Belated Teaser: Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes

6 06 2008

If you live in the Pacific Northwest and follow music, or if you have opened The Stranger in the past 4 months, then you know that Fleet Foxes released an album. The band have been buzzworthy for months, with content about how they aren’t hippies, a super-hyped stint at Sasquatch, a gig opening for Wilco, and with our local indiepop tastemakers falling all over themselves to praise them.

But are they any good?

I’ll be frank. When the words “Celtic-flavored march with a searing Richard Thompson-style guitar line” and “pastorals” are used to describe indie rock music, I do not get excited. I am not a huge fan of PoMo (or is it Po-PoMo?) sea shantys (a la The Decemberists) or of new-wave Vaudeville (a la Of Montreal’s concept album Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimsical Verse). I am a much more simple beast. I want my rock music to be, well, rock music. If I want an Appalachian-style folk pastoral I will go listen to some of my parents old bluegrass records.

But there’s a difference between what I like and what is good, and Fleet Foxes is good. I haven’t decided yet if I like it, but if you’re a fan of 60s/70s folk music (Simon & Garfunkel, Crosby Stills & Nash, etc.) you will enjoy this album quite a bit. Admittedly, I’m slightly bored by it, but I have found myself going back to it at various points during this past week when work was stressing me out and letting the rich and easy melodies carry me away.

Plus, “He Doesn’t Know Why” is shatteringly gorgeous.


Download it

There’s something that rubs me the wrong way about “White Winter Hymnal” though, and I think it’s because it veers a little too close to plain old traditional southern gospel music (minus the God part) and it strikes me as a little bit like the dude who wears a cape to class every day in college just to be weird. In other words, a little annoying. Sure, he’s not doing anything to you personally, and the cape looks pretty good, you have to admit, but there’s that weird mixture of jealousy and anger you feel toward him because a) he won’t conform and b) wearing a cape is kind of stupid. Or maybe I’m just wound up too tight to enjoy neo-hymnals:

Like, you know. It’s good. But, eh. Yawn.

What I like very much about Fleet Foxes, though, is their obvious ability to string together a ridiculous amount of instruments into a unified sound. Acoustic guitar, at least three different kinds of drums, bells, multi-harmonied vocals, slide guitars , organs and horns all make an appearance, but whereas sometimes I feel like Arcade Fire (who use a similar number of instruments) can sound like noise with little purpose of melody (side note: I know I am alone in that assessment since they are one of the most beloved bands currently, but I saw them in concert in September and thought that about 50% of their songs were just a bunch of noise), Fleet Foxes’ gentle use of their music virtuoso blends everything together in winding harmonies that feel both easy and natural. “Quiet Houses” is a great example of that:

A band with more misplaced bravado would have made a very different song, but Fleet Foxes are content to let the vocals and harmonies float effortlessly above the music and let the music lend atmosphere rather than be the focus. Yet the sound is very distinct, and it’s nice to hear a fresh, truly unique voice coming out of the upper-left of the country. Ultimately, the fact that they sound “distinct,” might be their downfall. They have to be careful not to sound the same on subsequent albums. It will be interesting to see where they go from here.

I don’t know if I’ll ever go see Fleet Foxes live, unless I go to the Wilco show. I am much more rocktastic. But I find their music good and pleasant and I wish them a long career of making interesting – if perhaps not exactly rockin’ – music.





Meta Post – Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming Tomorrow

4 06 2008

It’s been a bit hectic here at Bad Ass headquarters and my posting has gone a bit slack.

Tomorrow I’ll post a review of Fleet Foxes much-anticipated album (which I have listened to and made notes on, just haven’t written up yet). Saturday I’ll give you my top 5 summer albums (since it’s summer everywhere but in the Northwest).

Stay tuned!





Tuesday Teaser: Death Cab for Cutie – Narrow Stairs

27 05 2008

Oh Death Cab. How I loved you in your pensive, strange We Have the Facts… days, before Transatlanticism was shouted out all over “The O.C.” and before the Postal Service made Ben Gibbard the indie rock phenom and cash cow that he has become. And oh, how I disliked Plans and its lack of real depth, lack of the lyrics that made Ben Gibbard what he always was – an incredible storyteller, and how it seemed that Chris Walla suddenly became perfectionist and overpolished on that record (perhaps because his producer side coming out?).

But lo! What is this? Narrow Stairs feels like old school Death Cab, all backbeat drums and antimelodic pianos and strange melodies becoming a tapestry on which Gibbard weaves his heartbroken storybook.

Oh, I like it. I like it a lot.

I did not like the first single, which has now charted on VH1 (!!!) “I Will Possess Your Heart” until I heard the non-edited version, which begins with almost five minutes of instrumental buzzing, and a weird, paranoid build which creates a mood and context for the lyrics. The music swells, and then when Gibbard’s voice starts, it crawls back to a lull of simple tones while Gibbard goes stalker-creepy with lyrics like:

There are days when outside your window, I see my reflection as I slowly pass
And I long for this mirrored perspective, when we’ll be lovers, lovers at last
You gotta spend some time–love, you gotta spend some time with me
And I know that you’ll find–love, I will possess your heart

You reject my advances and desperate pleas
I won’t let you, let me down so easily, so easily

It’s just perfect, completely perfect, and its too bad the radio edit ruins it and turns it into something far too catchy and poppy. Full version:

Download the better version of I Will Possess Your Heart

“You Can Do Better Than Me” is catchy and poppy in a 50s Beach Boys sort of way, a sound I can’t remember the band ever experimenting with:

It works, though because the mood of the whole album is dark and claustrophobic (you get that album title now?), it works in its modern way, and the sweet refrain “You can do better than me / But I can’t do better than you” ends the song with just pianos. It’s funny that I’ve mentioned the Beach Boys because California (well, okay, Kerouac) is all over this album. And though Death Cab have spoken of California before (the LA hipster haven neighborhood of Silverlake got name-checked on Transatlanticism while Los Angeles itself got an entire song devoted to how crap it was which I mentioned in my post on Los Angeles). But on Narrow Stairs, not only are they channeling the Beach Boys, Death Cab are singing about Bixby Bridge (in Big Sur, which is, I guess, an homage to Kerouac’s Big Sur) and describing wildfires tearing through vineyards in “Grapevine Fires,” hands down one of the most beautiful Death Cab songs ever, about a woman and a man and a child, running twhile a fire closes in:

“Closing in” is a big theme of this album, and the idea that as things close in on you, sometimes you get further away from what you want.

The only place where the album goes a little awry for me is on “Long Division,” which has a fantastic melody but features, um, math puns. Lots of math puns. But is still lovely and catchy as hell and even with the stupid math puns had me bouncing around my living room yelling “Without a remain, remain, remain, remainder!”

“Your New Twin-Sized Bed” is also a little weak, but frankly I don’t care. The portraits of heartbreak on this album are achingly and lovingly painted, and while the portrait may not be comfortable to look at, it sure is spot on. Each song features (seemingly) a different narrator who all share a similar sense of lovelorn hopelessness. The songs connect like a novel (for example, coming directly after the “remainder” refrain of “Long Division” is this couplet from “Pity and Fear,” “If you can’t stand in place you can’t tell who’s walking away / From who remains, who stays, who stays, who stays,” which made the LitGeek in me go “Ooooh! Parallelism!” I’ll leave the rest of the interpretation of this very literary album to you, dear readers, if you so wish, but if you prefer to just let this lovely album wash over you, I think you can do that as well. It ends with a sort of non-ending. “The Ice is Getting Thinner” just stops, as if the narrator has silently slipped under, and it is heartbreaking, but somehow completely fitting, a finalized slam-shut of a book.

Oh, band. My band. You are back! I am no longer embarrassed to have a silk screen of one of your concerts up on my wall! I hope that with Postal Service and Ben Gibbard and Chris Walla’s solo work that you aren’t slamming your book together shut, because when you’re good, you’re very very good.





Thursday Memoir – The Boss Delivers

22 05 2008

What is it about Bruce Springsteen? I mean, aside from the blinding raw talent, sexy voice, ability to reinvent a genre as he creates it and the cute little ass?

As there are about 67,000 ways to write about Bruce Springsteen, this will just focus on his first two albums. Perhaps I’ll talk about The Rising and Magic in another post.

I didn’t grow up with the Boss. Not really. I mean, I’m sure my dad played him every once in awhile, but my father isn’t really the grandiose rock & roll kind of guy. He likes jazz and bluegrass and early Rolling Stones records, so I was surprised (and I bet so was he!) when I came home from my first year of college (in the summer of 2001) toting a Born to Run CD and a brand new little crush and he proffered in return copies of The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle and Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ, Springsteen’s incredible first two albums. Thanks, Dad!

I don’t really remember when I started listening to the Boss. I have a sneaking suspicion that I decided, upon arriving at college, that Springsteen was the kind of artist I should listen to, and probably bought a used copy of Born to Run.

Of course then I realized that Brucey was the best thing that ever happened to music. Why? He’s someone we can all agree on, and that’s weirdly comforting. Have you ever met someone who professed to hate Bruce Springsteen? How could you? He makes great music, donates huge amounts to charity, occasionally veers off on interesting tracks like his tribute to Pete Seeger, is humble without being cloying about it, has never been involved in any scandals where he has been discovered “performing lewd acts” in a London park (*ahem George Michael ahem*) and genuinely seems like someone you’d want to have a beer with. And all of his E Street Bandmates are equally talented, normal, and genuine. He cheated on his wife, but married the woman he cheated on her with, so he can hardly be considered a Lothario. Bruce Springsteen is an all-around good dude.

The only reason I can think of to hate him is that nobody does, a fact which I’m sure some people find annoying. Now, I’m all for obscure, weird artists and strange modes of new music, but sometimes you just need the soothing balm of genuine rock music with identifiable lyrics, and it is of course Springsteen who delivers every time.

I want to talk a bit about those first two album, Greetings from Asbury Park, NJ and The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle because I think in order to really appreciate The Boss, you have to appreciate these albums. They are explosions of The Boss’ best talents combined with the grandiose posturing of a young, brilliant artists trying to get it all down. I call Greetings… his I-think-I’m-Bob-Dylan record. He mumbles through dense, dizzy lyrics like Dylan, but does it with a rootsy, earthy electric guitar behind him instead of an electric one. It was released in 1973, and my favorite song by far on the album is “Blinded by the Light” (covered in 1977 by Manfred Mann, a horrible, bastard version of the song with the wrong friggin’ lyrics). The lyrics are a free association description of hazy, confused nights out and about in New York City (“Lost in the Flood” from the same album has a similar, if slightly more sinister, sound/theme):


Download Blinded By the Light

What I think is so great about this album is that Springsteen knows how to surround himself with talented musicians who don’t just play their instruments, they evoke mood and paint pictures with their instruments.

The haunting piano persists throughout the album is most acutely aching on the track “Growing Up,” which features one of my favorite lyrics ever (“I hid in the clouded warmth of the crowd / When they said ‘Come down’ I threw up / Growing up”):

(Incidentally, David Bowie did a cover of the above during the Diamond Dogs sessions which is almost a tribute to the original it’s so closely realted; it’s one of a very few Springsteen covers I can stand):

More use of instruments-as-paintbrushes: The gentle harmonica of “Mary Queen of Arkansas” evokes the lovelorn lyrics with perfect acuity, painting a heartbreaking portrait of a New Jersey boy under the oppressive spell of a hot and heavy southern belle:

Those songs above are flawed, unlike some of Springsteen’s later efforts (such as “Born in the U.S.A” or “Dancing in the Dark” which are, more than anything, perfect rock songs), but I like them for their enthusiastic flaws. Early Springsteen is an excited virtuoso and a little less-than-confident. An adolescent, eager to please. It’s lovely.

The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle – the first “official” E Street Band album – is a wild party of a thing, all blasting horns and electric riffs and throaty vocals and routinely cited as one of the best rock & roll albums ever. It’s a sexy, summer album, punctuated by songs like “4th of July Asbury Park (Sandy)” and “Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)” and “New York City Serenade” which are just perfect for the image I have in my mind about summers in 1970s New York. None of the songs are less than 4 minutes and “New York City Serenade” tops out at over 9, and in the hands of less capable musicians, that is the kind of thing that would make me want to yell about overstuffing songs. But like these songs are the slow burn of a hot and heavy East Coast summer, meant to be experienced with as little clothing and as much beer as possible. And they are simply perfect.

“Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)”, which has the greatest break down of any rock song ever:


Download Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)

Whereas Greetings… is overstuffed with emotion and dense lyrics, The Wild, The Innocent… is overstuffed with feel-good horns. Somehow, in 1975, Springsteen brought it all together for Born to Run, which is just the perfect amount of dense lyrics and feel-good horns and riffs, but I think the first two Boss albums stand as a testament to an emerging genius, and show how the Boss got his groove.

So this is supposed to be a memoir. What did Bruce Springsteen teach me about life?

He taught me that Bruce Springsteen rocks. And that was a very important lesson to learn.





Vacation, all I ever wanted + Songs About Nashville

12 05 2008

Hello chicas and chicos.

You may have noticed that I’ve been absent. I am working my bad ass off at two jobs securing spending money for my trip next weekend to Music City, USA itself, Nashville TN (and thence to Dollywood!!) and haven’t even had a chance to apologize for my absence.

I’ll be back on Thursday, May 22nd with another music memoir.

Until then, here are two songs called “Tennessee” and two songs called “Nashville.” I was unable to find a song called “Pigeon Forge” or “Gatlinburg” (where Dollywood is located), much to my own chagrin:

1. “Tennessee” by Silver Jews, possibly the best song about Tennessee ever (We’re off to the land of club soda unbridled / We’re off to the land of hot, middle-aged women):


Download Tennessee

2. “Nashville” by the Indigo Girls, a lovely song from their 1992 album Rites of Passage, which actually reminds me a lot of my time in Los Angeles, weirdly ( I came to you with a half-open heart dreams upon my back illusions of a brand-new start / Nashville can’t I carry the load / Is it my fault I can’t reap what I sow? / Nashville did you give me half a chance / with your southern style and your hidden dance?)


Download Indigo Girls’s Nashville

3. The classic “Tennessee” by Arrested Development. Oh yeah. I went there. And also, a cover by New Found Glory from a compilation called Punk Goes Crunk. While I’m not really sure you could classify New Found Glory as “punk” or Arrested Development as “crunk,” I kind of dig the cover, even if the vocals are, you know, a bit whiny.

Arrested Development:

New Found Glory:

4. Finally, one of the guiltiest of my guilty feminist pleasures, Liz Phair, applying her sexy, breathy vocals to her song “Nashville” from Whip Smart (They don’t know what they like so much about it / They just go for any shiny old bauble, and nobody sparkles like you/ But I can’t imagine it in better terms/ Then naked, half-awake, about to shave and go to work). It doesn’t have a lot to do with the city itself, but goodness is it lovely:


Download Liz Phair’s Nashville





Belated Tuesday Teaser – Dizzee Rascal Maths + English

7 05 2008

Sorry this is late, guys. I have been burning the midnight oil at my other two jobs and have found little time to write.

I had wanted to promote this album a little because 1) I think it’s fantastic and 2) How many British hip hop artists (REAL hip hop artists) can you think of? I can name…Dizzee. And, um, Ms. Dynamite. So Solid Crew? The Streets if you’re really stretching the definition of hip hop. And that’s it. Sure, there are more, but those are really the only ones to have made it Stateside, and even their success has been at best, a modest fawning of indie rock critics and play on alty radio stations. Brits aren’t really known for the drugs-and-guns culture that produces hip hop, though I can tell you for a fact that it exists. In fact, knowing what I know about the grittier sides of London and Scotland’s cities, I’m surprised there isn’t more hip hop from Britain. Scotland: The most murderous place in Europe! True story!

Oh, and don’t mistake me. I’m not saying the correlation between hip hop and violence is hip hop music causes violence. I’m saying the correlation is more like violent neighborhoods will spark outcries for justice by any means necessary, and because hip hop is a pervasive outlet for America’s urban ghettos, it wouldn’t be too illogical to say that Britain’s urban ghettos might follow suit with the music that gets created. Not so, of course, and there are a lot more socio-economic factors at work here than I care to discuss. Dizzee Rascal is one of the exceptions, and his life story reads similarly to that of most American hip hop artists, having grown up in a gritty East London neighborhood on council estates (the equivalent of the projects in America); he was involved with petty violence as a teenager before being “saved” by music and having his frustrations about the poverty and violence he faced as a young person explode in fascinating hip hop tracks.

Maths + English, which was released last year in the UK and finally got its US release a week ago, represents a departure for Dizzee. Every single track on the album could be played on American hip hop radio and fit right in, aside from Dizzee’s thick London accent. Previously, he experimented with blip hop, hip hop over computer-generated noises that sounded a lot like what comes out of a Playstation (there were erroneous rumors he recorded Boy in Da Corner, his first major release, on a Playstation) and his first efforts could be lumped in quite nicely with The Streets and other UK Garage and grime outfits (I have to call it UK Garage, meaning the hip hop-influenced genre of music that sprung from Britain’s late 90s house music explosion, rather than just garage, which for me, refers to early 1980s rock from New York City).

Maths + English still has Dizzee’s signature awesome blip hop beats, as in “Flex,” which, if I may influence any Seattle-area DJs, would sound bangin’ on the dancefloor with the bass turned up:

But he’s evolved to incorporated some really rockin’ guitars, straight synth beats and some old school drum machines and breakbeats (along with the requisite sirens) as in “Sirens”:

There’s no denying that track has finesse and flair in its production, has something to say both lyrically and musically, and is pretty confident and comfortable with itself.

“G.H.E.T.T.O” follows the format of other hip hop artists bragging how hardened they are and how hardened you are not, and how close to the streets they still are:

I’m G.H.E.T.T.O
Please don’t act like you don’t know
I stay called up when I roll,
I’m a lot of things but I’m not slow
I’m G.H.E.T.T.O
Hot and still my heart is cold,
I’ve been known to lose control
Cause problems everywhere I go.

So, alright, no new and innovative themes here; but my point is that Dizzee is making hip hop that isn’t distinctly in a category of British music anymore (i.e. UK Garage or grime), and he is doing it with an agility as an MC and producer that isn’t seen much anymore.

The album isn’t merely brilliant for what I think is an ability to “fit in” to some Americanized radio-friendly hip hop while still retaining its individuality. No, there are new and exciting things happening in many of the tracks. “Temptation” features Alex Turner of the Arctic Monkeys, and his vocals surprisingly lend a sense of gravity and seriousness over Dizzee’s furiously speedy spitting of the lyrics. Perhaps what is most surprising about this album is Dizzee’s lyrical agility. Personally, I’d like to see him and Twista get into a battle. I’m not sure who’d come out on top. “Excuse Me Please” is political and lyrically astute, about life in the London ghetto. It’s not a very cohesive album, but there is some amazing, innovative stuff here.

Finally, I want to give a wee mention to “Wanna Be,” the track that features Lily Allen. I can’t honestly decide if this track is brilliant or annoying. Allen’s voice kind of grates on my nerves anyway, but she is kind of cute here, except I’m not sure “cute” is what Dizzee should be going for. Except it’s fun. But annoying! Oh, I don’t know. Critics were similarly split with about half the reviews I read picking it as their favorite track and one reviewer describing it as “the worst assault on my ears in 2007.” I’ve listened to it like 6 times since I bought the album, so there must be something there, but I have to admit I sort of listen to it the way I listen to a track from Fergie Ferg, because it’s kind of a tranwreck. Here it is, decided for yourself:


Download Wanna Be

Read the Pitchfork review of the album.





Random Sunday – 5 Bands I Hate

4 05 2008

Inspired by this post on the LAist website, which was in turn inspired by this Yahoo list, I give you the top 5 bands I can’t stand. (By the way, the LAist blog post is worth a gander, as the author has the exact same feelings about Morrissey as I do. We worship the guy and yet can’t deny that he’s a douche. And yet, I also can’t deny that being a douche is part of, you know, being Morrissey, and that if he were suddenly not so damn cantankerous everyone – especially the NME – would be extremely perplexed. As much as I would love to see the NME’s cover story “Morrissey likes stuff!!!” being a douche is part of being Morrissey, I guess. But it’s still kind of annoying).

This is not a list of obvious choices. Creed? Yeah, they are annoying, and way too easy a target, and not as popular as they used to be. Everyone hates Creed (RIGHT? If not, the world I choose to live in is one where everyone hates Creed). So here are a list of other annoying “rock” bands.

5. Nickleback
Like Creed, they are probably an easy target, and yet they are still one of the biggest-selling rock bands ever. I blame them for Daughtry and regardless of whether or not I am correct to do so, I blame them for the horrific Buck Cherry. But more than that, I blame them for writing “Rock Star,” a terrible song with kind of an awesome video so catchy that now that I have written the words “Rock Star,” I have it stuck in my head. Damn you, Nickleback, and your stupid, benign, gentle Canadian rock, because it sucks. And it’s in my head.

4. Creedence Clearwater Revival
Note to John Fogerty. You were not born in the deep south. You are, in fact, from Berkeley, California, land of privilege. You never worked on a riverboat and you have never lived on the streets. There’s a reason that Tina & Ike Turner’s version of “Proud Mary” is better, and it’s because they can sing misery and the promise of freedom like they’ve lived it. Because they have. You were not “Born on the Bayou” and you are not black. You were notoriously assholeish to your bandmates and flaunted your so-called talent. Those might be decently-written songs, John, but you have no business singing them, and if your songs are only good when someone else sings them, you should be writing for Disney movies. Also, your voice is boring. I hate you because every time I go to a party, no matter what the age of the party-goers, songs of yours get lumped into the pile of music that gets played because people assume that no one hates Creedence, or – and I hate this too – CCR. Well, I do. I hate them.

3. Sublime
I was at a party last night and “Summertime” by Sublime came on. “Damn it,” I said. “I hate Sublime. Why were they ALWAYS on the radio when we were in high school? They suck.” My Northwest-raised companions looked at me like I was nuts and admitted they were not super-familiar with the song. “But ‘Date Rape,'” I said. “Why in the effing hell did we sing along to that song? It is actually about date rape and then prison rape. Why was that on the radio? It’s gross.” They shrugged. “I only knew it because my brother’s band at Stanford played it,” said one. The other friend gave me a look like she didn’t know what I was talking about. So, I think my hatred of Sublime is directly related to growing up in California, where they were an inescapable part of listening to the radio. Their easy-breezy reggae/Latin inspired rock was, to me, both vapid and occasionally gross when I was a teenager, and now that I listen to it as an adult, I find it vapid, gross, unoriginal, and, I assume, one of those things you have to do a lot of drugs to appreciate. If you have to do a lot of drugs to appreciate something, it’s not good, because I’ve seen people who are high on pot eat a lot of Funyuns. Sublime are the Funyuns of rock.

2. Radiohead
I’ll admit that I am probably wrong on this one. Radiohead are probably not my problem. My problem is with their fans and with rock critics, who treat Thom Yorke like he is the second coming of Jesus. But from the very first moment I heard “Creep” way back in the mid-90s, I wrote them off as, well, whiny. And that song is undeniably whiny and bad, as is “Fake Plastic Trees.” Since then, I am told they have produced some brilliant albums, none of which I have listened to. Sorry! I have had so many people tell me that I cannot call myself a music snob without an avowed love for Radiohead and their awesome lyric-writing that I just can’t pick up a Radiohead album without feeling like I am only listening to it because I’m supposed to. Well, I can and I do call myself a music snob even though I hate Radiohead for no good reason. Screw you.

And the rock band that annoys me the most is:

1. Pearl Jam
The 90s produced some excellent music made by low-voiced men who mumbled in low-tones. Pearl Jam and their annoyingly long-haired front man Eddie Vedder were not one of those bands. First of all, all of their songs sound exactly alike, even when they are covering “Last Kiss,” a song that was stupid in the 50s and even more stupid when Pearl Jam covered it in the 90s. Second of all, having a kind-of-creepy-low-toned voice and singing about misfits should get you one hit, maybe. I’m thinking of like the Crash Test Dummies (and “Mmm Mmm Mmm”) here. And yet! Pearl Jam have had hit after hit after bloody stupid hit. “Jeremy” was a mildly interesting song, kind of angry and different. “Daughter” was sort of the same song, but also passable as 70s-throwback stoner rock, but barely. They already sounded stale and that was only their second album. They were played all over the radio, sold out concerts, and won an AMA award for best “hard rock artist.” HA HA HA. Then Time put Eddie on the cover of its magazine as the poster child for grunge in October 1993, and that is the moment when grunge died, not on April 5th 1994 when Kurt Cobain was found dead.

The 90s should have been it for them! I’ve seen them live! They are just as boring live as they are on the radio! And they have sold 30 million albums!!! Ach, the whole thing just makes me so angry my eyes cross.

As if that weren’t enough they released live CD after live CD, inundating the music market with wasted space that could have been used for, like, an actually good band’s album. Now Eddie Vedder has a solo album, which will no doubt be exactly the same as a Pearl Jam album, and has released a single with BEN HARPER, the least rock & roll artist ever (granted, that single was in support of Iraq veterans, and it’s nice that Eddie gives a lot back, but could he please do it with BETTER MUSIC?).

Saying “I hate Pearl Jam” isn’t really new and inventive. Google it, and a whole bunch of blog entries come up, along with fan backlash, but since they still have fans, it needs to be said. Pearl Jam sucks.

***

It’s funny, I didn’t realize I had such bile for music stoners listen to. I’m sure the stoners have no bile for me, but I also just wish there weren’t a whole segment of rock dedicated to making boys who smoke a lot of weed happy. I rarely listen to anything that isn’t Bruce Springsteen or Elvis Costello or punk made between the years of 1968 and 1981, and that is pretty much the reason why. Stoned people, with the exception of the Beatles, do not make good music and they do not listen to good music. So there!