Up until this year, I'd never owned an iPod, and it's been years since I lost my portable CD Player (which didn't get as frequent a use because it was cumbersome). I got an iPhone for Christmas, and now I've got those little white speakers in my ears all the dang time. I take care to look both ways twice before I cross the street, and try to be conscious at all times, but still, I think I am going to get myself killed with these goddamn ear buds. Two days ago I was walking around in the grocery store, grumbling to myself about oblivious people who walk too slow and don't pay attention to their surroundings. Not thirty seconds after thinking these highly hypocritical thoughts, I turned around sharply and almost ran into someone. It was totally my fault. New rule: no more ear buds in the grocery store. Did you have to set rules for yourself when it comes to personal audio systems (or whatever they're called)? If so, what are they?
I'm sure most of y'all with the slightest ear to the web has already heard former Fleetwood Mac's guitarist, Bob Welch, has passed away. Sadly, it was not from natural causes, rather it was by his own hand. He was only 65.
I'd reckon you could say Welch was something of a rock legend via his involvement with Fleetwood Mac. He was one of the group's guitar players as they shifted from a strict British Blues outfit to a more radio friendly version of '70s rock. You can hear him playing on the clutch of albums perhaps now kinda forgotten,Future Games,Bare Trees, Penguin, Mystery To Me, and Heros Are Hard To Find. I say forgotten as they were all issued in the four years prior to the Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks joining. Uh...like THAT is the SUPERSTAR Fleetwood Mac most everyone is familiar with...Rumors and Fleetwood Mac. After he split from the Mac he had some solo success with "Sentimental Lady" along with a handful of later singles, but he couldn't maintain hits and slipped into semi-obscurity in the '80s.
While I like the records he made with the Mac, I know Welch best as guitarst in the Seven Souls, a multi-racial, group soul, group. Their "I Still Love You," from 1967, still remains a stand out track from a label, Okeh, which was PACKED with stand out jams. "I Still Love You" credits Welch as writer.
It's flip, "I'm No Stranger," is equally bad ass. Uh-huh, that is two sides of solid sophistication, so much so if Welch had quit THEN, in 1967, this single would still carry his weight as legend.
But Dominic thinks that new wave is the genre's most recent development [This is a blatant lie that I made up and now feel terrible about], so we'll not even get started on him today. Paul, however, has debatably been paying attention and, in this week's music lead, entitled The Caretaker: Only Jack White Can S(t)ave Rock and Roll from Obscurity, writes:
Rock and roll made that shift from an active idea into a passive idea a decade or two ago; this is what most people mean when they say that rock and roll is dead. You can smush rock together with some other regional sound for an explosion of novelty—remember Vampire Weekend?—but every major idea behind rock and roll has been dissected and examined to death. When you're dealing with white guys playing electric guitar, all you can do is maneuver around the different parts of the ceremony to make aspects feel slightly fresher, but it's all ultimately a tribute to some idea that's been leached clean of nutrients by previous generations.
Macho Man Randy Savage, his real name was Randy Mario Poffo, died one year ago yesterday, May 20th, 2011. Now, I'm not a guy who likes watching wrestlers wrestle, although my brother did, but Macho Man Randy Savage will always be my favorite, uh, favorite wrestler who was also Slim Jim™ pitch man!! Like, I never understood what he was saying. "Napinnew a nim nim!" ...was what was he usually said!? I think? Wait, has there been any other Slim Jim™ pitch men? Whatever, so...I had no idea till like, last week, MMRS had a fucking RECORDING CAREER!? And also, that he had died in a car crash after a possible heart attack. Anyway, these two tracks are my personal faves from his seminal rap compact disc of the early oughties...I hope you're sitting down.
"I'm Back" is Macho, breaking it down as the new king of hiphop...of 2003, duh!!! Do you wanna know, IS RANDY DOING HIS THING? Oh, fuck YEAH he's back..."with good chemistry (him) and big three are about to shock the whole industry!" Yes, it's true, the shock waves from this album are still being felt. Wicked.
"Whats It All About" is a tender joint about how MMRS feels about his pretty lady: "I wanna keep you happy, not just financially, but mentally, physically, romantically"...truth y'all, truth.
Yeah, there you go! WHO KNEW?! Amazon has copies on offer, new copies rate about $55...yeah, I'm not kidding. And if his jams ain't enough, dig this soundboard full of awesome quotes!!
His fraternal twin brother and fellow Bee Gee Maurice died of a heart attack in 2003. His younger brother, solo pop star Andy, committed suicide died in 1988 at the age of 30. That leaves just Barry Gibb stayin' alive.
If an imaginary plane full of musicians crashed high in the Andes Mountains, forcing survivors to endure three months of the harshest high-altitude conditions imaginable, and do unspeakable things to survive...
by Dave Segal
on Wed, May 2, 2012 at 11:17 AM
This is not a question to be taken lightly. Let’s say you’re on your deathbed. You know the end is near. You want to exit this mortal coil on a momentous note. What song to do you ask your loved ones (best-case scenario: many are by your side) to play? The song ideally will do the following: induce pleasant reveries; make you feel important; inflate your soul (let’s just assume you have one, for efficiency’s sake); and ease your transition into the afterlife. That’s asking a helluva lot of one song. But I think some of ’em can handle the burden.
Here are the candidates for my ultimate swan song, in descending order.
by Kelly O
on Tue, Apr 17, 2012 at 10:31 AM
Tupac backstage at Coachella, err, I mean, at Madame Tussauds Wax Museum
The full Coachella "performance"...
I'm just getting back from weekend one of Coachella. I have lots of pictures yet to come, but can I say, first, I'm still reeling from seeing Tupac Shakur rise from the dead? The Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg festival grand finale was killing me 'cause it was so amazing and flawlessly executed (think: 20 years of Snoop and Dre classics including an NWA song, then live onstage cameos by Wiz Khalifa and his pro-pot smokey song "Young, Wild and Free", Kendrick Lamar with Dre on new song "The Recipe," 50 Cent and early jams like "Wanksta" and "In Da Club", and Eminem performing "Forgot About Dre.")
It was fun, standing waaaay back in what must have been the two-hundredth row, and guessing the rappers as they hit the stage and the giant video jumbotrons. When a tattooed, shirtless mystery guy appeared—everyone standing near us argued who it could possibly be. I said, "Whoever that is, it sure looks like Tupac." It wasn't until the end of the set, that my theory was confirmed. Was it creepy to see a man, murdered over a decade ago, walking and talking to the audience? ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY.
More importantly is this technology the mark of a new concert trend?
Tonight I felt like a pile of loose explosives that has finally been manufactured into fireworks. The fireworks are cheap, but can easily be loaded into a remote-controlled car, lit and driven through crowds. I used to just put my feet in two remote-controlled cars and stand alone in my apartment, with the doors locked so no one could come in and use me to blow themselves up.
by Dave Segal
on Tue, Feb 28, 2012 at 8:47 AM
Aaron Bolton was driving from his home in Missoula, Montana to the Seattle club Re-bar Sunday to pick up new speakers for the Badlander/Palace venue he co-ran with Chris Henry (they both owned the Ear Candy record store, too). Tragically, Bolton never made it to his destination; his body was found in the water near Pier 57 in Elliott Bay at 7 am Monday. According to reports by KOMO and the Missoula Independent, police found no evidence of foul play or trauma. Bolton was 36.
Aaron Bolton was a skilled drummer and keyboardist for the rock band Mines and an accomplished DJ/producer of techno. (You can hear Mines music here. You can download the album for free, but any amount you pay will go to Bolton's family to help cover funeral costs.) In the early ’00s, he occasionally performed live with renowned Berlin-via-Seattle producer Bruno Pronsato. Bolton is also credited with coining the name “Decibel” for Seattle’s world-class electronic-music festival of that name. RIP, Aaron Bolton.
If this seems invasive, remember that our subject co-starred in a television series in which all she did was stumble around and yell at people.
Whitney Houston is tragically dead, and I'm not here to guess at what killed her (drink/drugs/drowning/combo platter?) I'm here to guess at what drove her toward the things that killed her, and if this seems invasive and of dubious morality, remember that our subject co-starred in a television series in which all she did was stumble around and yell at people. (Two wrongs don't make a right, but it's a good start.)
Whitney Houston Destruction Myth #1: She lived her life as a deeply religious closeted lesbian. Rumors about Houston and her ever-present best friend Robyn Crawford date back to the earliest '90s, and proponents of this myth posit a timeline that has Houston seeking to squash the rumors that were torturing her mother and jeopardizing her career by marrying Bobby Brown in 1992. Mythmakers contend that the mindfucking heartbreak of leaving the love of her life for a sham marriage inspired Whitney to become a serious user of the things that would eventually lead to her death.
Whitney Houston Destruction Myth #2: She was a deeply religious African-American woman who allowed herself to be shaped into the the peppy pop doll the world fell in love with via "How Will I Know?" and "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." After years spent playing this "Black Barbie" role, Houston was fed up with "the burden of perfection" and ready to rebel, and had a vast fortune with which to fuel her rebellion. This myth basically casts the whole second half of Houston's life, from her marriage to Bobby Brown on, as one long (perhaps subconscious) fuck you to anyone who bought the Whitney Houston Doll image of the '80s.
Whitney Houston Destruction Myth #3: Like everyone else on earth, Whitney Houston was complicated. Also, partying is fun, Whitney Houston liked to party, and she had the means to make it a second career.
To conclude this cavalcade of wrongness, a poll.
Which Whitney Houston Destruction Myth seems to contain the most truth as you see it?
Nice one Sony...Houston's catalog, within hours of her death, just got a leetle more expensive.
...Sony Music increased the price of "The Ultimate Collection" at about 4 a.m. Sunday, not even 12 hours after news broke of Houston's death. Fans were quick to point fingers at Apple for the anti-sale, but it turned out that when Sony bumped up the wholesale price of "The Ultimate Collection," iTunes and other retailers automatically upped their pricing.
Read all about it right HERE! Gross, Sony...just gross.
Following news of Whitney's death today, sources initially reported that Ray was the one who had found the singer dead. Ray J's rep later refuted those allegations.
Now this is something I did not know: Ray J and Houston were an item.
Rumors swirled about the two as early as 2007. Despite the 17-year age difference, they were seen at industry gatherings like Jay-Z and LeBron James' All-Star game party as well as romantic dinners in Los Angeles at hot spots like Crustacean. They would be on-again/off-again for several years and the relationship would be riddled with gossip involving their respective exes.
The AP is reporting that Whitney Houston is dead, at age 48. There are lots of contenders, but this is my favorite Whitney Houston song. If I were a woman with this kind of range, it would be my favorite karaoke song by a mile: