Beatles or Stones?

Kinks.

Why Won’t Bob Seger Die?

Recently, some friends of mine and I were reflecting on the music of Bob Seger. (I know, it was a productive use of time.) The consensus was that Bob's soulful voice had been pretty much wasted. Seger has a mighty, whiskey-soured voice. If he only had a decent song, you know he would have brought it — and in turn brought us to our knees. Instead, he opened up his asshole and let things like “Rock ’n’ roll never forgets,” “I’m goin’ to Katmandu,” “Today’s music ain’t got the same soul” come roaring out. “Just take those old records off the shelf…,” he once insisted. I’d like to take those old records off the shelf... and chuck them by the box load at ol’ Silver Bullet Bob. Only then might the lessons of those “old records” actually penetrate his hairy skull. (And by “old records,” I assume Seger isn’t talking about Andy Williams, Mitch Miller or all those mildewy records you find mixed in with Bob’s old records at the thrift store). Yeah, bearded Bob has such a good voice. Why the hell did anyone let him sing such crap? Why did he prostitute it to sell a junky brand of American truck? (I guess that makes sense, though, as both Bob and Chevy are worthy representatives of the post-industrial wasteland that is Detroit.) “Like a rock.” Bullshit. I wish I had a rock for every time I heard that song selling crappy pickup trucks — I’d stone Seger... and fuck up his Chevy truck, too. Short of dying the only good thing Bob Seger did was disappear into retirement, which, had he had any decency he never would come out of. I can't blame him for returning to music, though. How can one resist the riches and glamor of the casino circuit?

As I was saying, my friends and I were talking about Bob Seger — and his crimes against humanity. Why? Because we had just seen this video for the first time. You hear that? Bob could sing. And his old band could rock. You didn't know that, did you? So much for Bob’s “Rock ’n’ Roll Never Forgets” theory.

After watching Bob Seger and the Last Heard uncork some blistering garage rock in black-and-white, my friend Steve remarked, “He should have died immediately after the taping of that video.”

Kill the Queen

I found him: the single person who claims ownership of one of the worst musical mutilations in the history of the world—the live rock ’n’ roll travesty known as Return of the Champions, by Queen + Paul Rodgers. That person, as I was dismayed to learn the other night, is my spin class teacher (yeah, I get my rocks off wearing tight shorts and sweating on a stationary bike). And on that night he showed no shame (or mercy), only unbridled enthusiasm, in using arena-rock afterbirth as a means to motivate his troops: he allowed three songs of that shit rain down from the ceiling-mounted Bose speakers during the hour-long class. As if Queen with the flamboyantly histrionic Freddie Mercury wasn’t awful enough — hell, why wasn’t their music tossed into the coffin with Mercury’s rotting corpse and buried forever? No longer would our sensitive ear hairs be bulldozed by the high-decibel battering rams of “We Are the Champions,” “Another One Bites the Dust” and of course “We Will Rock You” at all kinds of public events—dog shows, football games, public executions. OK, there’s no dethroning Queen. Fine. But, Paul Rodgers and Queen? Who arranged this summit of shit? Have you heard the live album I’m talking about? Probably not. Hopefully not. Hopefully, we 15 unlucky pedal-pushers are the only ones (besides the thousands of stupid Brits who paid money to have their cheers recorded between songs) to have had our aural cavities violated by this crap. It’s enough to suffer on a bike. But to suffer on a bike while Paul “I Still Feel Like Makin’ Love But Require a Heroic Dose of Viagra in Order to Be Makin’ Love” Rodgers is pushing you up an imaginary hill farting out karaoke-style renditions of “Another One Bites the Dust,” “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” and “We Will Rock You” is dreadful and depleting. Lucky for us, we were granted a reprieve — instead of Queen and Rodgers, we cooled down to “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers.”

One footnote: I dropped in on Wikipedia for a little fact-checking. Curiously, the entry for Queen + Paul Rodgers does not credit my spin class teacher as the lone American owner of Return of the Champions. How could they have omitted this detail?

Atoning for My Sins: Mr. Ehrbar Regrets (part 3)

I regret...
...that when I was 12, I checked out the following LPs from the library: Cyndi Lauper She's So Unusual and Michael Jackson Thriller. Probably should have gotten a book or two instead.

Atoning for My Sins: Mr. Ehrbar Regrets (part 2)

I regret...
...including one of the all-time worst power ballads ever recorded, Guns N' Roses' "November Rain," on a mix tape I made for my girlfriend in 1992. I regret making said tape late one night at the radio station where I volunteered and using the mixing board and mike so that I could pipe in my clumsy, inept dedication to introduce this weepy butt-rock nugget. Although, I don't recall actually making a dedication; I believe I spent a few moments during the song's opening notes justifying "November Rain"'s merits on what was quickly becoming a musical abortion. Typical. Oh, how my cheeks burn in embarrassment just thinking about this. The story has a happy ending, thankfully; my girlfriend overlooked my mix-tape mistake and let me subject her to future tapes before agreeing to marry me and turning over an entire bedroom in the house we share to my vinyl collection.

Atoning for My Sins: Mr. Ehrbar Regrets (part 1)

I've done some pretty bad things through the years. Rather than talking to a priest, I thought I'd disclose some of my miserable misdeeds and missteps in this very space in an effort to unburden my guilty conscious, repent for my sins and perhaps earn some much-needed forgiveness. It takes a strong man to admit his mistakes and I'm as strong as they come. With that, I give you Part 1 in an ongoing serious of "Atoning for My Sins: Mr. Ehrbar Regrets."

I regret...
...that I counted myself a fan of the music made by Toad the Wet Sprocket, a cover band of the R.E.M. cover band, Guadalcanal Diary, in the early 1990s. Yes, I lapped up this cream corn of "college folk rock" as if it was precious protein that would sustain my existence and lead me to enlightenment. I purchased three Toad the Wet Sprocket albums, Bread and Circus, Pale and Fear, and was tempted to liberate the marble-vinyl promo copy of Pale from the radio station where I volunteered. (To my credit, I didn't jack it.) I draped an over-sized promotional poster of Fear on a wall in my bedroom at the college house I occupied in 1992. That same year I helped publicize (via radio) Toad's Spokane performance at the '80s hair-metal joint Gatsby's, which culminated in my appearance in the audience at said performance.

I don't know who or what set me straight, but some time around 1994 I orphaned my Toad CDs at the local used record depot and never looked back--for that I am not sorry. But I am sorry for briefly being enamored of this band's jingle-jangle crap rock. I was a victim of my own bad taste.

OK, No More 2009 Lists After This One. Promise.

Top 10 Records (Not Vinyls) of 2009 That I Really Wanted to Purchase, but Didn’t Cuz Money Had to Be Spent on Other Things, too, Like Bills, Clean Underwear and a Bathroom Remodel (Sigh)

I’m not ashamed of accepting handouts. Therefore, should you, dear reader, wish to purchase one of these platters that matter and pass it along to me, I’ll be in your temporary debt.

1. Sunn O))) Monoliths and Dimensions (Southern Lord 2-LP)
2. Tom Waits Glitter and Doom Live (Anti- 2-LP)
3. The Jesus Lizard Liar (Touch & Go LP)
-tie- The Jesus Lizard Down (Touch & Go LP)
-tie- The Jesus Lizard Goat (Touch & Go LP)
-tie- The Jesus Lizard Head (Touch & Go LP)
7. The Fiery Furnaces I’m Going Away (Thrill Jockey LP)
8. Russian Circles Geneva (Sargent House/Suicide Squeeze LP)
9. Blakroc Blakroc (Blakroc/V2 LP)
10. Death For the Whole World to See (Drag City LP)