DAVID THORPE

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.

Festival casualties ’08!

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 22:05:05 GMT

A grim reminder that rock can still maim you
A young man died of meningitis, which doctors believe he contracted by sharing joints with contagious hippies at the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival.

JUNE 25 | A young man died of meningitis, which doctors believe he contracted by sharing joints with contagious hippies at the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival. The reggae-heavy event was held in Boonville, California, an isolated, Steven King–esque enclave of weirdos who speak their own bizarre folk language called “Boontling” and infect outsiders with gruesome diseases. They also have a lovely brewery.

JUNE 27 | Glastonbury, the largest festival in England and indeed the world, was off to a roaring start: first-day crime figures were reported to be six times higher than 2007’s, and more than 450 people received medical treatment for a wide range of revelry-related injuries. That number seems pretty high, especially when you consider that there were only 45 injuries during the entire eight-day course of this year’s “running of the bulls” in Pamplona. Drink that in, readers: rock and roll is a full 10 times more likely to injure you than a surly, highly provoked bull. On the brighter side: 54 hooligans were brought to justice on Glasto’s first day, whereas I don’t think even a single bull was arrested in Pamplona.

JUNE 28 | Notable Glastonbury criminals included Amy Winehouse, who was ushered away by festival security after elbowing a fan in the face. It seems she thought he’d thrown a hat at her iconic beehive. (He had not.) The victim didn’t sweat it. “Not everyone can say they have been hit by Amy Winehouse,” he said. Yet.

JULY 2 | Days later, Travis McCoy of the dubious indie-rap outfit Gym Class Heroes was arrested on the Warped Tour after he smacked someone upside the face with a mic stand. Someone in the audience, it would seem, decided to call McCoy an “ignorant n—r,” perhaps unaware that this sort of behavior warrants — nay, demands — a solid smack in the face with a heavy object. McCoy faces a third-degree assault charges and, let’s hope, some high-fives.

JULY 6 | The inaugural year of Michigan’s Rothbury Music Festival was darkened by the news of two on-site fatalities. Although foul play is not suspected in either incident, it’s still unclear whether headliner John Mayer is responsible for the tragedies; police have not gone on record as exonerating the nice-guy singer. In the interest of journalistic fairness and basic decency, I should point out that there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Mayer is involved in any way, but I don’t think I’m gonna do that.

Vicious squircles

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 17:38:27 GMT

The Big Hurt: grave errors and virtual disappointments
Someone has made off with Ian Curtis's gravestone.

Someone has made off with IAN CURTIS’s gravestone. The motive is unknown; the press has speculated that it was a deranged fan or someone hoping to cash in by hawking the stone, but everybody seems to be ignoring the most elegant and obvious answer — just look for all the terminally ill guys in Manchester who happen to be named Ian Curtis. What with the hospital bills and all, they’ve gotta cut corners somewhere.

Curtis could not be reached for comment.

Yet more alarming holiday-album news: SHERYL CROW is set to release a collection of Christmas songs sponsored by Hallmark. At what point does an artist — any artist, even Sheryl Crow — just stop giving a shit about being for real? Are her friends even making fun of her for this stuff anymore, or are they all like, “Oh, congratulations, you got more money”? I’m guessing she got into the whole music thing to express herself and be bohemian and what-not, and now she’s older and richer and doing this Barry Manilow holiday shit, and it’s getting sold in Hallmark Gold Crown stores next to little cards that say, “Smile, Grandpa! You’ll be with Jesus soon,” and I wonder whether she even notices how square it is. For her sake, though, I hope she wakes up every day and looks in the mirror and it’s like Martin Sheen in that first scene from Apocalypse Now.

Speaking of square: NELLY, N.E.R.D., and LINKIN PARK will be lending their considerable credibility to a new marketing campaign by New Era (hat company) and Zune (digital music player). The Microsoft Zune, you may recall, was the hottest technology must-not-have of 2006, and it’s gone on to sell more than 700 units. The artists will be featured in short “Webisodes” in which they tell the Zune-hungry public about all the fantastic music that they have on their totally not-unsexy Zunes, which they would totally be caught dead with. Somehow, hats will be involved.

The “Webisode” concept, if you didn’t know, is a device concocted by hack viral marketing consultants to exploit the popular theory that any video put up on the Web will be watched by millions of people for no apparent reason. Having worked on the Web, I can tell you that viral marketing dudes are like organ grinders; you pay them to shut up.

And, in a chilling coda to the tale of one machine’s unhipness, the press has been referring to the Zune’s round-cornered touchpad as a “squircle.” Let that one shudder through your system. I just had kidney stones, and let me tell you: the word “squircle” is worse.

The Big Hurt: Winners and losers

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 20:20:53 GMT

A hip-hop scorecard
Jay-Z's headlining slot at the Glastonbury Festival June 28 has been the stuff of much controversy, with various artists weighing in on his suitability to the event.

JAY-Z | His headlining slot at the Glastonbury Festival June 28 has been the stuff of much controversy, with various artists weighing in on his suitability to the event. Glasto has always been a guitar-rock show, and its fans and performers have been slow to accept hip-hop. Oasis remnant Noel Gallagher, bucking his usual habit of polite, non-confrontational passivity, flatly declared: “I’m not having hip-hop at Glastonbury. It’s wrong.” In response to this nay-saying, Hova kicked off his set with a facetious cover of “Wonderwall,” segueing into an à propos “99 Problems.” Sure, Jay, Noel may be a bitch, but he goaded you into singing an Oasis song. Which is the very definition of defeat. OUTCOME: ETHERED.

TUPAC SHAKUR | Last year, a bronze statue of the allegedly dead rapper was defaced by a vandal who hung a wooden cross around its neck and plastered it with racist literature. (The statue, which stands outside a Georgia community arts center founded by the rapper’s mother, is perhaps most famous for looking almost nothing like Tupac.) Finally, this week, an answer: the vandal has released a manifesto explaining, “Tupac Shakur is not only a rapist and murderer of his own people, his center of the arts is in the business of molesting the young minds of our youths into believing that ‘Thug Life’ is the American dream.” Tupac — who is still laboring under the morbid and unconvincing charade that he’s dead — refused to abandon his hermitry to comment, thus losing to a crazy guy by default. STATUS: BUSTER.

YOUNG JEEZY | Usually a man of unwavering purpose — to inspire thugs to greatness — Jeezy has recently undergone a baffling flip-flop in his opinion of John McCain, whom he met at a Saturday Night Live taping a while back. Some reports quoted a pessimistic Jeezy: “John McCain’s cool, but he looks like a fraud to me. I told him the ’hood was fucked up and he was like, ‘How you doing?’ Real talk. They know entertainers, so they shake your hand, ‘I’m your friend.’ I don’t really feel McCain.” In a Vibe magazine interview, however, he took a different position: “No disrespect to my man Barack, but I fuck with John McCain. [Editor’s note: that’s a good thing.] He greeted me like a God. The fact that he acknowledged me was crazy. I said, ‘I’m Young Jeezy, and it’s rough out here.’ He blew me off at first. I was like, ‘Nah, for real. It’s rough out here, so what you gonna do to change it?’ And he gave me a look back, like, ‘I know.’ ” Well, which is it, Snowman? Do you fuck with him or do you not feel him? I can only assume he picked up this habit of sudden, bizarre reversals of opinion from . . . I dunno, some politician. DIAGNOSIS: POSSIBLY TRIPPIN’.

World War III

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 20:13:04 GMT

The Big Hurt: Boy George vs. America; Coldplay vs. some dude; 50 Cent vs. chalupas
Devastating news: Boy George has been denied entry to the United States!

Retraction! Those of you who’ve been hard at work in your potato-salad labs preparing for the summer’s hottest music event — BOY GEORGE’s scheduled appearance at the NYC Department of Sanitation’s “Family Day,” which I reported two weeks ago and which I’m assuming is some kind of a picnic, hence the potato-salad remark, which in retrospect was probably a confusing and oblique thing to write, but what the hell, it’s not as if I could go back in time and somehow unwrite it — are in for some devastating news: Boy George has been denied entry to the United States! It seems he’s in a little bit of legal trouble stemming from the “assault” on and “false imprisonment” of a “male escort” from a place that we’re supposed to believe is called “Norway.” A convenient story, but we all know this is retaliation for last week, when the UK denied Martha Stewart a visa. I don’t want to engage in any irresponsible hyperbole, but I think this situation is serious enough that we might fairly describe it as “World War III.”

Recently resurrected guitar act the VERVE are set to release their first album in nearly a decade, and they’re kicking things off with a brand new single. You can hear “Love Is Noise” now on their MySpace page, but I would strongly advise against it; it’s godawful to a degree undreamt of even in the most dad-like of Richard Ashcroft’s solo flops. Things were looking encouraging last year, when the band released a 10-minute guitar jam that reeked of classic Verve, but this has all been thrown by the wayside in favor of irritating, ill-advised monkey noises.

Some dweeb on the Internet made news by accusing COLDPLAY of ripping off the tune to one of his songs. No, buddy, they didn’t rip you off — turns out you just kinda sound like Coldplay. Which ought to make you even more ashamed of yourself than the cheap attention grab you pulled.

Wait a minute — RUPAUL is a dude?!

I hope you’re sitting down and have your heart medication on hand, because I’m about to hit you with a quadruple whammy involving: (a) an unwarranted reunion; (b) Christian pop rock; (c) cutesy girl vocals; (d) a holiday album. After four years of uneventful absence, inoffensive Jesus-loving potluck types SIXPENCE NONE THE RICHER are returning to bless our souls with a musical log of yuletide cheer. Maybe we should just cancel Christmas. But on the bright side, holiday albums pose much less danger than most records, since there’s only a two-month “risk zone” followed by 10 months of relative safety.

Please release me

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 15:36:07 GMT

The Big Hurt: The week in awful press releases
If you were looking for important, well-reported, or even marginally interesting music news, you probably wouldn’t be reading my column.

There’s plenty of real stuff going on this week — you’ve already heard about R. Kelly’s acquittal and Lil Wayne’s million-selling chart coup — but if you were looking for important, well-reported, or even marginally interesting music news, you probably wouldn’t be reading my column. Let’s skip straight to the sweet stuff: the week’s goofiest press releases.

Teamsters Urge Singer Kenny Chesney: Speak Out Against Corona's Pension Cuts
Just a month after enduring the first shred of controversy in his career — his comments upon winning the Academy of Country Music’s Entertainer of the Year award were interpreted by some as ungrateful — blameless Knoxville pinhead Kenny Chesney is being pulled into a scuffle between Teamsters and beer:

“Chesney’s lyrics speak of down-to-earth themes such as tractor driving, barefoot walking, and hardworking, family-loving folks,” said Chuck Mack, President of Teamsters Joint Council 7 and International Vice President. “America's working families identify with him and vice-versa. We urge him to encourage Corona’s San Francisco distributor not to take away the dignified retirement employees worked hard to earn.”

A hundred teamsters showed up at his Corona-sponsored concert to pass out leaflets decrying a local Corona distributor’s attempt to eliminate employee pensions in a proposed new contract. Chesney, who has a major promotional (and esophageal) relationship with Corona, has skipped his cellphone into the crystal-clear sea and is currently too laid back to comment.

I have to say I resent the ugly tactic of using a country singer’s love of heavy farm equipment to guilt-trip him into joining a political fight. The relationship between Kenny Chesney and tractors is a sacred thing, and using it to drive a wedge between him and the Mexican beer he so dearly loves (see his 2007 hit “Beer in Mexico”) is downright reprehensible.

Using Music To Ease the Pain of Labor; New CD Featuring Celine Dion, Norah Jones, Provides Soothing Songs for Delivery
As if childbirth weren’t painful enough:

Doctors and midwives are increasingly embracing the notion that music can help improve the birth experience for mothers. From this need to soothe sprang the CD Stork Tunes: Songs for a Happy Birth Day, a compilation of songs focused on mothers and children by top artists. Among the artists on the CD are Celine Dion (“A Mother’s Prayer”); Katrina Carlson (“Mother”); and the Dixie Chicks (“Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)”).

I know in my heart that any child of mine would sooner claw its way back into the womb than enter a world in which Norah Jones dominates its infant senses. Furthermore, if I ever knock up a girl who would enjoy listening to Celine Dion and the Dixie Chicks during the birth of our child, I hope to be thousands of miles away from the delivery room, preferably in a nation with relaxed attitudes toward deadbeatism.

Popular douches, hetero boyfriends, and softie gangstas

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 14:59:38 GMT

The Big Hurt tackles Tori Amos, Pete Wentz, and Ice Cube
I invite those of you who hate me to take a moment to delight in my pain.

Sincere apologies for my absence last week. I had a massive kidney stone — probably some kind of divine come-uppance for all those times I made fun of Christian rock. I invite those of you who hate me to take a moment to delight in my pain. And now, the news:

If you’re thinking of dumping your girlfriend, now’s a perfect time: TORI AMOS is preparing a stage musical, a graphic novel, and a “project of new music and visuals.” Retreat now, boyfriends! Amos saturation approaching critical early-’90s levels!

As I write this, idealess pop-metal trogs DISTURBED have the #1 album in the country for the third time in their careers. I can’t quite figure it out; usually, when something stupid tops the charts, you can use the ol’ “idiots will buy anything” explanation. But seriously — they’ll buy that? By the time you read this, however, the #1 slot should be safely held down by LIL WAYNE.

BOY GEORGE is set to headline the New York City sanitation department’s “Family Day” gathering. Yes, there’s a somewhat reasonable explanation for this, but I feel it’ll be more fun if I let you draw your own conclusions.

If you’ve been disillusioned by all the recent arrests of major rappers, here’s something to cheer you up: has-been arrests! Erstwhile regulator WARREN G narrowly ducked a drug charge, and COOLIO was hauled in for an outstanding traffic misdemeanor and released on $10,000 bail. I guess the biggest news here is that Coolio had 10 grand.

And, in the exact opposite of the usual legal news about rappers: New York governor DAVID PATERSON has issued a full pardon to SLICK RICK, wiping out the weapons charges that kept the rapper jailed for six years in the ’90s.

Sure, having total recall for shitty music sounds like fun, but what’s the last time you had ROB ZOMBIE’s “Dragula” stuck in your head for six days straight? Kill me.

50 CENT has been embroiled in a heated legal argument with an ex-girlfriend over the ownership of a $2.4 million house on Long Island. Not long after his attempts to evict the ex were unsuccessful, the house mysteriously and not-at-all-suspiciously burnt down. Sometimes life just throws wacky coincidences at us out of nowhere, right 50?

Sick leave

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 18:56:25 GMT

David Thorpe: The early writings
Because of an unforeseen medical emergency and resultant procedure, “Big Hurt” columnist David Thorpe was unable to furnish his regularly scheduled column to the Phoenix this week.

Because of an unforeseen medical emergency and resultant procedure (spleen removed, more spleen installed), “Big Hurt” columnist David Thorpe was unable to furnish his regularly scheduled column to the Phoenix this week. In its stead, the editors have opted to run a small compendium of assorted early writings and juvenilia culled from an archive kept deep below our headquarters (in a steamer trunk once used to protect Ric Ocasek’s many identical wigs from moisture).

It is our hope that, from this glimpse of the writer’s earliest output, readers will gain a clearer understanding of his æsthetic and be able to approximate more closely for themselves the unique critical perspective he brings to the world of contemporary music. Our best wishes for your speedy and full recovery, David.

“i have a dog. our dog is named yazz. he is brown and likes to run in the park. i love my dog yazz because we play together and when kokomo or johnny hates jazz comes on in mommys car he barks real loud so i never have to hear kokomo or johnny hates jazz. when we go to the mall he gets mad and growls at the scary dead lady at sam goody so i know never to go to sam goody or listen to nitzer ebb or something bad will happen. i miss yazz because mom says he went away last week when he tried to eat the long box that her bon jovi cd was in. i hope yazz never hears new jersey or kokomo in the dog heaven or he might growl and get in trouble for growling in heaven.”

— excerpted from two-page handwritten report titled “My Pet,” September 1988

“Dear Principal, I want to say sorry for what I did in school today. I didn’t know the divinyls song was about what Nurse Kathy said it was about until she told me when I was waiting outside your office and now I think I know and I’m super sorry. I also am sorry for wearing my pants and shirt backwards because I thought that was allowed in school. I am also sorry that my backwards shirt said Kill Uncle because I like my uncle and I didn’t know what that meant. I am also sorry for yelling A MOSQUITO MY LIBIDO at Mrs. Carruthers when she asked what my family’s summer plans are because I didn’t know what that meant either. Today is the worst day. I’m sorry. P.S. Is your son named Jesus?”

Ho down

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 21:37:59 GMT

Remembering the glory days of hip-hop misogyny
Hip-hop has always had a bad rap ( duh-hyuk! ) for misogyny, but when I think back on the long history of articles criticizing the lyrical treatment of women, I have to chuckle.

Hip-hop has always had a bad rap (duh-hyuk!) for misogyny, but when I think back on the long history of articles criticizing the lyrical treatment of women, I have to chuckle. Little did all these academics, right-wing pundits, and watchdog groups know that they never even scratched the surface; the ’90s produced some of the most wonderfully detestable hip-hop tracks imaginable, and no misogyny today seems to compare with those wonderful times.

Since nothing particularly interesting is going on this week, I thought I’d take a moment to reminisce about a few of my very favorite misogynist rap gems. These songs go way beyond mere sexism, disrespect, and degradation — they approach the truly sublime. Before continuing, dear reader, please note that I’m not condoning the existence of these morally unpardonable tracks or defending their content. I’m just enjoying them, the way a pervert enjoys getting stung on the genitals by a scorpion.

Too Short, “All My Bitches Are Gone”
Too Short used to have a lot of ladies, but he beat them, and now they’ve all left. You might think this would, with the right degree of irony, make a pretty funny cautionary tale, but it never develops in that direction. Short seems glad to be rid of them — perhaps because his fists are getting tired. A sample:

All my bitches are gone, them bitches bounced
I had a gang of ’em, now they can’t be found
They ain’t [cavorting] with Short Dog
Cause I’m from Oakland
You [trifle] with us bitch, somethin’ gettin’ broken
Your leg, arm, jaw, nose, pick apart
Oakland [gentlemen]’ll break your heart

When you get Short and co-star Ant Banks together, they form such an amazing feedback loop of woman hatred that it seems almost suspicious. Although they mention sex quite a few times, their relish and delight in woman hating comes off much stronger than their passing interest in sensual pleasures.

UGK, “Pregnant Pussy”
Very early in their career, the legendary Texas duo released an EP called Banned that collected tracks too hideous to be released on their Jive debut. One such track, “Pregnant Pussy,” is spoken of with hushed reverence among the offensive-rap elite.

I’m not usually one to censor myself or mince words, but I’m about to mince the hell out of this thing: this is a song about the notion that when one has sex with a pregnant woman, one is actually interacting with two different beings. “If she’s expecting, I can satisfy/And at the same time give the kid a pacifier.”

The Big Hurt: Pied-pipers lead innocent teens to emo cult Valhalla!

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 16:45:39 GMT

Music news in brief
As a connoisseur and frequent purveyor of shitty journalism, I have to applaud the Mail for its tremendous gusto.

Fans of eyeliner-industry darlings MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE are set to march across London by the hundreds to protest the DAILY MAIL’s shitty treatment of the band — and, weird as it might sound, the kids have a pretty good reason to be mad. In recent coverage of the suicide of an emo-obsessed teenage girl, the ultra-reputable rag has made all sorts of hilarious insinuations about the pop group, going so far as to suggest they’re at the helm of some sort of death cult:

One of the foremost of these ‘suicide cult’ bands is My Chemical Romance, from New Jersey. Their first single, “Welcome to the Black Parade,” from the album The Black Parade, was released in 2006 and became a huge hit, going to number one in Britain. The concept album follows the story of a character called The Patient, who dies of cancer. The Black Parade is a nickname for the place where Emo fans believe they will go when they die.

As a connoisseur and frequent purveyor of shitty journalism, I have to applaud the Mail for its tremendous gusto. The most cursory research (i.e., asking any teenager) would have confirmed that “The Black Parade” was nowhere near their first single, even in the UK. Digging a little deeper would have revealed that My Chemical Romance have often been anti-suicide, in both song and interview, and that they’ve also disowned the “emo” thing, calling it a “pile of shit.” Most audacious is the final sentence, which takes such dazzling, whimsical liberties with fact and sanity that I’m a little jealous. These guys don’t just insult the reader’s intelligence — they lambaste it with a full Friar’s Club roast, with Jeffrey Ross in a tuxedo cracking wise about the reader’s intelligence’s mother and everything.

Several more articles about the young girl’s suicide followed, each with further condemnations of the destructive, suicide-glorifying emo lifestyle. Actual headline: “Why No Child Is Safe from the Sinister Cult of Emo.” The article seems to condemn kids just as much as it condemns the music: they’re “naive, misguided or just plain stupid. But then, that’s always been the trouble with some teenagers. And the danger of emo.”

After all this musing about the stupidity of teenagers, we get a dandy little nightcap to the story. On the night of her suicide, “the teenager turned to her [her mother] and said: ‘I feel like killing myself.’ ” Her mother said something like: “Don’t be so silly — we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Case closed! Music’s fault!