DAVID THORPE

The Big Hurt: The YouTube anime mystery

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 23:03:34 GMT

What the hell is wrong with the Internet? Thorpe utterly fails to investigate . . .
YouTube is now so shockingly complete in its catalogue of illegally uploaded music that it's like a cheap jukebox that plays every song, ever.

VIDEO: Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" set to some sweet anime footage

YouTube is now so shockingly complete in its catalogue of illegally uploaded music that it's like a cheap jukebox that plays every song, ever. Sometimes I'll be writing this godawful column late at night and pause to hunt down a clip for reference — like, if I'm trying to find the right word to describe Chad Kroeger's surfmullet ("soggy") — and I'll keep clicking "related" until I'm three hours deep in an inescapable YouTube abyss. Just such a thing happened tonight, as I was halfway through writing the column that I would have turned in if I hadn't been too distracted by YouTube (a lil' poststructuralist treatise on Roland Barthes's "Death of the Author" vis-à-vis America's "Horse with No Name," no big deal): I hopped on YouTube for a sec to investigate some America beard details, and hours later I was gagging at the not-uncommon sight of Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat" set to some sweet anime footage by an utterly misguided human being. I suddenly realized that I've been taking for granted just how weird this shit is.

You've probably noticed, if you're the type who'll type the name of a song into YouTube whenever you have the urge to hear it, that a bunch of weird anime fan clips always show up in every search result. Look up any artist or song title on YouTube — anything that's been remotely popular in the last 40 years or so — and you'll find the inexplicable anime version. I'm not kidding about Leonard Cohen: if you're so inclined, you can watch "First We Take Manhattan" beautifully juxtaposed with a buxom lass in a giant robot suit blowing up helicopters. You can watch some kid with a tail dancing with half a dozen Pokemon-esque creatures to the tune of Tom Waits. Any artist. Any song. It's all been set to anime by the friendless teenage autists of America, for reasons inaccessible to neurotypical man.

How did it start? Was it Matthew Sweet's well-loved "Girlfriend" video, in which blistering Robert Quine solos were paired with images from a Japanese television series called, yes, Space Adventure Cobra? Wikipedia, which has an absurdly detailed article about "Anime Music Videos," provides little insight into the history of the form, though it does tell us more than we'd like to know about the editing methods and legal implications. Lucky for you, I'm a terrible journalist, and I feel no obligation to investigate. Let's just enjoy this for what it is: retarded.

The Big Hurt: Weezy unplugged

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 16:35:07 GMT

Plus Auerbach unbound and Glitter undeterred
Our dream of a post-racial America moved one space closer to "king me" on the checkerboard of terrible metaphors this week

Our dream of a post-racial America moved one space closer to "king me" on the checkerboard of terrible metaphors this week: LIL WAYNE hyped himself up as the first hip-hop artist ever to perform at the Country Music Association Awards (which is pretty impressive, since, y'know, rappers have been trying to get on the Country Music Awards forever). Exciting, yeah? But when Weezy took the stage with KID ROCK to perform "All Summer Long," a funny thing happened: he forgot to rap. He just bounced around, "playing" a guitar (inaudibly, of course — anyone who's seen the notorious YouTube clips of him abusing a hapless ax at concerts will know that no producer in his or her right mind would let him plug in an instrument on national television).

In case you're wondering what the deal is, check out this flabbergasting quote from MTV: "A source close to the situation told MTV News on Thursday that Wayne didn't rap in order to keep things fresh — that the duo did not want to copy what they had done at the VMAs [where Wayne had rapped along with Kid] and figured Weezy playing guitar was a fly new take on their collaboration." Cool, I think I'll show up to my job tomorrow in a bathrobe and make fake type-type motions on the keyboard all day, because that's a fly new take on work.

Of course, being naturally sympathetic toward Lil Wayne and instinctively hostile toward country music, I'm guessing the producers nixed the rap element in order to prevent a surging cracker riot. Aside from Wayne's brief appearance, the ceremony was largely unimpeded by non-crackerdom; the "Best New Artist" award even went to a band called "Lady Antebellum." Classy!

Side note: interesting that Wayne's people would put out a press release calling him the first hip-hop artist to perform on the show. What about COWBOY TROY? Have we forgotten about Cowboy Troy? Where the fuck is the love for Cowboy Troy?

"We're trying to fill the void," proclaims the lead tit from GOOD CHARLOTTE in an MTV interview. "Like, I think there's a need for a new Blink-182 album, and they're not working on an album. I'm a huge Blink-182 fan, but I think in general there's a void there for music like that, and in this moment, we're making a record that kind of answers to that void." How could any self-respecting music journalist let that kind of outrage pass unchallenged? Isn't that kind of shit grounds for a flying tackle and a citizen's arrest? Furthermore, why is anyone even holding a microphone up to the mouth of this person when journalistic resources could be more usefully spent holding a beer stein up to the urethra of a horse?

The Big Hurt: The Obama jubilance debriefing

DAVID THORPE — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 00:38:50 GMT

When celebrities celebrate, metaphors suffer
Obama is the first president in history to drop a HOVA reference in a campaign speech by way of a little hand-brushy motion, and rappers turned out in droves to support him.

Little trivia question for you guys: which beloved left-wing luminary was born in the early '60s to a white mother and a Kenyan father, called Chicago home, and graduated with honors from Harvard? The answer, of course, is TOM MORELLO of RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. As he enthused to Spinner.com over his doppelgänger's victory: "I honestly thought I'd never live to see this day. Obama's election is a huge step toward civilization for a country whose past is so steeped in racism."

It's understandable that Morello, given his Obama-similar background and his reputation as one of rock and roll's most passionate political voices, would be pressed for comment on the election. I guess music journos are feeling a bit left out: the big-kid media get to gab about the new president all day, but the music press is supposed to go back to talking about the new JAMIE FOXX album? No fuckin' way. How about this, guys: let's spend a few weeks calling up every musician in the world ever and asking what they all think.

It's a particularly big deal for the hip-hop community; Obama is the first president in history to drop a HOVA reference in a campaign speech by way of a little hand-brushy motion, and rappers turned out in droves to support him. MTV reports he managed to lure some new faces to the polls; it's kind of surprising to hear that NAS, one of the sharpest dudes in the music industry, is a first-time voter in '08. Then again, Nas's political messages have often come from a wary place: "I'm out for presidents to represent me/(Say what?)/I'm out for dead presidents to represent me." Seems he's finally found a live one — he released an impromptu track called "Election Night" to celebrate the victory:

"We standing on line when we normally don't/People praying black people too lazy to vote/Rain, snow, and sleet/How many old folks been through Jim Crow, tears going down they cheeks."

For further heartwarmingness, consult new victory tracks from JAY-Z and COMMON and the one from devoted Obamaniac WILL.I.AM. BUSTA RHYMES wins best chorus: "We pop champagne for Barack's campaign." At this rate, we'll still be catching up with hot Obama celebration tracks well into the first months of the Palin presidency. (Ow, that hurt to write.)

Say it ain't so, Joe

DAVID THORPE — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 20:26:49 GMT

Breaking: Biden resigns the vice-presidency amid Wentzgate scandal
Breaking: Biden resigns the vice-presidency amid Wentzgate scandal

Can I take back my vote? This new administration has already forfeited my trust. Regard this mortifying quote from PETE WENTZ: "If it weren't for JOE BIDEN, I would not exist as a human being." Pete's parents met while working on a Biden campaign long ago, you see, so Joe Biden indirectly aided in the production of Pete Wentz, which was a disgusting and criminally reckless act. I thought you were cool, Joe.

It hurts. During the presidential race, I even had a dream about Joe: the media were freaking out over a highly publicized series of Biden "gaffes" but it turned out he'd just been casually swearing during speeches. Like, "I'll tell you who's not going to raise your taxes: [points to self with thumbs] this motherfucker." He was also being interviewed on the beach by a terrifying female bodybuilder, and he kept pointing to his biceps and talking about his "guns." Seriously, I had this dream. In fact, I just forgave Joe Biden for the Wentz thing, because he inserted a dream into my brain, and the dream ruled — and I rule.

This was such non-news that it completely slipped by me for more than a month: HARD ROCK PARK, the $400 million baby-boomer jerk-off theme-park travesty, has filed for bankruptcy after losing an assload of money. Oh, really? Nobody wanted to fly to South Carolina and pay $50 to ride your retarded Moody Blues roller-coaster and live out some heinous rich guy's bizarre miscalculation of a rock-and-roll fantasy? Nobody wanted to see "Phonehenge," your Stonehenge made of phone booths? Even though it's really clever?

But of course the flamboyant idiocy of the thing isn't the problem. It's the credit crunch, they say, and gas prices. They're planning to restructure and reopen the park for the 2009 season, and I hope it makes everyone involved even broker. I'm not generally one to wish others ill (snort!), but I really hope Hard Rock Park execs lose their wives and houses and life savings over this shit, and I hope their kids can't go to college and they have to make clothes out of their pets and burn their underwear for fuel, and then I hope their zippers chafe them in sensitive areas.

Interview: Girl Talk

DAVID THORPE — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 19:31:45 GMT

David Thorpe chats up Gregg Gillis
David Thorpe chats up Gregg Gillis

Riot act: Girl Talk plays a little bit of everything. By Michael Alan Goldberg.

It's been another big year for Gregg Gillis of Girl Talk, the high-powered sample blender who mixes dozens of songs into hyperactive dance tracks. His 2006 album Night Ripper put him on the national stage and hit the best-of lists of a bunch of major publications. This year's Feed the Animals, released online this summer and coming November 11 to ye olde physical CD, has blown up even bigger. There was even a fuckin' painting of him in the New Yorker.

Did you notice there was a fuckin' painting of you in the New Yorker?
Yeah! I saw it, a friend of mine told me that the arm hair was incredibly accurate.

There were some other people with paintings in that issue: it was you, Brad Pitt, Sarah Palin, and Machiavelli.
There we go. Those are my contemporaries right there. Being in the New Yorker is an honor — the painting is classic, I was cracking up when I saw it, I thought it was really funny. I've had some fan art sent to MySpace, but no official paintings in the New Yorker prior to that.

Last we talked, I was saying you had a pretty big year in 2006, but this has been a lot crazier.
Yeah, yeah. I think everything has continually been building. It really hasn't stopped — when Night Ripper hit in 2006, I was anticipating it plateauing off after a few months, but it's just been kind of picking up, picking up, picking up.

With the new album, you did the online Radiohead pay-what-you-want gambit. Did that work out to your satisfaction?
Yeah, I literally had zero goals with releasing the album as far as financial mark or what was going to happen. My main concern with releasing it as "pay what you want" was how seriously people would take it; would they not treat it as legitimate as an actual CD? But we had no problems with that. We released the album and the weekend after, in the next shows, everyone kinda knew the songs already. So, yeah, it was a huge success — I knew there was a group of people out there kind of hitting me up every day, waiting for it, and then they were able to download it for whatever they want basically three days after I was done.

The Big Hurt: Peace capes

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 15:47:15 GMT

Plus Moz yarns, Osmond extensions
The dismissal of the drunk-driving case against Britney Spears has brought a ceremonial end to the downfall that ushered in a new Golden Age of tabloid journalism.

The dismissal of the drunk-driving case against BRITNEY SPEARS has brought a ceremonial end to the downfall that ushered in a new Golden Age of tabloid journalism. Let’s all take a moment to reflect on the good times, those salad days when every week brought a dose of delicious schadenfreude, when we woke up every morning thinking, “This is it, this shall be the day when she finally does a bunch of PCP and commits seppuku on live TV (and maybe we’ll get to see her genitals again).” But alas, now she’s “together” enough to begin discussions about starring in her own weepy bio-pic, which will of course lack the tragic, hilarious ending for which we all so desperately hoped.

MORRISSEY, it’s reported, is planning to publish his memoirs and set the record straight on his lifetime of scandalous headlines. “So much crap is written about me,” he told a BBC interviewer (no doubt referring to this writer), “it’s hard to live with sometimes.” Soon after this announcement, Brad Pitt and Frances McDormand stole an unfinished copy and tried to sell it to the dude from JAMES.

Famously cagy about his sexuality, Mooze continued the interview with some praise for his new album, which I prefer to read as a veiled comment on his male anatomy: “It’s fantastically strong. It’s very, very strong, and it’s interesting for me after all these years, but it’s the strongest.” That’s what he or she said!

And if you’re wondering what happened to Years of Refusal, which was supposed to come out this month: it’s been bumped back to March 1, 2009. No! By then, we will have spent our last $16 on the new NICKELBACK album!

MICHAEL JACKSON raised eyebrows this month by moving into a new Las Vegas pad that just happens to be right across the street from an elementary school. Since the King of Pop has been acquitted in the whole childy-touchy affair, I don’t think it’s legal to make jokes about him being a slavering pedophile skeleton, so you’re just going to have to use your imagination. But don’t use your imagination too much, you sick bastard.

In other Vegas news, DONNY AND MARIE OSMOND have extended their contract as the headlining act at the fabulous Flamingo. If you have any wee inclination to give a shit about this news, I’m kind of surprised you made it this far into the column, because, wow, you’re really not the demographic I’m going for.

Stayin’ alive

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 22:40:53 GMT

How to survive without resorting to disco
Once in a while, usually during slow rock weeks, some strange little “quirky news” story will get stuck in the media craw and bounce around uselessly to pretty much every outlet.

Once in a while, usually during slow rock weeks, some strange little “quirky news” story will get stuck in the media craw and bounce around uselessly to pretty much every outlet. Just such a story sprang up last week and seemed to follow me everywhere I looked: it’s been reported (all over the place) that the song “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees could help the process of CPR — it runs at about 103 beats per minute, the approximate rate of chest compressions recommended during resuscitation. Therefore, keeping the song’s tempo in mind and following the beat could indeed aid in stayin’ alive.

The story probably sounds like a forgettable, well-meaning little dalliance to you, but there’s something about seeing it pop up a dozen times that made me start to think (though that sort of story is generally designed to do the opposite): do we really need to be revived with the aid of disco? There must be hundreds of songs out there with the same tempo, so can’t our doctors come up with something a little less ignominious?

One disco-weary Dr. Gilbert was quoted in the story as digging slightly deeper into the matter: “I heard a rumor that ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ works also, but it didn’t seem quite as appropriate.” Consulting a beat-matching reference Web site for DJs — www.djbpmstudio.com — I discovered that he wasn’t quite on the money, since the Queen track clocks in at about 110 BPM.

I did, however, find dozens of wonderfully suitable 103 BPM options on the site. If Dr. Gilbert is a Queen fan, he might consider “Who Wants To Live Forever,” since it has the right pace and a slightly more positive message. There’s also Simple Minds’ “Alive and Kicking” and the Rolling Stones’ “You Can Make It If You Try.” If you’re more of a hip-hop person, you could even time your efforts to Nas’s recent mixtape track “Don’t Body Yourself.” For that matter, Amy Winehouse’s “Fuck Me Pumps” runs around 103, though that title strikes me as a pretty ghoulish idea for lifesaving chest compressions.

If the patient seems to be slipping past the threshold of death and in need of resurrection, I hope some hep citizen will pick an appropriate track. House of Pain’s “Guess Who’s Back” clocks in at 103, as does Kris Kross’s “Warm It Up.” Although it’s a little melancholy, the classic Suede B-side “The Living Dead” is also about the right speed; it would be particularly appropriate to counteract a heroin overdose. Suede also taketh away, however: your pumps might be encouraged by the well-timed beats of “She’s Not Dead,” but be careful not to slip into the similar tempo of their later “He’s Gone.”

Offa my couch, Larroquette

DAVID THORPE — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 19:59:57 GMT

Foos fight McCain, Madonna pans Palin, Heart hearts Barack
In a video posted to his Web site, former Rolling Stone Ringo Starr has lovingly warned his fans to stop sending him fan mail.

In a video posted to his Web site, former Rolling Stone RINGO STARR has lovingly warned his fans to stop sending him fan mail. “I’m warning you with peace and love, I have too much to do,” says the drummer. “So no more fan mail. Thank you. No more objects to be signed. Nothing.” I have no objection to his desire to live his life unencumbered by enormous volumes of mail, but I do strenuously object to the proposition that he’s got shit to do.

LILY ALLEN has announced a title change for her upcoming album, from Smile to It’s Not Me It’s You. It would seem she’s mistaking it for her MySpace status.

KEANE, named after Family Circus auteur Bill Keane, have announced a few “free” shows to promote the release of their new album, but I urge you to consider the true cost: you will be complicit in crimes against culture, and after my inevitable rise to power, my brutal regime will be unkind to your ilk.

Some maniac record label is actually suing LIL’ KIM for not making an album. What is this, Bizarro World?

Alack: the release of the new FALL OUT BOY album has been pushed back six weeks, and not to resort to hyperbole or anything, but every teenager now knows the agony of Christ as he died for all mankind. The album, Folie à Deux, was going to be released on November 4, but they reconsidered the cuteness of that gimmick.

MADONNA, as if anyone cared, has banned SARAH PALIN from her concerts. “Sarah Palin can’t come to my show. It’s nothing personal,” she announced on stage at one show. Yeah, I’m sure Sarah is a huge Madonna fan who had the tickets and everything, and now she’s just sitting there crying and reading the liner notes to Erotica and reconsidering her opinions on abortion. In other, equally important news, I hereby ban JOHN LARROQUETTE from my couch (See? Only works if the other person giiiiives a shiiiiit.) I totally don’t really, though, because he’s rad, and pow! — now you have the theme from Night Court stuck in your head for the next three days.

And, not music news, but did you hear that HUSTLER is making a Sarah Palin–inspired porn movie? This truly is the most important erection of our time.

The Big Hurt: The week in digital mishaps

DAVID THORPE — Thu, 16 Oct 2008 02:16:55 GMT

Internets threaten Kid Rock, Steven Tyler, and sexy bits
Say what you will about Kid Rock, but I will not allow you to deny that the man is a fucking artiste .

Say what you will about KID ROCK — go ahead, say it, I’ll even pause the column for a second while you dig up some quips from your well-thumbed Jeff Foxworthy joke book — but I will not allow you to deny that the man is a fucking artiste. Like so many rock greats before him, he sees his albums as cohesive musical experiences that can’t be chopped apart into singles. This view puts him at odds with the likes of STEVE JOBS, the soulless Apple fat cat who believes that all albums must be butchered of context and sold in chunks to the slavering digital masses. Their disagreement, along with the famously artist-unfriendly iTunes royalty rates, has made the stringy-haired cowboy rebel one of the last holdouts against the digital juggernaut.

Kid Rock’s refusal to put his major-label material on iTunes has coincided with a period of great commercial success. Even without digital sales, his ridiculous single “All Summer Long” has been a solid hit on the strength of heavy touring and steady airplay — which is surprising, since the track seems custom-designed to be patently offensive to rock fans. (And that’s “rock” without the capital R; its overbearing Puffy-style sampling swipes the riffs from the revered “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Werewolves of London,” tying them together with a flimsy melody and a distinct lack of original hooks.)

The digital demand for the track has been so great that a ridiculous iTunes cottage industry has sprung up to fill the Kid vacuum, with virtually identical karaoke versions recorded by gener-aoke acts like “Hit Masters,” “The Rock Heroes,” “Guitar Band,” and “The Southern All Stars” selling in the hundreds of thousands — it’s eerily reminiscent of those old “Liverpool Lads” and “English Beetles” records from the ’60s. The Hit Masters version, considered by fake-Kid-Rock connoisseurs to be the finest of the knockoffs, actually pulled a few spots ahead of Kid’s original in the pop charts a couple of months ago. Seriously.

The Big Hurt: Rotten butter

DAVID THORPE — Thu, 09 Oct 2008 00:41:39 GMT

John Lydon spreads it on thick. Plus, intrusive devices and CGI pissoirs

FALL OUT BOY shocker: PETE WENTZ not stoked to collaborate with Nokia? In a now deleted blog post, the heartthrob tweenbait bassist lashed out against the iTunes debut of the “I Don’t Care” video, which featured quite a few intrusive product-placement shots of Nokia cellphones. “The version of the video that we worked on night after night is not the version that aired,” said Wentz, “yet somehow a cut full of glorious camera-phone shots did.”

What’s the big deal? Fall Out Boy are pioneers of video product placement, having already hawked Nokia phones and Tag body spray in their “Thnks Fr Th Mmrs” video. Some speculate Pete is mad that his personal for-the-fans iTunes cut wound up tainted with commerce. According to Wentz, the video was supposed to be a statement condemning “dudes wearing eyeliner and hawking energy drinks.” Might want to wipe off the raccoon eyes and spit the corporate teat out of your mouth before you start attempting such bold statements of principle, ass.

You guys. You guys. I heard some news about CLAY AIKEN that you’re not going to fucking believe.

At last, my lingering doubts have been put to rest: SLASH, legend in the twin worlds of guitar and top hats, has endorsed BARACK OBAMA. “I agree with a lot of his stuff,” declared Slash in a recent NME Radio interview. I guess that means my time as an undecided is over, since I’m a lifelong straight-ticket Snakepit voter.

Actual CNN headline: “BONO pumps fist about end of malaria.” Yesss!

Gold-standard class act ADNAN GHALIB, known for nurturing former girlfriend Britney Spears through her most troubled period, has admitted to owning a sex video of himself and the resurgent star. “There is such a tape,” he told Heat magazine, “but I won’t discuss prices for hypothetical enquiries. Unless there is a locked-in deal, I will go no further.” He’s not all bad, though: “I am not interested in selling out any other details about Britney.” Of course, most of her details are already in the public domain as the result of a series of ill-advised drunken car dismounts.

Eeyew: her most troubled period? Did I really write that? Oh well, can’t go back and change it now.

From the “Yeah, Right” file: MY BLOODY VALENTINE are now said to be working on two albums of new material — which doubles the statistical likelihood that we’ll never hear a new My Bloody Valentine album again. In related news: the rock-solid new GUNS N’ ROSESChinese Democracy release date is November 25. Bet the farm on this one, folks!

Rate expectations

DAVID THORPE — Thu, 02 Oct 2008 00:03:58 GMT

The Big Hurt: World-class criticism priced to move!
Grim economic news makes me pretty nervous.

Grim economic news makes me pretty nervous. I get by as a writer, but that’s a skill that won’t be much use in the inevitable Thunderdome situations of the coming years. I can’t fight or build stuff; my tiny pink hands, unsuited as they are for labor, will doubtless wind up as gruesome baubles hanging from the neck of Lord Humungus. My best bet is to save my money now in the distant hope of buying a bunch of gold or gasoline just before the fall of civilization and propping myself up as tin-pot warlord in the savage ruins of America.

So, that means I have to use what little time is left to monetize the hell out of this little writing operation. Although it’s a disgusting affront to my own integrity and the reputation of this newspaper, I’m delighted to announce that my services are officially FOR SALE!

Musicians and publicists, take note: David Thorpe offers critical excellence at rock-bottom prices!

OPTIMISTIC REVIEW: $50 | Nothing sets the stage for success like an upward trajectory, and a hint of cautious optimism in a professional review just might be your first step toward greatness. Although this review will be overwhelmingly negative, probably citing your execrable musicianship and total lack of originality, your $50 will buy a whole lot of room for improvement: “With time, [YOUR NAME] might break free of the shackles of mediocrity and blossom into a bearable act.” In the immortal words of Bad Company, “Don’t you know that you are a shooting star/And the whole world will love you just as long as you are?”

FAINT PRAISE: $75 | In today’s oversaturated rock market, even the slightest critical notice seems beyond the reach of the average working musician. For the frugal troubadour who knows how to settle for less, I offer an assortment of modest adjectives at fantastic prices: “[YOUR NAME] combines capable songwriting with workmanlike vocals for an overall effect that is, in a word, Wallflowers-esque.”

FAVORABLE B-LIST COMPARISON: $85 | Want to see your name mentioned alongside the minor movers and shakers of the music industry? Favorable comparisons like these let you break into the mainstream without breaking the bank: “[YOUR NAME] combines the jaw-dropping originality of Jet with the guitar pyrotechnics of Ben Folds”; “[YOUR NAME] has as much talent in her little finger as Katy Perry has in her little finger.”

The Big Hurt: Hagar the horrible

DAVID THORPE — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 22:49:08 GMT

Plus award-winning awards and buggering Beatles
I was reading a fascinating article about Sammy’s new record deal, and an epiphany struck: every year, Sammy looks more and more like the Dude.

I mentioned SAMMY HAGAR just two weeks ago, so reporting on him again already is pushing it, but hear me out. I was reading a fascinating article about Sammy’s new record deal, and an epiphany struck: every year, Sammy looks more and more like the Dude. And since I have the audacity to call this a “news” column, here’s a fact: his upcoming album, Cosmic Universal Fashion, includes a cover of “Fight for Your Right To Party.” Ever notice how songs about waking up late for school and getting your porn stash busted by mom take on an exotic aspect when sung by 61-year-olds?

From the “alas” file: TRL, American youth culture’s most essential barometer of its own stupidity, is leaving the airwaves after 10 years of abject wretchedness. This is a show that made high-functioning retardates like CARSON DALY and JESSE CAMP famous, that exalted such worthless acts as JESSE McCARTNEY and HILLARY DUFF, that was synonymous with the boy-band boom of the early 2000s — how, in this nation we so love, could a show so monumentally worthless, so insulting to intelligence and destructive to culture, be cancelled? If you can’t make money off bad taste, teenage idiocy, and no-talent hackery, maybe this really is the end of the American era.

DMX is sitting in a Phoenix jail, now facing charges of theft on top of his recent drug conviction and still-pending possession and animal-cruelty counts. And rapper WEBBIE has been arrested after leading cops on a high-speed chase on a Mississippi highway. He’s facing felony counts for running from the cops and driving under the influence, as well as a misdemeanor possession charge. What the hell is society coming to when rappers are getting arrested before I’ve even heard of them?

That’s three paragraphs in a row where I’ve posed thought-provoking rhetorical questions, so I think I owe you an insightful declaration. ROB THOMAS must be fired into the sun; taxpayer money is no object. In case you’re wondering what reminded me of him, I was just checking out a little blurb about his new album on Billboard.com and he actually used the phrase “my pop sensibility.” Can you believe that jive? He’s co-opting the language of shitty critics to describe himself. This is worse than the time Gang of Four called their album “angular.”

Didn’t they blow our minds this time

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 16 Sep 2008 20:58:30 GMT

The Big Hurt: Just how rad is the new NKOTB album?
Last week, I offered my fragile body up for a heinous act of self-abuse in the name of science.

PROOF OF PURCHASE: Sometimes a “music journalist” has to put his body on the line and buy an NKOTB CD.

Last week, I offered my fragile body up for a heinous act of self-abuse in the name of science: if a certain number of readers dared me, I’d buy the New Kids on the Block comeback album in a retail store with my own money, listen to every goddamn second of it, and write an enthusiastic review worthy of a PR clipping. Within hours of the column’s release, my inbox was flooded with pages and pages of dares (several of them double-dog dares).

Roughly 90 percent of them came, to my surprise, from female NKOTB fans who were, by some stunning miscalculation, convinced that I’d love the album if I gave it half a chance:

I dare you to do like you said with the NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCKS cd, THE BLOCK. . . cause you will find out one thing . . . IT IS AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks bunches and remember hang tough!

Angela

A BLOCKHEAD FOR 20 years and proud of it!!!!!!

Some “Blockheads” scoffed at my dare, accusing me of underestimating the power of their fandom. Au contraire, ladies: if anything, I overestimated the rabid NKOTB fan base (by charitably assuming it didn’t exist). But I’m a man of my word: I drove to the local big-box store and bought The Block, straight-faced, from an actual human clerk. I regret to report that there were no cute female employees present; I promised last week that I’d talk the album up a little if I saw one, but no such luck (thank God).

So, on to the glowing, conspicuously quotable review:

THE BLOCK: From New Kids to elder statesmen
It’s been an excruciating wait since 1994’s Face the Music, but the New Kids are finally back on the Block. The platinum-selling boy-banders may have aged a decade or two since their fresh-faced glory days, and some have gone on to raise families and pursue useful vocations. But with The Block (Interscope), their completely unexpected comeback album, they’ve made a great leap backward into the spotlight.

The New Kids’ voices have held up remarkably well over the years. They’re sounding just about as good as ever, with frequent boosts from a highly saturated Auto-Tune that gives the tracks the kind of warbly, Akonesque pitch-perfection that’s pushed popular music to such technical excellence in recent years. With synthed-out tracks from the likes of Polow da Don and Timbaland, the set’s sleek production is every bit as hip and ground-breaking as the iconic beats of “Hangin’ Tough” and “The Right Stuff” sound today.

The Big Hurt: Deepest sympathies

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 08 Sep 2008 22:05:27 GMT

Our heartfelt condolences to Usher, Sammy Hagar, Courtney Love, and the Verve
One writer to another, I offer Mr. Portnow some freebies he can use to wrap up his next few releases.

Being a legitimate enjoyer of the Smokey and the Bandit franchise — for real, y’all — I was saddened by JERRY REED’s passing. Not only did he provide one of the few solid arguments in favor of watching a Burt Reynolds movie, he wrote and performed some pretty sweet songs in his day. Neil Portnow, president and CEO of the Recording Academy, eloquently summarized the man in press-release form:

. . . A three-time GRAMMY® winner, he wrote songs for a multitude of artists including Johnny Cash, Nat King Cole, Tom Jones, Dean Martin, and Elvis Presley. His role in the hit film Smokey and the Bandit helped pave the way for other Nashville artists to break into films. The creative community has lost a significant voice today, and we extend our deepest sympathies to his family, friends, and all who enjoyed his work.

Something about that release strikes me as a bit familiar. Looking back, I find Portnow’s June 30 obit for pianist Leonard Pennario:

“. . . . Our deepest sympathies go out to his family, friends, and all those who were influenced by his melodies.”

And his August 10 obit for Isaac Hayes:

“. . . Our deepest sympathies go out to his family, friends and all who were inspired by the man and his music.”

And his August 15 obit for producer Jerry Wexler:

“. . . Our deepest sympathies go out to his family, friends, and all who were moved by his work.”

And his August 20 obit for saxophonist LeRoi Moore:

“. . . Our heartfelt sympathies go out to the band, his family, and all who were moved by his music.”

Mind you, I’m not making fun; being the guy whose job it is to care about everyone who dies is tough, and having worked as a copywriter, I know how difficult it can be to find new twists on a concept after you’ve written it dozens of times. In the spirit of charity, one writer to another, I offer Mr. Portnow some freebies he can use to wrap up his next few releases:

“We offer our deeply felt condolences to his family, friends, and to all who have appreciated his songs.”

“Our ardent sympathy goes out to his friends and relatives, and to all those who have delighted in his undertakings.”

“The Academy tenders its most ruthful sympathies to his kin, his colleagues, and all who have cherished his œuvre.”

The Big Hurt: Confessions of a band namer

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 19:58:56 GMT

The music industry’s best-kept secret speaks out
Maybe you’ve never heard the name Harold Wells, but it’s a safe bet that you’re a fan of his handiwork.

Maybe you’ve never heard the name Harold Wells, but it’s a safe bet that you’re a fan of his handiwork. Since the early ’70s, he’s provided names to hundreds of major acts in every genre. His naming style is so pervasive that band names he didn’t come up with just sound awkward and phony, like an off-brand dude narrating a movie trailer. Nickelback, Fall Out Boy, Trapt. . . these are not the work of a professional. This isn’t general knowledge, of course — labels want you to think that bands think up their own names. So, not to make a big deal out of what a great journalist I am or anything, but I called him up.

Obvious question first: where do you come up with band names?
They can come from anywhere. You see some word or phrase on TV that strikes you as funny, and you just know it works. Like, I remember hearing the phrase “pretender to the throne” in some movie, and immediately I wrote down “The Pretenders.” It was years before a group took that name, though.

So do bands pick pre-written names from a list you've made, or do you meet the band and work out a name?
Depends on what I get hired for, or what the label wants to pay. If they’re really pushing some new act, they’ll fly me in to meet it, or if they’re feeling cheap, they just send a CD and I send them a list of choices. Nirvana picked their name from a list, but in hindsight I wish I’d named them in person. I meant that name for a much mellower act. I would have called them Garbage. I used that name for another group later on, but whenever I hear a Nirvana song, I think, “Should be Garbage.”

Any particularly memorable in-person band-naming sessions?
Atlantic was really trying to push this act in the ’90s, real talented guys. They brought them in and I asked the lead singer to sing me a few bars, and he had about two words out before I said, “Hootie, your name is Hootie.” He hated it, though, he was saying, “I’m not Hootie!”, but I took a stand on that one. Hootie and the Blowfish. Of course, later I saw him on TV saying the same thing, still trying to weasel out: “I’m not Hootie, it’s just the name of the band. . . ” But my favorite was when this guy McLaren came in with these real awful-looking kids and I said, “Your shop is called Sex, call them the Sex Pistols,” and he said, “No. Fuck you.” And I didn’t hear from him ever again, didn’t get paid, but of course that turned into one of the most famous ones I did.

The Big Hurt: Earnest goes to camp

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 20:48:47 GMT

Plus baby comes from Clay and Bizkit defects to Manson
Hey: when the Verve play shows in America, they should start out their set with a cover of “The Freshman,” just so everyone’s like, “Wait a minute, I thought I had this shit figured out.”

GARY GLITTER, after years of captivity, has been released from a Vietnamese prison and returned to his homeland. But! Answer me this: why is JOHN MCCAIN lauded as a war hero while Gary Glitter is cast as a child molester? I won’t rest until this injustice is — oh, wait, because he has sex with kids.

Actual unaltered lyrics from the new OASIS single: “Love is a litany/A magical mystery.” I’ll bet you $50 that if you break into Noel’s house, you’ll see his Word-a-Day calendar still open to “Litany.” Another $50 says Liam thinks it’s a made-up word, like “Wonderwall.”

CLAY AIKEN has, through a process too mysterious to comprehend, sired a baby human child. As a journalist, I wish I could provide some details on how the hell this happened, but I’m just scratching my head over here. I don’t even know where to start. The Silmarillion, maybe?

Former LIMP BIZKIT guitarist WES BORLAND has joined MARILYN MANSON’s touring band, creating one of the most potent supergroups of the nü-metal era. If only all the troglodytes who might have given a shit hadn’t died years ago in Woodstock ’99 bonfire accidents.

Manson, desperate to mitigate the blow to his reputation caused by recruiting a dude from the only band uncooler than his own, issued an awkward, semi-apologetic explanation. “We have a new guitar player that’s gonna play for the first time tomorrow,” he sheepishly blubbered. “It’s the first time we’ll play on stage. His name is Wes Borland, and he used to be in a really terrible band that he left because he felt that it was a destructive force in art . . . but now he is in Marilyn Manson.”

I downloaded a leak of the new VERVE album, and the quality was a bit suspect. I was thinking some jackass might have recorded it from an Internet stream, and my suspicion was rudely confirmed when the cheery voiceover of that ubiquitous “Congratulations! You’ve been selected to receive a free laptop computer” audio banner ad came blaring through the guitars. Wait a minute — maybe that’s really part of the song and this reunion is all about the money.

Hey: when the Verve play shows in America, they should start out their set with a cover of “The Freshman,” just so everyone’s like, “Wait a minute, I thought I had this shit figured out.”

The Big Hurt: Reconstructive criticism

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 15:48:46 GMT

How music can be better
The job of any great music critic (e.g., me) is to provide useful suggestions to musicians, thus advancing the art.

The job of any great music critic (e.g., me) is to provide useful suggestions to musicians, thus advancing the art. Critics have always been the guiding force behind music; calling us “muses” might be going a little far, but I think everyone would agree that we’re a million times more important than musicians.

Here’s an illustration of how it works. Imagine it’s 1915 or so, and a critic is at some classical-music waltz concert or something. He hears an okay song, but he has the distinct sense that it could be better, so he writes a review saying that they should add more trumpets and shit and maybe start calling it “jazz” instead of “classical,” because that sounds more hip and modern. Upon reading this review, some musician (whose name is lost to history) decides to take the critic’s advice and invents jazz.

These major upheavals have occurred three times throughout the history of music: from classical to jazz, from jazz to rock, and from rock to rap. What with all the flagging record sales and overall music boringness lately, I propose that it’s time for another one, and I now proudly take my place in history as the critic who instigates it. Musicians, please consider these suggestions for making music better:

How about some new instruments? We’ve been stuck with the same basic crap for centuries: guitars, pianos, harps, etc. Maybe a combination of two instruments would be good, like a pianjo, or a guitar you can blow into to make extra bonus notes. Also, it should be like a video game, where if you play a bunch of notes really fast, you unlock some sort of high-score “achievement” and the blowtar company sends you a special pin you can wear.

Or, we could invent a completely new and better type of instrument. I’m not exactly sure what it should sound like (that’s for the musicians to figure out), but you should be able to play it with one hand so you can wave at the audience while you play, or simulate sex acts. Virtuoso types could even impress everyone by playing two at once. An important aspect of this instrument is that it should be relatively simple but extremely difficult to play, so the operator can make wild, sexual grimaces of effort while performing. Maybe the instrument would just be a sort of lever, and you’d have to pull it really hard to make a sound.

The Big Hurt: More bad news in brief

DAVID THORPE — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:35:28 GMT

DMX spits, Lou spills, Kelly leaks, Keane sucks
Police pulled over Snoop Dogg’s tour bus and — gasp! — smelled marijuana!

K.Banks

CAM’RON, who’s remained largely reclusive since the failure of his 2007 beef campaign against 50 CENT, has sold off his one remaining asset: the recording contract of his amusing retardate protégé, JUELZ SANTANA. Juelz, known for his distinctive bandana fashions and his trademarked rhyming-words-with-themselves-five-times flow, had a Top 10 hit in 2005 with “There It Go (The Whistle Song),” for which he should only drop dead. Cam’ron managed to get a cool $2 million by selling his old friend down the river (to Def Jam), which ought to be enough to keep him brooding in his estate for a couple more years. After that, expect to see a lot of purple fur coats flooding the garage-sale market.

For demonstration purposes, a representative Santana rhyme: “You be like, ’damn, that’s one nice ass rapper/I kinda like that rapper, want to be like that rapper.’”

DMX, who in recent months has been arrested approximately twice a day, dazzled onlookers with an impromptu freestyle outside the Phoenix courthouse where he had just pled not guilty to whatever the hell he did this time. “If and when you ever fall down, get back up/Drop something, stop fretting, pick that shit back up/Stand for something or fall for everything, wait for the right pitch or miss with every swing.” Great time to toss us some nuggets of wisdom, DMX. Keep these little life lessons coming, ’cause nothing gets me all pumped to succeed like the inspiring words of a broke dude with a house full of dog corpses.

Former boy-band mogul LOU PEARLMAN — now serving a 25-year prison sentence for screwing investors out of hundreds of millions of dollars with various endeavors of extreme bogusness — made news this week by snitching on an alleged cop killer. Pearlman claims that after hearing the 19-year-old Davin Smith boasting of the murder to fellow inmates, he struck up a little investigation, gaining the boy’s confidence after a chance meeting in the prison showers and extracting details of the crime, which he promptly turned over to the police. Pearlman hopes that his sleuthing and snitching will reduce his prison sentence. After all this publicity, I think he can definitely expect a dramatic reduction in his not-getting-stabbed-in-the-shower hitch.

In a rather disappointing move, BARACK OBAMA’s camp has condemned LUDACRIS for the ribaldry of his recent pro-Obama mixtape track. Campaign spokesman Bill Burton, desperate to make white people forget that Obama met privately with Luda in 2006 to talk about “empowering the youth,” trotted out the same old rapophobia: “Rap lyrics today too often perpetuate misogyny, materialism, and degrading images that he [Obama] doesn’t want his daughters or any children exposed to. . . . While Ludacris is a talented individual he should be ashamed of these lyrics.”

The Big Hurt: Playing with fire

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 14:38:01 GMT

Lil Wayne runs afoul of the ABKCO juggernaut
Milli-selling rapgoblin Lil Wayne probably didn’t worry too much about borrowing the Rolling Stones’ “Play with Fire” for the hook of his track “Playing with Fire.”

Milli-selling rapgoblin Lil Wayne probably didn’t worry too much about borrowing the Rolling Stones’ “Play with Fire” for the hook of his track “Playing with Fire.” Hell, it wasn’t even a sample. He hired R&B sublegend Betty Wright to sing it, shuffled some words around, changed the tune a bit, and called it fair. In the grand scheme of hip-hop infringement, it seems like a mere trifle.

But no! A suit has been filed against Mr. W.F. Baby and Universal Records seeking undisclosed damages in return for their reckless theft. Aside from the copyright issue, Wayne had the indecency to use ripped-off Stones lyrics alongside “explicit, sexist, and offensive” language, something of which the Stones would surely never approve. But wait! Before you accuse the Stones of being huge fucking hypocrites, consider this: the senior rockers lost the publishing rights to their entire pre-1970 catalogue decades ago, and they most likely have nothing to do with this lawsuit. (In fact, they just signed a huge contract with Universal.) A far more malevolent force is at work.

I’m guessing Weezy didn’t realize how appropriate the title “Play with Fire” is. In releasing a track that borrowed from classic Stones (however lightly), he not only played with fire, he stirred the wrath of someone whose strongarm tactics over the years have earned him a reputation as one of the most sinister, bellicose volcano gods of the recording industry. ABKCO Music holds the rights to an exceedingly valuable catalogue, one that includes the classic work of the Stones and Sam Cooke plus material by many other eminently reissuable ’60s hitmakers. It’s quite a nest egg, and ABKCO defends it like an angry mother eagle.

ABKCO is the brainchild of Allen Klein, a classic supervillain of the music biz who spent a few years handling the business affairs of the Rolling Stones and the Beatles before bitterly alienating them with self-serving management and ugly dealings. Klein’s first major taste of infringement litigation put him on the wrong side of the courtroom; while he was managing George Harrison, he was involved in the famed “subconscious plagiarism” suit regarding the ex-Beatle’s hit single “My Sweet Lord,” for which Harrison had unintentionally used the tune of the Chiffons’ 1963 hit “He’s So Fine.” Bright Tunes, the owner of the “He’s So Fine” publishing rights, had a strong case and stood to make millions.

The week in boners

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 22:14:14 GMT

Ross exposed, FCC hosed, hicks opposed
With his new album expected to hit #1 on the Billboard charts this week, I think (Nasty) Nas is getting a bit swell-headed.

With his new album expected to hit #1 on the Billboard charts this week, I think (Nasty) NAS is getting a bit swell-headed. He recently told MTV News about a grandiose fantasy: to record one album produced entirely by DRE and another produced entirely by DJ PREMIER, then drop them both on the same day. I’m guessing no self-respecting label would ever let him split his chart position like that, but I can’t hear those kind of pragmatic concerns over the deafening whoosh of a million hip-hop fans springing tremendous boners.

In other tremendous rap-boner news (this time in the classic “blunder” sense): thesmokinggun.com recently outed coke-rap champion RICK ROSS as, of all things, a former prison guard. In terms of hip-hop credibility, being revealed as a former Department of Corrections employee is like being outed as a former darling little tea party. Ross, struggling to wriggle out from beneath a weighty pile of evidence, posted a video denying it.

Somebody tell NICK CAVE to shave off that moustache before it rapes again. He looks like someone George C. Scott would beat up in Hardcore.

PAUL WESTERBERG just released a digital album for the unconventional price of 49 cents, and I simply can’t bring myself to listen to it. I dig some of his music, and I could probably scare up the money, but something about that price point seems incredibly fishy and uncouth, like a crazy hobo trying to sell me a dollar bill for 99 cents. I don’t know what your little game is, Westerberg, but leave me out of it!

Nearby: we’re getting another round of deluxe REPLACEMENTS reissues soon. Let’s hope they go for a decent, God-fearing price that won’t make us feel we’re being laughed at.

Also in the digital-music vein; CONOR OBERST is streaming his new solo album for free on his Web site. Be aware, however, that free Conor Oberst music is in the end much more expensive than 49-cent Paul Westerberg music, because it’s twice as likely to turn you into a tit.

If you’ve been holding your breath waiting for CHAPTERHOUSE to re-form, good news: you’re probably dead.

An appeals court has ruled that JANET JACKSON’s leathery Super Bowl horror wasn’t a big enough deal to justify the massive fine that the FCC tried to levy against CBS. An outrage! Until the FCC has collected its justly awarded $550 million and used the money to build some sort of Skynet-style networked nipple-containment/destruction system, our national nightmare can never truly be over.