elfman CD’s, in no particular order…

Dan L. from Burbank, CA, writes… and writes… and writes… : You could go easy and go as “Ask a Ninja”. That would be a trendy costume. I may do that, since I can do the voice pretty well and have the mannerisms down. If you want an easy costume, you could wear a big bow with a big gift tag that says TO: Women FROM: God. If that’s too cheesy for you or if you think you are the opposite of that, just change the tag to read, TO: The Women I don’t love FROM: God. It’s easy, doesn’t cost anything, and sometimes chicks think that kinda thing is clever and you get the hookups. Whatever…

Or you could do what I did last year and go as a suicide bomber… but only if it’s a 90% Persian party. Which I did. Oh and I’m not Persian. I’m “Whitey McHonkey” pale. You see my buddy Al Queda (his name is Bobby, but hey, everyone needs a nickname) was hosting a costume party in the Hollywood Hills. He is Iranian but is the most “American” Iranian I’ve ever met. Anyway, he said that you couldn’t get into the party if you didn’t wear a costume. I’m not one for wearing costumes and I don’t like being forced to do anything. So I said fine, I’ll wear a costume. And, like I said, it was a party with about 150 people, 90% of which were Persian. And the pic above (I’m the one on the right) is what I wore. Needless to say I thought I was going to get stabbed, but that’s why I forced my friend to be one as well, in case I needed a human shield. It actually was a big hit at the party. The host’s mom came up and told me how she felt like she was back home. Crazy, right? And I lived to tell about it. Luckily, he isn’t having a party this year because the only way I could top what I wore last year is to come as Mohammad. And I kinda want to live past Halloween.

Holy shit, Dan. I’m sitting here right now thinking two things, three if you count a floundering joke involving the term “camel toe.” One, it must have been damn near impossible fitting that costume over your giant balls and two, who did you get to start your car for you when you left the party? BLAMO!!! Enjoy the CD, man. You more than earned it. Allahu Akbar!!

Christina Y., hailing from Aurora, CO and obviously confusing me for a member of MENSA, offers up two suggestions. The first, is to build a giant, 9′ 2″ fucking robot… yes, fucking…

… with a little, motorized ant “driving” it…

… powered by a circuit board that would make an MIT graduate’s asshole pucker.

I greatly appreciate the vote of confidence here, Christina, but I couldn’t build this thing if I tried. If you’d have been paying closer attention, you’d know a couple of crucial things about me. First, I write the rough-draft of this column in crayon so I don’t hurt myself and second, my two most-favoritist things to do are playing “Sniff the Finger” and “Put Stuff On The Cat.”

Good times… good times. Of course, Christina, you also recommended that I go as Elfman’s “Satan” character from the Forbidden Zone and that is ABSOLUTELY worthy of a CD, so… Enjoy!!

Jeff B. from Mesa, AZ, offers up a rather simple suggestion. “Go as a cock fighter,” he says. Interesting choice, Jeff. However, I will fully admit that I didn’t realize the enormity, length or girth of this idea until I opened the accompanying photo…

That’s some funny shit, right there, Jeff. Good work. Very, umm… tasteful. Enjoy the CD.

Now, probably my favorite response is the one I received from Jim A. of Des Moines, IA. You see, Jim decided to completely ignore the whole point of this contest and just sent me his name, address and this picture…

… which reminds me of a porno I picked up in the $6 bin at my local “Rub n’ Chub.” At any rate, enjoy the CD, Jim. I have no idea what the hell this has to do with anything, but what the hey. Oh, and Jim? I hear that if you take just a little peanut butter and slather it all over your… oh, who am I kidding? I’m sure you already know all this!! Have fun with Rover, there, tiger!! PETA will be contacting you shortly.

And last, but not least, is A.J. from Portland, OR, who writes… “Screw the fancy costumes, man. Pick yourself up a little kid’s Batman outfit. Trust me. . .the chicks will be all over you like old people on a buffet.”

Speaking of being “all over the buffet” there A.J., considering that you have bigger tits than Anna Nicole, you may want to sit one out, know what I’m sayin’, playa’? I keed, I keed!! At any rate, considering that you look a HELL of a lot like Kevin Smith in Mallrats, you get a CD. “Fly, Fat Ass!! Fly!!!”

Well, there you have it, friends. And seriously, thanks to all of you who entered. Obviously, I can’t give you all a CD, but if you didn’t win, know this… I am reserving a special place in Heaven for each and every one of you who entered. Of course, the only seats I had left were “Obstructed View,” but what the hell… at least I’m not sticking you back by the shitters.

For the rest of you? Feel free to use any of these ideas for your Halloween costume this year. Me? Well, you see, this outpouring of creativity, or, in some cases, out-right thievery, has made me realize that I should just come up with my own costume idea, so… that’s EXACTLY what I did. Granted, dressing up as Spider-man is not the most “original” idea, but, I think you’ll agree, I was able to put my own “stamp” on it. .

Pretty sweet, huh? I’m just praying it doesn’t get too cold on Halloween, otherwise, the “trick” will be on me and the only “treat” I’ll get is a frost-bitten “web-shooter.” BA DUMP BUMP!!!

But enough about all that, friends, for, even though it’s a REALLY slow time for new releases, we still have a few to check out including the new ones from Jeremy Enigk and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. Also, we have a review from a pissed-off Record Store clerk and a chance for you aspiring artists out there to “Pimp Your Band.” Should be fun. So, what do you say? Let’s get to it, shall we??!!

Artist: Jeremy Enigk Album: World Waits Bastard Love Child of: Sunny Day Real Estate and and the sweet, angelic voice of a little baby Jesus. Best for: Taking a contemplative moment to wonder, “Seriously. . .What WOULD Jesus do?”

The fact that Jeremy Enigk is NOT a household name is one of the great tragedies of our modern times. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it is one of the signs of the Apocalypse… right between the whole “raining frogs” thing and Paris Hilton’s popularity. Oh, by the way, speaking of Paris, I guess you can “hire” her for a $100,000 to host your New Year’s Eve party. Hmm… I wonder if a video tape of you and her having awkward, fumbling sex later that night is included? Either way, I recommend pocketing the cash and spending the evening with a 1X6 with a blonde wig stapled to the top. The conversation will be more lively, the night more fun and the sex… about the same… umm, from what I’ve seen. But I digress.

Now, for the sake of those of you out there who have no frickin’, (yes, I just typed frickin’ in a vain attempt to “clean up my act”), clue as to who Jeremy Enigk is, let me briefly fill you in. He is the ethereal-voiced ex-lead singer of emo-core pioneers Sunny Day Real Estate (GREAT fucking band… yes, I just typed “fucking”… the attempt to clean up my act “didn’t take”), current lead singer of The Fire Theft (when he feels like it) and full-time, speakin’-in-tongues, rattlesnake-throwin’ Jesus freak. His favorite color is mauve, he has a Shitzu named Earl and he can break up a band faster than Yoko Ono. *Editor’s note: M.C. has no fucking clue what Jeremy’s favorite color is or if he even has a dog. He does, however, tend to break up his bands much like that evil harpy Yoko.*

Jeremy also happens to possess one of the most uniquely impressive voices that I have ever heard and his last effort with Sunny Day Real Estate, The Rising Tide, with it’s swelling orchestration, impressive guitar work and, of course, Jeremy’s tremendous vocal range, is easily in my top 25 and, I would argue, a “must own” album. And many of those same elements, minus the meaty guitar work of phenom Dan Hoener, are present on this new solo album, World Waits. However, without Dan, the album never quite kicks out of the more mellow-melodic groove of Jeremy’s work with The Fire Theft. No, this is not a bad thing. In fact, as the tracks on this overly short disc progress, fans of Jeremy’s work and any of it’s various iterations will easily recognize elements from Sunny Day’s Rising Tide or Diary and The Fire Theft disc. And this really kicks ass. For you non-fans? Hmm… honestly, for the uninitiated, I could see Jeremy’s, whinny-at-times timbre irritating the holy hell out of you. I would recommend that you pick up The Rising Tide first to get acclimated to his sound (and because you should own it) and in a friendlier (read: more accessible) environment. However, if you’re feeling adventurous and want a superb disc from an under-appreciated artist, grab a copy of World Waits and let it grow on you like a cold sore on Albert Pujols lip (Thanks HDTV!!). You won’t be disappointed.

To check out the best songs on the disc, minus the spooky-as-hell “Damien Dreams,” hit Jeremy’s MySpace page… www.myspace.com/jeremyenigk.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 (only because it’s too damn short)

Now before you get all discombobulated, I’ll clear one thing up for you, if you weren’t already in the know. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes is NOT a rap group. Nor are the Gimmes considered hip-hop. In fact, they are pretty far from the genre that I have been primarily getting over the last few months. See the Gimmes are a punk band, but more importantly they could be considered a “Super Punk” band. The band consists of members of other perennial punk bands like NoFX, Swinging Utters and Lagwagon. You can think of them as the Damn Yankees of a new generation. But of course instead of “The Nuge” and a 50 year old guy from Night Ranger, you get a bunch of punk dudes. I think that it’s a fair trade all around. Oh and did I mention that the Gimmes are strictly a cover band? No? Well, they are.

Back with a fifth studio album, Love Their Country, is a collection of County-type songs done up all punk like. Normally I would shy away from anything having to do with country music, but if Me First and the Gimme Gimmes are involved, I will at least give it a listen. Love Their Country is not the groups best effort, but it’s not bad either. With songs like the Eagles Desperado and the Dixie Chicks’ Goodbye Earl, the band covers songs ranging from pseudo country to straight up, shit kicking, bull sexing country. None of the songs are bad, but there are only a few, like Goodbye Earl and Sunday Morning Comedown (Johnny Cash) that really stand out.

The biggest gripe I have with this album is the length. Clocking in at just over 25 minutes, this disc should have a lot more music. Of course this is quite common in the punk side of the business, and the rap side as well, but it still doesn’t mean that I have to like it. I mean if I’m going to pay for a CD, I’d like to get my money out of it. I don’t think 25 minutes quite justifies my 18 dollar expenditure. It would be like if (or more commonly when) I pay a stripper for a lap dance and she leaves her top on till half way through the song. I mean it’s just not right!

Anyways, Love Their Country is a good album especially if you’re a fan of that crazy punk music. If you’re a straight up country fan, I think you’ll want to stay away. But then again I think that if Garth Brooks threw more “fucks” into his songs, I could see myself giving him more of a listen.

Rating:3 out of 5

REVIEWS BY…

Robb O.
“Dan’s New & Used CDeez” Employee

Man, I’m serious. You customers REALLY piss me off. Always coming up and asking, in your whiny, little voices “Do you have any Green Day? Do you have any AFI? Do you have any Panic! At the Disco?” Gahh!! Flavors of the day, people. Flavors of the day. All you pop music posers make me want to puke all down the front of my Shitz Londer and the Horror Babes T-shirt. I even told the owner, Dan, about how much you all suck and how little you know about good music, and that asshole wrote me up! Can you believe it? Probably a fucking Hinder fan. Seriously. All of you sheep wouldn’t know good music if it bit you on your pimpled, Lucky Jean-wearing asses. I cut my teeth on Springsteen, people. Ever heard of him? Now THAT’s music. Yeah. That’s right. Can’t make fun of him, can you? That’s why I kick-ass. How about Robert Johnson? That’s right, I know the blues, too. Uh huh. That’s why I rule and you drool. Ever heard of Beat Farmers? G Love and Special Sauce? Of course you haven’t. You suck. Seriously. From the giant, commercial tit. Just lapping up whatever the major labels throw at you. Damn! Wait till you leave the store, man. . .me and Steve are going to make sooo much fun of you, your ears are going to burn clean off.

I’m not EVEN joking here… if one more person asks me about the new Sparta disc, I’m going to go postal. Seriously, idiots. Let Uncle Robb give you a little history lesson here since you suck. First, stupid jack-asses, I was into these guys way back when they were in At The Drive-In. Yeah. That’s right. Back when you were listening to Top-40 pabulum, I was into these guys. Hell, their first album came out right when I started here. Me and Steve were both like “Yeah! This is the shit!! This is so much better than all of that pop-crap, major label bullshit that our customers are always asking for! Yeah!!!” Of course, I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. I know you’ve never heard of them. But I have. That’s why you suck. Whatever. Let’s just suffice it to say that ATDI were the best thing to come out of San Diego since Rocket From the Crypt. Don’t worry. I know you’ve never heard of them either… because you suck. Like Sinatra said, “The money’s on the dresser.” No, I don’t know what that means, but screw you. I’m quoting Sinatra. You can’t do that.

Look, time for me to take you to school here… try to stay with me if your tiny brains are able. At The Drive-In basically redefined music for an entire generation of bands, much like Morphine. True “artistes” in every sense of the word. When they disbanded, the world, this Earth and certainly what we humans refer to as music, got a little bit more opaque. No, I don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t matter. Like Morrisey once said, “Girlfriend in a coma, I know. It’s serious.” Yeah… stings, huh?

So anyway, idiots, the two most responsible for At The Drive-In’s true direction and intensity, Cedric and Omar (you know the guys that were in DeFacto before At The Drive-In? Of course you don’t), they formed the Mars Volta back when you were still listening to Brittany Spears and Matchbox 20. That’s right. I could school you like this all day long. All day long, man. Well, at least until my shift ends at 8. I thought I was going to have to close tonight, but Dan called Rick, so I’m cool. But, hey… I think I’ve already proven that, you pop-loving mongoloids.

You dummies still with me? Yeah, well, the other At The Drive-In guys, the more “mainstream” guys, formed the sellout, “wannabe” shame Sparta. But of course you DO know this. You suck. That’s why you keep asking me for this album. After all, your masters at MTV and bullshit radio told you too. Sheep. If you had ANY taste at all, you’d be asking me for Fugazi. Whatever. Like pearls before swine. No, I don’t know what that means, but whatever. You suck.

Consider yourself schooled and if you’ve learned nothing else today, I hope you at least learned that you suck. In fact, don’t even bother coming into this store anymore until you get some musical taste like I have. Your taste in music sucks even more than the new Sparta disc. And no, I haven’t even listened to it, but I don’t have too ““ Sparta sold out. After all, how can they be good when they’ve had their souls ground up in the corporate machine?

Rating: -1000 out of 5

* Editor’s notes:

At The Drive-In is actually from El Paso, Texas”¦ not San Diego.

Rob actually liked the new Sparta until Steve made fun of him. Steve liked it until somebody made fun of him.

The new Sparta disc is actually quite good and a musical and lyrical improvement over their last disc (Rating 3.5 out of 5).

Records store clerks don’t know shit about music and are generally dicks.*

BAND OF THE WEEK!!!!

You know? In addition to MySpace being a GREAT place to meet a Dateline reporter, it’s also a great place to check out some new and unsigned artists. To honor these individuals and their art, I thought it would be cool to feature a band here each time out, sans any remarks or comments from yours truly. Consider this your place to shine. If you want you or band featured here, just drop me a line. Up first…

THE TASTYDACTYLS

Austin, Texas

Website: www.myspace.com/thetastydactyls

Band Members:

Blake- Guitar/Vocals/Keys

Austun- Drums/Vocals/Train Whistle

Kyle- Keys/Synth/Samples

Big Blake- Rickenbacker Bass/Tamborine

Chelsey- Everything Else

Influences: Too numerous (and humorous) to list. Log on and see for yourself!

Sounds Like: “The Muppet Band re-mixed.”

CD Available? YES!!! Again, hit the web-site and check us out!!

Label: None… for now!

Message from the band: Big Blake- “The only thing I can tell you about us over and above what you can glean from our web-site is that we are a fun-loving group, a tremendous live act and that the three 19 year olds in the band all went to high school together. The original bass player “lost interest” AND, because they were practicing in my garage (guitarist has dated my daughter for almost 4 years), I chipped in, started popping the bass and helping with the song writing. In my humble opinion… that decision paid off in spades! Finally, we have a CD ready to ship to our adoring fans so… what are you waiting for?? Check us out!!”

If you want your band featured here, shoot me an email at the link below!

Well, folks, that’s going to do it for me and the gang this week, so… until next time… keep wearing it proud and playing it loud.