RIP AIC RHCP

After hearing the latest Alice In Chains single, “Check My Brain,” I emphasize that my previous post about the band being awesome meant they were awesome only with Layne Staley on vocals. The new song is awful, and it’s painful to think I was so blown away by this band when I listened to them in junior high and high school and now they’re releasing piles of wet garbage. It’s the same pain as hearing the Chili Peppers when “Californication” was released. I’ve since gotten over that pain and least attempted to listen to their old stuff with some success, but their new stuff tarnishes it so badly that I can stand only small doses of the music I once loved. Then, I think a little further about albums like “Uplift Mofo Party Plan” and “Mother’s Milk,” and feel as though I should be rockin’ out in my driveway while washing my Camaro or Pontiac Fiero, my cutoff Cobra Kai sweatshirt stained with a perfect V of sweat.

I’m over the loss of the Chili Peppers, because most of their early songs were about themselves, which is fairly intolerable these days. They had a theme song for every album they released, sometimes more, which is ridiculous. Who are you, Suicidal Tendencies? Body Count? I can’t believe bands used to that get away with that. Sure, it was rap-core, or whatever you want to call it, that caused them to boast and make anthems for themselves, but it’s such a cop out, a Cop-Killer-Out in one case. Thankfully, theme songs have mostly disappeared from albums everywhere, so we don’t have to worry about hearing, “Lady Gaga is the Best” by Lady Gaga anytime soon. Maybe she’s a bad example for that, but bands that write songs about themselves is just laughable. Experiences they’ve had together prosed poetically is one thing, but if they’re just singing about themselves, how cool they are, and how much they love to party is cause for instant and permanent dismissal from relevance.

Alice In Chains never made a theme song, but I’d almost rather they did instead of that crap I heard this morning; so much for my early morning desire for bagels, coffee, and radio. Ah well, there’s always bagels, coffee, and iPods.     

Rainy Day, Dream Away, and other things not involving Hendrix.

Tonight’s post is going to be a little half-butted. I just got home from band practice, which went really well, and didn’t really have much energy even before I played drums for a few hours. Despite my current tired, worn down feeling, the last thing I want to do is lie to the Internet and not post something every day. This whole endeavor is a bold, daring, new thing for me entirely, so I don’t want to be pixilated as a prevaricating poop head. Some of my hesitation in starting this was caused by laziness, but the larger part of it was the fact that any sucker with a service provider could write a blog, and my writing is no different than that of other slick typing miscreant hucksters with snake oil potions that, when written, enrapture and cure. The difference is that I lack the element of ego, as those that impersonate prose are full of their B.S., M.S., and Ph.D.’s; that’s Bull Shit, More Shit, Piled higher and Deeper. If I proved myself a liar here, where would I be then? Still on line with the rest of the suckers.

            Tonight’s post is being made while watching the Celtics vs. Cavaliers on DVR and begging my dog to just lie down. Check that, while keeping my dog in her crate and giving the cat some roaming time. I hate to say it, but Bruin is a hell of a cat. Not a hellcat, just a good one. This blog has a point, and I’m getting to that, but let me first say that it’s 3 ^rd quarter action on the DVR, and the Celtics look real good.

            The point is, I listened to bunch of really good rainy day albums today before going to practice; here they are:

Anthrax – Sound of White Noise
            Say what you will about John Bush, this a damn fine album. This is a good one to listen to when you’re angry with Mother Nature but still know better than to kill trees, plants, flowers, and the like.

Fugazi – The Argument
            Their most mature release, this one is sort of like listening to the socio-emo Beatles disbanding. I’m not comparing Fugazi to the Beatles, but just that for their genre, they were the best, and this was probably Fugazi’s finest album.

Murder By Death – In Bocca al Lupo
            After walking the dog in the rain this morning, I came home and removed my soaking wet clothes, feeling as though I were a whaler entering a dim tavern, having just returned from a disappointing hunt. This one’s best served during the eye of the storm, when things are at their most indefinite and haunting.

Tortoise – Beacons of Ancestorship
            Abe Froman was the sausage king of Chicago, and Tortoise is the noise alt rock king of Chicago. “Beacons…” is noisier than “Standards,” which for their sake, was noisy. It’s not as mellow and entrancing as “TNT” or “It’s All Around You,” but still dominates with syncopated precision and pop like hooks.

            That’s about it for tonight. Celtics are still winning (in the past), and I’m more in the mood to watch that than type more. It may have been short, but it wasn’t a lie.  

Listen, you smell something?

Coming soon! Check back soon for show and album reviews.