Ain't Nothin' Like The Real Thing

I got an e-mail notification this morning about ticket pre-sales for the upcoming Queen with Paul Rodgers tour in support of their new albun together. Rodgers, formerly of Free, Bad Company and the (thankfully) short-lived stint with Jimmy Page in The Firm, hooked up with two of the surviving members of Queen a few years ago. As much respect as I have for Brian May and Roger Taylor, using the name Queen in any way is an insult to the legacy of Freddie Mercury. Without Mercury, Queen is barely qualified to be a Princess (yes, I came up with that on my own - I'm soooo creative).

But Queen isn't the only band who's carrying on this type of charade. Journey has been touring and recording for years with a singer other than Steve Perry. And Foreigner has done the same sans Lou Gramm. In no way am I diminishing the contributions of May and Taylor of Queen, Neil Schon, Jonathan Cain of Journey, and Mick Jones of Foreigner, but these bands just aren't the same without the voices that took them to the top during their respective reigns at the top of the charts. There must be people out there willing to pay their hard-earned dollars to see these bands or else they wouldn't be touring, but what they're seeing is nothing more than a glorified version of live band karaoke. Do people really care to see that?

Yet Another Recommendation

Like me, anyone who saw the movie Elf was probably surprised to hear the angelic singing voice of actress Zooey Deschanel. So it shouldn't surprise you that she has teamed with M. Ward (who's played with Bright Eyes and co-produced the excellent Rabbit Fur Coat album by Jenny Lewis) to form the band She & He. Their debut album, Volume One, was released last month to critical acclaim (which is very well deserved, I might add). The album, with an ethereal sound not unlike Cat Power or Feist, features 9 songs written by Deschanel along with several covers (including a beautifully "country-fied" version of the Lennon/McCartney classic "I Should Have Known Better"). If you're brain is still functioning after all of the above references, do check it out.

Random Thoughts - The March Madness Edition

March Madness is upon us once again and for the first time in years, I decided NOT to enter a bracket pool. Getting my ass kicked over and over was getting old. That being said, here are some thoughts:

- Also getting old are the countless yahoo sports talk radio hosts and their callers who actually think that the rest of us give a shit about who their bracket picks are. It gets worse every year.

- I propose a new rule for basketball: no matter how many they have left, each team should be only allowed two 30-second timeouts in the final minute of a game. I just watched the end of the Xavier-Purdue second round game, and between the endless number of timeouts and the dumbass refs who couldn't figure out substitutions or the clock, it was the longest last minute of a basketball I've ever sat through.

- You've just moved on to the Sweet 16, not the Final Four - calm down with the celebration.

- Will CBS please retire "One Shining Moment" from our culture? If there is a cheesier, more outdated song out there, I haven't heard it.

- Does Bobby Knight not own a coat and tie? He looks like an idiot in his stupid trademark sweater while his ESPN studio cohorts are wearing suits. And another thing, Bobby: expanding the tournament field from 64 to 128 is an absolutely moronic idea.

Whatever Happened To.... Robert John?

Robert John was a guy who sounded like a girl, especially on his one hit, "Sad Eyes". And oh by the way, he's not related to Elton (whose real name is Reginald Dwight). According to the caption below his pic, he had also scored a hit with a remake of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". I can't imagine why anyone would want to re-make that song (unless of course you have a voice like his).

And speaking of guys who sing like chicks...

Whatever Happened To.... Nick Gilder?

Nick was a one hit wonder from the 70's who had hit with "Hot Child In The City". Like Robert John, I remember hearing this song as a kid and assuming it was a girl that was singing. I shocked to find out that Nicky was a man. And also like Robert John and others, he dropped off the face of the earth shortly afterwards. Great roller skating song by the way.

Another Re-discovery

Singer-songwriter Karla Bonoff came up during the mid-70's "California Rock" movement - a poor man's Linda Ronstadt if you will. In fact, Ronstadt recorded three of Bonoff's songs on her Hasten Down The Wind album. Her self-titled debut was recorded shortly afterward, complete with the usual California Rock suspects (J.D. Souther, Leland Sklar, Russ Kunkel, Waddy Wachtel, as well as Ronstadt and Don Henley) lending a hand. While her voice wasn't quite as strong or pretty as Ronstadt's, it was her songwriting that set her apart from the others in her genre. The album's highlight was a song that Ronstadt had recorded, "Lose Again", and was later recorded by Alison Krauss. She recorded a few more albums through the 80's, even scoring a Top 40 hit with 1982's "Personally". Two more of her songs, "Tell Me Why" and "All My Life", were hits for Wynonna and Linda Ronstadt/Aaron Neville, but she never could match the success of her SoCal peers. After her last album in 1988, she fell into oblivion.

That is, until now. I recently got my hands on a live album she released last year, and it is a remarkable performance. Her voice and her songs sound as fresh today as any current artist on the charts, leading me to delve into her back catalog of classic albums (especially the aforementioned first album). Check her out if you get a chance - you won't be dissapointed.

...So Put Away Your Make-up...

This is for the ladies out there (and I guess some of the cross-dressing men). Please be sure to put on your make-up before you leave the house or after you reach your destination. I can't tell you how many times I've nearly been struck or driven off the road by a female attempting to apply make-up while driving. From cell phones to stereos to maladroit pedestrians, there are enough distractions to deal with these days while attempting to operate a motor vehicle. We certainly don't need anything else thrown into the mix.

When I was a kid, my mom had what I guess I'd have to call a "talent" for applying make-up in her rear-view mirror while driving, and it would freak me the f**k out. I vividly remember being in the passenger seat while my mom steamrolled down Dexter Avenue in our two-toned Buick aircraft carrier station wagon. Suddenly, I'd notice our car veering slightly towards the parked cars on the side of the street. "Mom...Mom!...MOM!!!" And without even looking, she'd swerve back into her lane, narrowly avoiding the parked cars. The worst part of it was that after seeing my short life pass before my eyes with my chest heaving from panic, my mom would sit there behind the wheel and just laugh her ass off - torturing me in this way was deranged merriment for her own daily entertainment.

So please ladies - don't torment your kids or other drivers on the road. Find an alternative spot to make yourself pretty. Your car is not a powder room.

You're Kidding Me, Right?

Call girl laments use of exotic photos
By COLLEEN LONG, Associated Press Writer

NEW YORK - The lawyer for the call girl linked to the downfall of Gov. Eliot Spitzer lashed out at the media on Friday for thrusting the 22-year-old woman into the "public glare" without her consent and publishing revealing photos.

Since her identity was disclosed, newspapers and Web sites have splashed photos of Ashley Alexandra Dupre in suggestive poses on front and inside pages. Dupre was known as "Kristen" in court documents accusing Spitzer of paying thousands for prostitutes' services.

Her attorney, Don D. Buchwald, said she did not consent to the use of her photos in this manner, and the usage may be a violation of federal copyright laws. He said the photos have appeared on commercial Web sites without her consent.

Buchwald stopped short of saying Dupre would sue media outlets, but he contended that she is not a public figure and said he would take "all steps that we deem necessary or appropriate to protect Ms. Dupre from any unwarranted exploitation of her name, picture, voice or likeness for purposes of profit."

Let me get this straight. This girl feels exploited? She feels that her privacy has been violated? First of all, she's a prostitute - a PAID WHORE. Secondly, the man she canoodled with is not just a local yokel politician but the Governor of Friggin' New York. What did she expect was going to happen if and when this ever became public? And third, she was raking in six figures for sucking off this guy and others.

Are we supposed to feel sorry for this woman and honor her by suppressing her identity and photos? Hell no, we're not. And we all know what will happen. Her attorney will complain now and continue to attempt to portray his client as a victim. But in 6 months, he'll be brokering a deal on her behalf with MTV for a reality show and a top publisher for a book deal. A whore is still a whore.

Spring Break Memories

Spring break begins this weekend, and it conjures up plenty of nostalgia from my younger days. It's also the 20th anniversary of one of my more memorable spring breaks - senior year beach trip. Twenty years ago this week, nine of us piled into three cars and headed to Sandestin, FL, for a week of unchaperoned drunken frivolity. Somehow, we were able to obtain a reservation at the Sandestin Hilton. I can't remember how we pulled it off but I seem to remember one of the guys posing as his father on the phone.

The next order of business before our momentous departure was to buy the beer. My dear late friend, Andrew, determined that we would need 46 cases of Miller Lite to take with us. Why 46? Well, allow me to explain. Nine guys, five days, a case of beer each every day and one extra case just for the hell of it. My friend David worked part-time at a drug store and persuaded a 21 year-old co-worker to buy the beer for us at Sam's Club. We then transported the beer to my mom's basement for storage - she never knew about it, until one night years later when the horrible truth was revealed to her. In fact, we ended up having to take a third vehicle just to load the beer. Think about it. Nine underage boys transporting 46 cases of beer across state lines. How stupid were we?

Once we checked in, we realized it would be a long week. The space was no bigger than the standard hotel room with two double beds, one closet and a bathroom. How all nine of us were able to survive the week without killing each other is a miracle (probably had something to do with the beer consumption). The first thing we did upon our arrival was a ceremonial ear-piercing. The aforementioned Andrew had gotten his ear pierced recently, and told David that he could pierce his with little pain or difficulty. So David chugged a few beers and allowed Andrew to numb his ear lobe with ice and pierce it with a needle (a la Frenchy and Sandy in Grease). My friend Philip had brought a whole turkey that his mom had sent along for us to have each day for lunch. Although she had the best of intentions, the carcass ended up splattered all over the wall by the second day and remained there until we checked out. Needless to say, the room smelled like a rat's asshole by the end of our trip.

The rest of the week was a blur, but we did manage to consume all of the beer, which inevitably led to a massive beer can pyramid in the corner of the room. Another highlight was the night that a fire alarm went off, resulting in all of the hotel guests congregating in the lobby. My friend Rob met a girl during the confusion and was making positive progress... until we started hollering "Rob has a boner!" across the room, causing him to awkwardly attempt to change the subject and blush uncontrollably. He still hasn't gotten over it. But we all made it back in one piece with no one having been arrested or seriously injured (except for David's ear and Rob's ego).

I'll Have What He's Having

First of all, Governor Spitzer is a f**king idiot. We all make conscious choices in our lives, knowing that there are going to be consequences for ourselves as well as the other people in and around our lives. And it appears that this man made a series of stupid, selfish decisions.

That being said, I'm curious about one thing - and it's not about what this girl or any of the other girls that Spitzer propositioned actually look like. I have a pretty good idea of what a "classy" skank looks like. Just pick up a Playboy magazine or watch Passion Cove on Skinemax and you'll get an idea of what we're talking about here. No, I want to know just what exactly one gets for 4500 bucks (or whatever the amount was - I've seen conflicting reports). What could possibly be done to the male unit that's worth that much money? Me and my little buddy have had some good times and I have quite a vivid imagination, but I just can't seem to visualize what activity it is that would warrant a payment in the thousands of dollars. Any ideas?

A Daunting Endeavor

In an apparent attempt to rival Howard Stern as the King Of All Media, I have recently taken on a new challenge - writing a book. The idea was first presented to me last fall by my old buddy, Richard Murff, of the Saint Bob Press publishing empire. In a nutshell, it will be a non-fiction account of a rocker's discovery of jazz. I know that sounds utterly fascinating to you, but I can guarantee an entertaining read for the common man (or woman), regardless of what your taste in music may be. Since I've only penned freelance magazine articles and short rants on this blog, I have no idea what I'm getting myself into or how long this project will take to complete. But I've set a modest goal of having a complete draft done by the end of the summer and a finished book by the fall. And by this time next year, I feel certain that I can have the #733,684th best selling book on Amazon.com. May the force be with me.

I'm Old

I got an e-mail last week regarding my 20 year High School reunion, which is happening this summer. Damn, I'm getting old - what a pisser. The e-mail also asked if anyone with the necessary experience could help out with the class DVD. Having done that kind of thing before, I told "Coops" that I'd be happy to assist. Bam! Within five minutes, Coops responded with "Great - you're in charge of that." I whispered a resounding "Fuuuuuuuck" to myself a la Rick Vaughn trying on his new glasses in Major League. We had a committee meeting the other night to discuss the event. My first band from HS, Silent Majority, will be performing for the daytime festivities, which will include everyone's families. Just what the kiddies need - four bloated old rockers belting out butchered versions of "Born To Be Wild" and half the R.E.M. catalog.




I also realized the other day that I was getting old due to the fact that I was willingly rockin' out to Bob James & Earl Klugh - the same smooth-ass 70's jazz that I used to make fun of my dad for listening to when I was a kid. Just look at these album covers. How could one not be embarrassed to listen to this music? Between this, the reunion and the sir rant, I've finally begun facing my own mortality. Woe is me!