There seem to be two kinds of people in this world: the reasonable, open-minded folk who trust their own judgment and senses, who know what’s what. And then there are those who ignore the facts staring them right in the face, who won’t acknowledge that Elvis is alive even when they see him special- order a TCB Whopper with peanut butter and ‘nanner. Who won’t believe in Bigfoot until he’s strangling them with their own descending colon. These people are called “skeptics.”
The heralds of truth at Weekly World News have done it again, blowing the lid off another suppressed story that skeptics refuse to believe. Thanks to the uncompromising WWN journos, along with a dauntless, daring scientist-substitute teacher, Dr. Barry Leed, we finally learn the untold story of the mutant sensation that has captivated the nation, the incomparable Bat Boy. Going Mutant: The Bat Boy Exposed! may just be the greatest mutant expose since that documentary showing how Hugh Jackman got his metal skeleton.
Leed holds the MBS (Master of Bat Studies) from the University of Indianapolis, so is basically what you’d call an unimpeachable expert. (Plus, I’m pretty sure only presidents can be impeached.) Who better than the expert known to his students as “Dr. Squealgood” to stalk the world’s most accomplished human-bat hybrid and bring his story to light?
No one, that’s who.
The sheer breadth of Leeds’ research, the steel of his tenacity, the enormidad of his cojones will leave you blubbering in amazement. You may not believe some of the astounding accomplishments and startling revelations until you see the numerous supporting photos and, as we all know, photos don’t lie!
Beginning with the 1992 discovery of Bat Boy, Leeds has unearthed the entire life story of a simple, bulgy-eyed, pointy-toothed flying boy, from humble beginnings in the caves of West Virginia, to distinguished U.S. military service, to flying on the space shuttle. By the time you reach the end of this pulse-pounding account, you won’t be asking why Bat Boy’s picture is now on the five dollar bill, you’ll be digging out a few “bats” to buy the book!
Along the way, the authors separate fact from insinuation, innuendo, and other words you’ll have to look up, finally putting to bed the rumored romance between Bats and Brittany — it was actually BB g.f. Betty Barnett, a virtual double for Ms. Spears, down to the crossed eyes and pointed teeth. They uncover the mighty mutant’s likes (Count Chocula cereal, featherless lizard chickens) and dislikes (modern art, disco balls, and any recording by Cher since 1984).
There are enough interesting — and in true Weekly World News style, inflammatory — facts in Going Mutant, well, to fill a book! Along with the kind of value-added content that makes the WWN the world’s only reliable news source, such as, according to experts, one in ten lap dancers “sport silicone butt implants.” And valuable advice for those visiting West Virginia: when you hear banjos, paddle faster, and, in that state, a virgin is defined as “a girl who can outrun her brother.”
Just try getting that sort of information from your high-falutin’ newspapers, bub! There is simply no other source for the kind of journalism that, as Dr. Leed eloquently puts it, covers events that are like “Woodstock, Caligula, and Plato’s Retreat rolled into one.”
Once you’ve read Going Mutant, you’ll realize you didn’t know how much you don’t know about Bat Boy and his role in the events that have shaped our current world in which we live in. Sure, there will be skeptics who deride valiant works like this. To them, in the words of the great psychic, The Amazing Criswell, we say: Can you prove that it didn’t happen?
This article was first published as Going Mutant: Bat Boy Exposed! on Blogcritics.
Review copy provided by Weekly World News.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Halloween Reading Recommendations
In the years between trick or treating myself and turning on the porch light to pass out candy to the kiddies, I developed a deep appreciation for classic horror fiction. Some of the greatest horror writing has always been found in the short fiction form, and I have a list of perennial favorites I try to revisit annually, once the leaves begin to turn.
Ambrose Bierce is generally known only for his satirical Devil’s Dictionary, “An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge,” and his mysterious disappearance. His portfolio, however, is packed with tales of ghosts, dread, and damnation. The collection, Can Such Things Be?, offers a wealth of eerie reading. Especially recommended are “The Moonlit Road,” a chilling realization of the Rashomon effect, and “An Inhabitant of Carcosa,” as desperate a story as can be put to paper and the inspiration for H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos and Robert W. Chambers’ The King in Yellow.
Speaking of which, Chambers’ collection of stories about the malevolent King and the dread Yellow Sign effectively evoke a Gothic atmosphere of despair and doom. The stories in this mythos are highly effective chillers, and seem to be an aberration among Chambers’ flowery romantic fiction.
W.W. Jacobs’ “The Monkey’s Paw” is a cautionary story culminating in an image so horrific, it’s rightfully earned a reputation as a classic. Although the story’s been adapted to radio and TV, the original prose version is unsurpassed.
Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Feathertop” is more whimsical than horrible, a morality tale involving a witch, a scarecrow, and some insufferable Puritans. And something that keeps lighting Mother Rigby’s pipe.
Charles Beaumont was responsible for nearly as many memorable Twilight Zone episodes as was Rod Serling. Like Serling, Beaumont was adept at crafting allegorical stories of suspense and terror. There are the hellish neighbors of “The New People,” the twisted psychology of killer and victim in “The Hunger,” the world’s deadliest prisoner in “The Howling Man,” and the most atrocious parenting this side of Mrs. Bates in “Miss Gentibelle,” all of which can be found in his collected stories.
Finally, just when it appears that there are no worthy living, working authors who could add to my autumnal required reading, I discovered Collected Stories by Lewis Shiner. Known best as a cyberpunk pioneer, and later for the remarkable rock and roll fantasy, Glimpses, Shiner offers an abundance of evocative horror, science fiction, and suspense—among an array of other genres—in this substantial collection, which is strongly recommended overall.
A few of the Collected Stories enhancing my haunting season this year include:
• “Primes”— If you have a double in the world, wouldn’t one of you would be superfluous?
• “The Circle”—About the great power of storytelling and ritual, especially at this time of year.
• “Nine Hard Questions about the Nature of the Universe”—This should disabuse us of the notion that our most cherished human characteristics and concerns are of any consequence to the rest of the galaxy.
• “Lizard Men of Los Angeles”—A pulpy reality in which a Mandrakian hero and his enigmatic assistant encounter acolytes of Crowley and an even-more monstrous sub-culture in 30s L.A.
I hope among these suggestions you’ll find what you need to get into the proper frame of mind for a chilling Halloween. The thought of my readers lacking a good read, now that’s frightening.
Article first published as Recommended Halloween Reading on Blogcritics.
Halloween Wishes DO Come True!
Ah, Halloween, that magical season of the unexpected, when the out-of-the-ordinary waits around every bend, when all the wonder you wish for may be realized!
Or something. All I know is, like many adults, I’ve never outgrown my enthusiasm for it. And while I have adjusted my expectations to the extent that I no longer fully expect to see ol’ lady Liptrap take to the sky on a broom, I have to acknowledge some mysterious happenings at this time of year.
Growing up, I viewed every horror and sci-fi film I could, and was fortunate to have two highly entertaining TV horror film hosts within our reception range—Svengoolie (followed by, what else, Son of Svengoolie, in later years) and Nightmare Theatre MC, Sammy Terry. I'm not sure what he was supposed to be, but Sven resembled nothing so much as Mad Dogs and Englishmen-era Leon Russell with an extreme motel tan. Sammy dressed as a sort of unspecified ghoul with Dracula aspirations, and yellow latex gloves. His corny humor and booming baritone voice made even The Navy Versus the Night Monsters enjoyable.
When he got hold of fare like Bucket of Blood or Horror of Party Beach, it was great entertainment, and my ongoing affection for those films, and their like, is largely due to having Sammy Terry introduce me to them.
Flash forward to a few years ago, a spectacular October Saturday, and we’re in the scenic hills of southern Indiana, visiting one of our sons at college. The local library is having a sale, and I pick up a stack of LP's for 25 cents apiece, including a sealed copy of Best of Mancini, which includes the chilling “Experiment in Terror” that had been used (along with Link Wray’s “Rumble”) as theme music for Sammy Terry’s late night TV show.
We later went to the artists’ colony of Nashville, Indiana, with no specific plans. Wandering around the cluster of galleries and shops, we came across a line of people waiting to see, in a rare public appearance, Sammy Terry. An appearance we'd known nothing about!
Imagine stumbling across an autograph session with one of the formative figures of your youth, in the first place, and having an album of “his” theme music with you.
Sammy is now in his 70s and apparently hard of hearing, so his assistant had some difficulty explaining why I was asking him to sign a Mancini album. But once he got it, he was happy to sign, and was as gracious, and corny, as I could have hoped.
He even posed for this photo with me:
(I’m on the left. Ha!)
So whenever friends ridicule you for feeling a little magic in the air this Halloween, show them this photo, and remind them that, if you wish hard enough, perhaps you, too, can be choked by a childhood hero!
Article first published as Halloween Wishes DO Come True! on Blogcritics.
Or something. All I know is, like many adults, I’ve never outgrown my enthusiasm for it. And while I have adjusted my expectations to the extent that I no longer fully expect to see ol’ lady Liptrap take to the sky on a broom, I have to acknowledge some mysterious happenings at this time of year.
Growing up, I viewed every horror and sci-fi film I could, and was fortunate to have two highly entertaining TV horror film hosts within our reception range—Svengoolie (followed by, what else, Son of Svengoolie, in later years) and Nightmare Theatre MC, Sammy Terry. I'm not sure what he was supposed to be, but Sven resembled nothing so much as Mad Dogs and Englishmen-era Leon Russell with an extreme motel tan. Sammy dressed as a sort of unspecified ghoul with Dracula aspirations, and yellow latex gloves. His corny humor and booming baritone voice made even The Navy Versus the Night Monsters enjoyable.
When he got hold of fare like Bucket of Blood or Horror of Party Beach, it was great entertainment, and my ongoing affection for those films, and their like, is largely due to having Sammy Terry introduce me to them.
Flash forward to a few years ago, a spectacular October Saturday, and we’re in the scenic hills of southern Indiana, visiting one of our sons at college. The local library is having a sale, and I pick up a stack of LP's for 25 cents apiece, including a sealed copy of Best of Mancini, which includes the chilling “Experiment in Terror” that had been used (along with Link Wray’s “Rumble”) as theme music for Sammy Terry’s late night TV show.
We later went to the artists’ colony of Nashville, Indiana, with no specific plans. Wandering around the cluster of galleries and shops, we came across a line of people waiting to see, in a rare public appearance, Sammy Terry. An appearance we'd known nothing about!
Imagine stumbling across an autograph session with one of the formative figures of your youth, in the first place, and having an album of “his” theme music with you.
Sammy is now in his 70s and apparently hard of hearing, so his assistant had some difficulty explaining why I was asking him to sign a Mancini album. But once he got it, he was happy to sign, and was as gracious, and corny, as I could have hoped.
He even posed for this photo with me:
(I’m on the left. Ha!)
So whenever friends ridicule you for feeling a little magic in the air this Halloween, show them this photo, and remind them that, if you wish hard enough, perhaps you, too, can be choked by a childhood hero!
Article first published as Halloween Wishes DO Come True! on Blogcritics.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Our Scary Neighbors
I never intended to use this forum to approach any weightier topics than whether the worst rock band ever is REO Speedwagon or Styx. There are times, though, when I simply can't suppress my despair and I have to wail, to anyone reading, about the discouraging, downright frightening views held by those around me.
Within the past few weeks, on the same day, two of my nearby fellow citizens published letters in the local paper that are so dangerously misguided, they could have passed for the work of The Onion.
One had been given the heading, "Gun control hurts law-abiding people," which opened with the inarguable (and poorly-punctuated) statement that "it is not the guns that are committing the crimes; it is the people who are pulling the trigger." The writer contends that those people--this would be those committing crimes with guns--"are not law-abiding citizens." Again, no argument there; by definition, people are not law-abiding if they are committing gun crimes.
But this is just picking at his semantics.
Where he starts to seriously run off the rails is with the claim that "law-abiding citizens are the only ones affected by gun-control laws." Can it be that not one would-be criminal is inconvenienced by mandatory waiting periods or limits on automatic weapons. Could be, I suppose, but it sure seems improbable.
So what does the letter-writer propose we do about this intolerable situation? Apparently he is advocating universal gun ownership (although, possibly being against more government interference in our lives, he stops of short of demanding a legal mandate).
It is quite clear to this gent that, if "every citizen had a gun on his [sic.] hip," we wouldn't have to worry about "1.3 women" being "raped every minute" or 20 people losing their lives annually in bank robberies. Because the local gun-slingin' fella would intervene in these crimes, in a manner that would not cause loss of life, presumably. Hard to tell whether the 20 bank robbery victims include any perps, due to the total lack of supporting data. Also hard to tell if we are to issue shootin' irons to the little ladies, or just count on an armed good guy to be on hand whenever a rape is about to be committed.
There are more unsupported "facts," such as "most gun crimes are committed by people who had a record prior to the crime." Um, does that include gun crimes in which the perpetrator gets away? How do we know if those criminals have prior records? And as long as we're tossing around unsupported "facts," how about the one that says most gunshot victims in the U.S are shot by someone they know? Are all those accidental, "I didn't know it was loaded," family shootings done by convicted criminals?
Maybe the most irresponsible supporting anecdote offered by this NRA shill is the one lauding two students who restrained, at gunpoint, a killer of three at a Virginia law school in 2002. Two students who had guns in their cars despite a gun ban on the campus.
Does the letter-writer believe that flaunting the law is acceptable if those doing it seem like ok citizens, like the students, and not "criminals"?
And this guy clearly has not spent much time on a college campus if he seriously believes MORE guns should be introduced into the hotbed of hormones and alcohol that is many universities.
Obviously, the writer isn't concerned about presenting a shred of empirical evidence to support his views. Allow me to refute those views with some: thanks to the laxity of existing firearm laws, his state of residence is fifth in the nation in exporting guns used in crimes in other states; "right to carry" firearm laws have not reduced crime rates and are linked to an increase in aggravated assaults; guns are used in crimes four to six times more often than they are used in self-defense. (Citations available upon request.)
How could we be safer with even more guns in the hands of inexperienced users, even those with the best of intentions? Why does this guy's desire to own guns trump my right to live where every yahoo is packing? Does he truly believe that more guns in more citizens' hands would lead to less crime, or does he just want to continue to be able to buy as many guns as he wants, as easily as possible?
The second letter . . . "I agree that we should have engaged in war with Iraq, but I do not agree with being there this long. I think we should have gone over there, crippled the country and left. Why should we spend billions of dollars to rebuild a country that we spent billions of dollars to destroy?"
Why, indeed.
Who knows who she is agreeing with: those who think Iraq had anything to do with 9/11 or those who believe Saddam had weapons of mass destruction by the time we invaded them? Either way, they were asking for it, so why should we rebuild what we so justifiably destroyed?
What kind of human being acknowledges that our country "crippled" another, and has no obligation to help that nation return to the condition it was in when we invaded?
Do even those who believe "we should have engaged in war with Iraq" believe that innocent civilians there should suffer because of the destruction we wrought?
There is just one statement she writes that I agree with: "Our country now is in a recession because of this." So, I suppose by her reasoning, we should not incur any more debt to repair what we broke, even if it might be the right thing to do.
But, of course, to her way of thinking, it isn't.
I am sickened and disheartened by these views, and downright frightened to think they live right down the road from me.
Within the past few weeks, on the same day, two of my nearby fellow citizens published letters in the local paper that are so dangerously misguided, they could have passed for the work of The Onion.
One had been given the heading, "Gun control hurts law-abiding people," which opened with the inarguable (and poorly-punctuated) statement that "it is not the guns that are committing the crimes; it is the people who are pulling the trigger." The writer contends that those people--this would be those committing crimes with guns--"are not law-abiding citizens." Again, no argument there; by definition, people are not law-abiding if they are committing gun crimes.
But this is just picking at his semantics.
Where he starts to seriously run off the rails is with the claim that "law-abiding citizens are the only ones affected by gun-control laws." Can it be that not one would-be criminal is inconvenienced by mandatory waiting periods or limits on automatic weapons. Could be, I suppose, but it sure seems improbable.
So what does the letter-writer propose we do about this intolerable situation? Apparently he is advocating universal gun ownership (although, possibly being against more government interference in our lives, he stops of short of demanding a legal mandate).
It is quite clear to this gent that, if "every citizen had a gun on his [sic.] hip," we wouldn't have to worry about "1.3 women" being "raped every minute" or 20 people losing their lives annually in bank robberies. Because the local gun-slingin' fella would intervene in these crimes, in a manner that would not cause loss of life, presumably. Hard to tell whether the 20 bank robbery victims include any perps, due to the total lack of supporting data. Also hard to tell if we are to issue shootin' irons to the little ladies, or just count on an armed good guy to be on hand whenever a rape is about to be committed.
There are more unsupported "facts," such as "most gun crimes are committed by people who had a record prior to the crime." Um, does that include gun crimes in which the perpetrator gets away? How do we know if those criminals have prior records? And as long as we're tossing around unsupported "facts," how about the one that says most gunshot victims in the U.S are shot by someone they know? Are all those accidental, "I didn't know it was loaded," family shootings done by convicted criminals?
Maybe the most irresponsible supporting anecdote offered by this NRA shill is the one lauding two students who restrained, at gunpoint, a killer of three at a Virginia law school in 2002. Two students who had guns in their cars despite a gun ban on the campus.
Does the letter-writer believe that flaunting the law is acceptable if those doing it seem like ok citizens, like the students, and not "criminals"?
And this guy clearly has not spent much time on a college campus if he seriously believes MORE guns should be introduced into the hotbed of hormones and alcohol that is many universities.
Obviously, the writer isn't concerned about presenting a shred of empirical evidence to support his views. Allow me to refute those views with some: thanks to the laxity of existing firearm laws, his state of residence is fifth in the nation in exporting guns used in crimes in other states; "right to carry" firearm laws have not reduced crime rates and are linked to an increase in aggravated assaults; guns are used in crimes four to six times more often than they are used in self-defense. (Citations available upon request.)
How could we be safer with even more guns in the hands of inexperienced users, even those with the best of intentions? Why does this guy's desire to own guns trump my right to live where every yahoo is packing? Does he truly believe that more guns in more citizens' hands would lead to less crime, or does he just want to continue to be able to buy as many guns as he wants, as easily as possible?
The second letter . . . "I agree that we should have engaged in war with Iraq, but I do not agree with being there this long. I think we should have gone over there, crippled the country and left. Why should we spend billions of dollars to rebuild a country that we spent billions of dollars to destroy?"
Why, indeed.
Who knows who she is agreeing with: those who think Iraq had anything to do with 9/11 or those who believe Saddam had weapons of mass destruction by the time we invaded them? Either way, they were asking for it, so why should we rebuild what we so justifiably destroyed?
What kind of human being acknowledges that our country "crippled" another, and has no obligation to help that nation return to the condition it was in when we invaded?
Do even those who believe "we should have engaged in war with Iraq" believe that innocent civilians there should suffer because of the destruction we wrought?
There is just one statement she writes that I agree with: "Our country now is in a recession because of this." So, I suppose by her reasoning, we should not incur any more debt to repair what we broke, even if it might be the right thing to do.
But, of course, to her way of thinking, it isn't.
I am sickened and disheartened by these views, and downright frightened to think they live right down the road from me.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
Schrödinger's Radio Shack
I'm not even going to pretend to understand physics -- heck, I can barely handle experiencing them -- so the concept of Schrödinger's cat* pretty thoroughly eludes me. Which I will likely illustrate by saying I understand Schrödinger's cat to refer to outcomes not being fixed until observed. For my purposes, that's what it is.
[Let's go wiki for a summary of Schrödinger's Cat: A cat, along with a flask containing a poison and a radioactive source, is placed in a sealed box . . . If an internal Geiger counter detects radiation, the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Yet, when we look in the box, we see the cat either alive or dead.]
To my reductivist mind, this live/dead cat in a box notion also applies to a lot of the simple binary outcomes in my daily life: as I approach the intersection, that idiot will/will not run the stop sign; when I open the icebox, the leftover fettucini will/will not sport green fuzz; when I need a specialized piece of gear, I will/will not find it at a tiny, small town Radio Shack.
A few weeks ago, I had a gig with the (cover) band I play with, and went to the local 'Shack to pick up an SC card for my recorder. I'd been having trouble getting a sustain pedal to work with one of my keyboards, and was on the verge of ordering a pricey one from the manufacturer, Korg. The only pedal I'd used with success with this instrument was, inexplicably, one made by Yamaha, and I had to use it with my other instrument.
Perusing the clearance shelf, there was a dusty box, priced at $5, that promised to contain a sustain pedal, for use with RS or Yamaha keyboards.
Until I entered that store, it was equally likely, Schrödinger would say, that the pedal was, and was not there waiting for me.
Wouldn't it be something if I opened the box and there was a dead cat inside?
[Let's go wiki for a summary of Schrödinger's Cat: A cat, along with a flask containing a poison and a radioactive source, is placed in a sealed box . . . If an internal Geiger counter detects radiation, the flask is shattered, releasing the poison that kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Yet, when we look in the box, we see the cat either alive or dead.]
To my reductivist mind, this live/dead cat in a box notion also applies to a lot of the simple binary outcomes in my daily life: as I approach the intersection, that idiot will/will not run the stop sign; when I open the icebox, the leftover fettucini will/will not sport green fuzz; when I need a specialized piece of gear, I will/will not find it at a tiny, small town Radio Shack.
A few weeks ago, I had a gig with the (cover) band I play with, and went to the local 'Shack to pick up an SC card for my recorder. I'd been having trouble getting a sustain pedal to work with one of my keyboards, and was on the verge of ordering a pricey one from the manufacturer, Korg. The only pedal I'd used with success with this instrument was, inexplicably, one made by Yamaha, and I had to use it with my other instrument.
Perusing the clearance shelf, there was a dusty box, priced at $5, that promised to contain a sustain pedal, for use with RS or Yamaha keyboards.
Until I entered that store, it was equally likely, Schrödinger would say, that the pedal was, and was not there waiting for me.
Wouldn't it be something if I opened the box and there was a dead cat inside?
Cranky McCrankerson says . . .
Seems like I've been griping inordinately about traffic-related matters lately. (And if it seems like it here, just be thankful you're not on our commute.) It's because of our 60-mile commute that the I'm in Cranky McCrankerson mode.
Certainly there are more crucial issues facing our nation and our imperiled planet than traffic conditions and crossing guards. For many of us who have to drive daily, though, it's become a literal matter of life and death.
For no good reason, of course. People run stop signs and traffic signals for the same reason they cut in line and carry on cell phone conversations in movie theaters. They are inconsiderate and self-centered. You do not matter to these people; you are not worthy of consideration.
You are in their way.
There's an intersection we pass through every workday, where a two-lane state highway crosses the four-lane we take. Two schools, an elementary and a middle-and-high school, are inexplicably situated there, miles from anything but the most heavily-traveled road in the area. Traffic on the two-lane, north-south road has stop signs in both directions. They are supposed to yield to traffic on the four-lane.
And yet, it is a rare day that at least one driver doesn't pull out in front of us off that road. (Usually without signaling, often pulling across both lanes to take the passing lane.) While I have no statistics to verify, my ten-times-a-week observations would indicate that 100% of the collisions that occur at this intersection are due to failure to stop by north-south traffic.
The state highway department's solution to the epidemic of collisions has been to:
Isn't this a little like imprisoning victims to prevent them from being victimized again?
While the perps go free.
Certainly there are more crucial issues facing our nation and our imperiled planet than traffic conditions and crossing guards. For many of us who have to drive daily, though, it's become a literal matter of life and death.
For no good reason, of course. People run stop signs and traffic signals for the same reason they cut in line and carry on cell phone conversations in movie theaters. They are inconsiderate and self-centered. You do not matter to these people; you are not worthy of consideration.
You are in their way.
There's an intersection we pass through every workday, where a two-lane state highway crosses the four-lane we take. Two schools, an elementary and a middle-and-high school, are inexplicably situated there, miles from anything but the most heavily-traveled road in the area. Traffic on the two-lane, north-south road has stop signs in both directions. They are supposed to yield to traffic on the four-lane.
And yet, it is a rare day that at least one driver doesn't pull out in front of us off that road. (Usually without signaling, often pulling across both lanes to take the passing lane.) While I have no statistics to verify, my ten-times-a-week observations would indicate that 100% of the collisions that occur at this intersection are due to failure to stop by north-south traffic.
The state highway department's solution to the epidemic of collisions has been to:
- reduce the speed limit on the four-lane to 55 mph in the school area, which makes some sense, and
- install rumble strips to slow traffic and warn them of the upcoming intersection.
Isn't this a little like imprisoning victims to prevent them from being victimized again?
While the perps go free.
Battle of the Beatle Boots: when the pros turn amateur
Got a reminder recently, that some people find cover bands, in general, to be bogus.
This guy I used to be in a band with, one of the last times I saw him, gave me a rough time--as if I was supposed to be ashamed or apologetic--because playing in a cover band was "all" I was doing musically at the time.
Wish I'd had the presence of mind to point out it was more than he was doing. But that was essentially his contention, that he'd rather not play music than play cover music.
Certainly, if I had my preference, I'd rather always play music that I've written. And I consider myself very fortunate, not to mention atypical, to have had a band that played nearly as many of my original songs as it did covers, for a couple of years.
The fact is, for most of we amateur, part-time musicians, if we want to perform for anyone other than ourselves, we either play cover songs or we play to ourselves. By and large, folks who go out to a club or bar to hear live music want to hear live music they're familiar with.
So the choice for most of non-pro rock and rollers is not whether or not to play someone else's songs, but whether to play in public or not.
Along with being reminded of this smug former band mate, the other thing that brought the cover music issue to my mind was hearing Dwight Twilley's album, The Beatles.
It's a 2009 release whose cover emulates "The White Album," although the set covers material as old as "I'll Be Back" from A Hard Day's Night.
And it's . . . ok.
None of Twilley's arrangements are going to supplant the originals as anyone's favorites. His signature tremulous vocals sound to be in top form, and his voice and ear for harmony certainly lend themselves to this material. I question the need for another version of Come Together; the Aerosmith cover was all it took to convince me that the song is ridiculous, even unbearable, without Lennon's vocal. Several of Twilley's selections--Helter Skelter, Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey, Bungalow Bill, Tomorrow Never Knows--would make most short lists of the most challenging Beatles songs to attempt, which may have been the point. But there's no excuse for a cover version of the sniggering throwaway Why Don't We Do It In the Road, especially one that runs longer than the original.
Listening to Twilley's The Beatles is not unlike, oh, going to hear a really solid cover band.
You will enjoy it while it's in your ears, and you will never yearn to hear these versions again, over the originals. That's about the most good cover bands can aspire to.
(Also demoralizing, my discovery that he also released another all-covers album last year, Out of the Box, which includes five Beatles songs--at least some of them overlapping his all-Beatles album--among selections as inexplicable as Good Golly Miss Molly and, lord help me, Old Time Rock & Roll. The disappointment of learning about this has been somewhat mitigated by news of Green Blimp, apparently a new album of original material, due out yet this year.)
Twilley is a novice, though, compared to The Smithereens, who have released two albums composed entirely of Beatles material, including a complete cover of the Meet the Beatles album, essentially. a note-for-note rendition, only with DiNunzio's distinctive lead vocals. Which, after hearing it on two consecutive albums of the stuff, I can only conclude isn't all that well suited to stand in for either Lennon's or McCartney's.
To their credit, the 'reens' second album of Beatles covers, B Sides the Beatles, features some more-rarely covered material--Cry for a Shadow and Ask Me Why, in particular. Like Why Don't We Do It In the Road, it's just possible these songs aren't recorded that often because, in comparison to the rest of the Beatles' catalog, they just aren't that great!
(Ask Me Why, in fact, often makes "worst of the Beatles" lists. Bing that phrase and see what I mean. While I'm at it, Revolution #9 is not their worst song--it's a sound collage, not a song at all--and Ob-La-Di isn't the worst song ever, polls to that effect notwithstanding, although it sure is lame and annoying.)
Even more-worthy contributions to the vast Beatles tributes, such as Cheap Trick's live Sgt. Pepper's-with-orchestra, nice as they are to listen to, and impressive as they may be as performances, seem rather pointless. Yeah, you can play an entire album's worth of challenging songs extremely well . . . lots of people can! When are you going to turn out another album as good as In Color? You know, really contribute something new to rock and roll?
What disturbs me about this isn't hearing, sometimes buying more versions of songs I already own, dozens of times over. Or even that most of these renditions are imminently unnecessary.
It's that these bootleg Beatles could be performing their own songs, and that's a choice that's largely denied to we amateurs. Dwight Twilley and Cheap Trick, and to a lesser degree, The Smithereens have all written substantial amounts of original material, to the extent that, if tribute albums to them don't exist, they could.
Since when is it a legitimate career move for immensely talented songwriters to poach on the cover bands' turf? These are artists of the same caliber as those whose material we cover!
Maybe everyone wants to play Beatles' music, which is understandable, and who am I to claim that as exclusively the amateurs' province? Maybe I'm just sour because these pros play cover band out of choice, and I do it out of necessity.
Maybe I'm just ashamed of never having made it any further than the local cover band.
This guy I used to be in a band with, one of the last times I saw him, gave me a rough time--as if I was supposed to be ashamed or apologetic--because playing in a cover band was "all" I was doing musically at the time.
Wish I'd had the presence of mind to point out it was more than he was doing. But that was essentially his contention, that he'd rather not play music than play cover music.
Certainly, if I had my preference, I'd rather always play music that I've written. And I consider myself very fortunate, not to mention atypical, to have had a band that played nearly as many of my original songs as it did covers, for a couple of years.
The fact is, for most of we amateur, part-time musicians, if we want to perform for anyone other than ourselves, we either play cover songs or we play to ourselves. By and large, folks who go out to a club or bar to hear live music want to hear live music they're familiar with.
So the choice for most of non-pro rock and rollers is not whether or not to play someone else's songs, but whether to play in public or not.
Along with being reminded of this smug former band mate, the other thing that brought the cover music issue to my mind was hearing Dwight Twilley's album, The Beatles.
It's a 2009 release whose cover emulates "The White Album," although the set covers material as old as "I'll Be Back" from A Hard Day's Night.
And it's . . . ok.
None of Twilley's arrangements are going to supplant the originals as anyone's favorites. His signature tremulous vocals sound to be in top form, and his voice and ear for harmony certainly lend themselves to this material. I question the need for another version of Come Together; the Aerosmith cover was all it took to convince me that the song is ridiculous, even unbearable, without Lennon's vocal. Several of Twilley's selections--Helter Skelter, Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey, Bungalow Bill, Tomorrow Never Knows--would make most short lists of the most challenging Beatles songs to attempt, which may have been the point. But there's no excuse for a cover version of the sniggering throwaway Why Don't We Do It In the Road, especially one that runs longer than the original.
Listening to Twilley's The Beatles is not unlike, oh, going to hear a really solid cover band.
You will enjoy it while it's in your ears, and you will never yearn to hear these versions again, over the originals. That's about the most good cover bands can aspire to.
(Also demoralizing, my discovery that he also released another all-covers album last year, Out of the Box, which includes five Beatles songs--at least some of them overlapping his all-Beatles album--among selections as inexplicable as Good Golly Miss Molly and, lord help me, Old Time Rock & Roll. The disappointment of learning about this has been somewhat mitigated by news of Green Blimp, apparently a new album of original material, due out yet this year.)
Twilley is a novice, though, compared to The Smithereens, who have released two albums composed entirely of Beatles material, including a complete cover of the Meet the Beatles album, essentially. a note-for-note rendition, only with DiNunzio's distinctive lead vocals. Which, after hearing it on two consecutive albums of the stuff, I can only conclude isn't all that well suited to stand in for either Lennon's or McCartney's.
To their credit, the 'reens' second album of Beatles covers, B Sides the Beatles, features some more-rarely covered material--Cry for a Shadow and Ask Me Why, in particular. Like Why Don't We Do It In the Road, it's just possible these songs aren't recorded that often because, in comparison to the rest of the Beatles' catalog, they just aren't that great!
(Ask Me Why, in fact, often makes "worst of the Beatles" lists. Bing that phrase and see what I mean. While I'm at it, Revolution #9 is not their worst song--it's a sound collage, not a song at all--and Ob-La-Di isn't the worst song ever, polls to that effect notwithstanding, although it sure is lame and annoying.)
Even more-worthy contributions to the vast Beatles tributes, such as Cheap Trick's live Sgt. Pepper's-with-orchestra, nice as they are to listen to, and impressive as they may be as performances, seem rather pointless. Yeah, you can play an entire album's worth of challenging songs extremely well . . . lots of people can! When are you going to turn out another album as good as In Color? You know, really contribute something new to rock and roll?
What disturbs me about this isn't hearing, sometimes buying more versions of songs I already own, dozens of times over. Or even that most of these renditions are imminently unnecessary.
It's that these bootleg Beatles could be performing their own songs, and that's a choice that's largely denied to we amateurs. Dwight Twilley and Cheap Trick, and to a lesser degree, The Smithereens have all written substantial amounts of original material, to the extent that, if tribute albums to them don't exist, they could.
Since when is it a legitimate career move for immensely talented songwriters to poach on the cover bands' turf? These are artists of the same caliber as those whose material we cover!
Maybe everyone wants to play Beatles' music, which is understandable, and who am I to claim that as exclusively the amateurs' province? Maybe I'm just sour because these pros play cover band out of choice, and I do it out of necessity.
Maybe I'm just ashamed of never having made it any further than the local cover band.
Friday, October 01, 2010
Resumption of Service
Huh, another month goes by, and outta me, nothin'.
Since we last talked, I saw that long-running Charlie Sheen TV sitcom, and only made it through a few minutes. Until I saw the title in the credits, I thought it was called Two Half-Men. So it was kind of different than I was led to expect.
Thanks (?) to a CD titled Before They Were Hits Volume Five, I have now heard a version of "(They Long To Be) Close To You" I can tolerate even less than The Carpenters' . . . the original 1963 recording by Richard Chamberlain. At least Karen's amazing voice can distract from those drippy Richard Carpenter arrangements.
If vibrato were dynamite, Chamberlain's vocal on this thing would blow a crater the size of Tunguska. As it is, it just blows craters.
On the subject of intolerable singers, Kevin Cronin is doing infomercials for a dreadful Time-Life "rock ballads" collection. Hope they run it this month--it's creepy!
Kevin looks like that aunt who always smelled like gin rickies and hugged you considerably longer, and lower, than you were comfortable with.
Oh, and his voice makes "co-host" Amy Motta sound like a tough guy.
Look at me, I finally show up here and I'm nothing but a nattering nabob of negativity!
On more pleasant subjects, can you believe there are, at this late date, unheard Beatles recordings?
(Of course, if they were truly unheard, not even the bootleggers would know what they are. And what's with the phrase, "never before seen photos"? How did they process and print them if they've never been seen? How do they know what they are photos of?)
Last year brought the, um, revelatory Revolution 1, Take 20, a 10:47 version never before heard! Last I knew, experts considered it legit, and it's remarkable.
My latest Beatles boot discovery has probably been around for a while, just escaping my notice until now: Abbey Road minus the vocal tracks. This was their only album recorded on an eight-track recorder, and the power and depth of the instrumental tracks, already impressive on the released album, is stunning. The tightness of the collective band and signature flourishes of their individual players allows for the discovery of all kinds of nice little touches on songs I've heard hundreds of time. And it makes it easier to spot the little missteps, for those who are into that. Simply remarkable.
In yet more evidence that he's too good for the masses, Lew Shiner's "Death of Che Guevara" didn't win the Theodore Sturgeon Award for which it was nominated, which is both a shame and a puzzle. Though I'm hardly impartial, it's difficult to imagine a better piece of recent fiction. Go read it, at no cost, and see if you don't agree:
http://subterraneanpress.com/index.php/magazine/fall-2009/fiction-the-death-of-che-guevara-by-lewis-shiner/
I don't know much about much, but I do know good writing, and this is it. See if, like me, you don't read it a second or third time. I loves me some short stories and this has become one of my favorites.
And since you asked, more of my favorites from the inimitable Mr. Shiner are available in his COLLECTED STORIES (which is not only a pleasure to read, it looks spectacular on your end table), here:
http://www.subterraneanpress.com/Merchant2/merchant.mv?Screen=PROD&Product_Code=shiner03&Category_Code=B&Product_Count=124
and he's posted loads of his short and long-form writing, to read for free, at his Fiction Liberation Front site:
http://www.lewisshiner.com/liberation/index.htm
Did I mention, it's FREE!
Now you have no excuse not to be reading . . . go there!
Since we last talked, I saw that long-running Charlie Sheen TV sitcom, and only made it through a few minutes. Until I saw the title in the credits, I thought it was called Two Half-Men. So it was kind of different than I was led to expect.
Thanks (?) to a CD titled Before They Were Hits Volume Five, I have now heard a version of "(They Long To Be) Close To You" I can tolerate even less than The Carpenters' . . . the original 1963 recording by Richard Chamberlain. At least Karen's amazing voice can distract from those drippy Richard Carpenter arrangements.
If vibrato were dynamite, Chamberlain's vocal on this thing would blow a crater the size of Tunguska. As it is, it just blows craters.
On the subject of intolerable singers, Kevin Cronin is doing infomercials for a dreadful Time-Life "rock ballads" collection. Hope they run it this month--it's creepy!
Kevin looks like that aunt who always smelled like gin rickies and hugged you considerably longer, and lower, than you were comfortable with.
Oh, and his voice makes "co-host" Amy Motta sound like a tough guy.
Look at me, I finally show up here and I'm nothing but a nattering nabob of negativity!
On more pleasant subjects, can you believe there are, at this late date, unheard Beatles recordings?
(Of course, if they were truly unheard, not even the bootleggers would know what they are. And what's with the phrase, "never before seen photos"? How did they process and print them if they've never been seen? How do they know what they are photos of?)
Last year brought the, um, revelatory Revolution 1, Take 20, a 10:47 version never before heard! Last I knew, experts considered it legit, and it's remarkable.
My latest Beatles boot discovery has probably been around for a while, just escaping my notice until now: Abbey Road minus the vocal tracks. This was their only album recorded on an eight-track recorder, and the power and depth of the instrumental tracks, already impressive on the released album, is stunning. The tightness of the collective band and signature flourishes of their individual players allows for the discovery of all kinds of nice little touches on songs I've heard hundreds of time. And it makes it easier to spot the little missteps, for those who are into that. Simply remarkable.
In yet more evidence that he's too good for the masses, Lew Shiner's "Death of Che Guevara" didn't win the Theodore Sturgeon Award for which it was nominated, which is both a shame and a puzzle. Though I'm hardly impartial, it's difficult to imagine a better piece of recent fiction. Go read it, at no cost, and see if you don't agree:
http://subterraneanpress.com/index.php/magazine/fall-2009/fiction-the-death-of-che-guevara-by-lewis-shiner/
I don't know much about much, but I do know good writing, and this is it. See if, like me, you don't read it a second or third time. I loves me some short stories and this has become one of my favorites.
And since you asked, more of my favorites from the inimitable Mr. Shiner are available in his COLLECTED STORIES (which is not only a pleasure to read, it looks spectacular on your end table), here:
http://www.subterraneanpress.com/Merchant2/merchant.mv?Screen=PROD&Product_Code=shiner03&Category_Code=B&Product_Count=124
and he's posted loads of his short and long-form writing, to read for free, at his Fiction Liberation Front site:
http://www.lewisshiner.com/liberation/index.htm
Did I mention, it's FREE!
Now you have no excuse not to be reading . . . go there!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
At last, GLIMPSES is back!
http://www.boingboing.net/2010/08/30/shiners-glimpses-bac.html
Now you have no excuse for not having read it.
Do so, then come back here and we'll discuss.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The Lewis Shiner Appreciation Society
It's rare that I find myself to be moved to action -- really, by anything -- specifically by my strong reaction to art of any kind. And so, as with most things, in this situation, I find myself at a total loss how to effectively or appropriately respond.
Because a friend took exception this week to my referring to myself as a "failed writer," let's say I'm a writer who fails to reach his potential . . . who overreaches his abilities . . . who don't write good. Or very much.
My admiration for those who can and do "write good" is exceeded only by how much I enjoy their work.
One of those exceptional writers is Lewis Shiner. Reading his writing is one of my greatest pleasures at this stage in my life, and the friendships I've made by being a Shiner fan are among the greatest I've known.
I want more people to read Lewis Shiner. I think discerning readers will find themselves challenged, provoked, and moved by his writing. They may even make some new friends.
The Lewis Shiner Appreciation Society aims to bring more readers to his writing and to bring together those who already know, and appreciate it. Give it a look:
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/The-Lewis-Shiner-Appreciation-Society/143125009049253?ref=mf
Because a friend took exception this week to my referring to myself as a "failed writer," let's say I'm a writer who fails to reach his potential . . . who overreaches his abilities . . . who don't write good. Or very much.
My admiration for those who can and do "write good" is exceeded only by how much I enjoy their work.
One of those exceptional writers is Lewis Shiner. Reading his writing is one of my greatest pleasures at this stage in my life, and the friendships I've made by being a Shiner fan are among the greatest I've known.
I want more people to read Lewis Shiner. I think discerning readers will find themselves challenged, provoked, and moved by his writing. They may even make some new friends.
The Lewis Shiner Appreciation Society aims to bring more readers to his writing and to bring together those who already know, and appreciate it. Give it a look:
http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/pages/The-Lewis-Shiner-Appreciation-Society/143125009049253?ref=mf
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Diluted to Death
Imagine you own a Bugatti Veyron.
(For anyone reading who doesn't watch the BBC's Top Gear, if anyone is reading, the Veyron is a 1,000 horsepower luxury touring car, priced around $1.5M, one of the most expensive production vehicles ever made. So I consider it likely you, like I, have to imagine owning one.)
Now imagine that you take the Veyron to the garage for some work and, instead of a component made by Bugatti, your mechanic replaced the old part with one from a Ford Pinto. Depending on the part, there may not be a noticeable difference in performance.
But what if, every time the Veyron needs a part replaced, the mechanic slaps on some crappy piece from the Pinto.
Or for an example more of us can relate to, imagine you have a bottle of vodka in your liquor cabinet, and your lush uncle keeps drinking out of it, and adding water so you will never suspect.
Until you taste it, that is, and it becomes apparent just how weak and watered-down the vodka has become. If old unk does this often enough, the beverage will become so diluted, it cannot accurately and honestly be called "vodka" any longer.
"Vodka-infused water," maybe.
Likewise, swap out enough parts and the Veyron is no longer a luxury super car. It's a Pinto.
It seems to me that bands can be like that.
How many original members must a band lose before it's no longer honestly the same band people recognize? Which crucial members have to be lost to inferior replacements, or not replaced at all, before the performance is noticeably inferior and unsatisfactory?
How dishonest is it to bill your band as, I don't know, The Periodic Chart, when there no members of the beloved original incarnation remain?
You can call a Pinto, a Veyron, but that don't make it so.
(For anyone reading who doesn't watch the BBC's Top Gear, if anyone is reading, the Veyron is a 1,000 horsepower luxury touring car, priced around $1.5M, one of the most expensive production vehicles ever made. So I consider it likely you, like I, have to imagine owning one.)
Now imagine that you take the Veyron to the garage for some work and, instead of a component made by Bugatti, your mechanic replaced the old part with one from a Ford Pinto. Depending on the part, there may not be a noticeable difference in performance.
But what if, every time the Veyron needs a part replaced, the mechanic slaps on some crappy piece from the Pinto.
Or for an example more of us can relate to, imagine you have a bottle of vodka in your liquor cabinet, and your lush uncle keeps drinking out of it, and adding water so you will never suspect.
Until you taste it, that is, and it becomes apparent just how weak and watered-down the vodka has become. If old unk does this often enough, the beverage will become so diluted, it cannot accurately and honestly be called "vodka" any longer.
"Vodka-infused water," maybe.
Likewise, swap out enough parts and the Veyron is no longer a luxury super car. It's a Pinto.
It seems to me that bands can be like that.
How many original members must a band lose before it's no longer honestly the same band people recognize? Which crucial members have to be lost to inferior replacements, or not replaced at all, before the performance is noticeably inferior and unsatisfactory?
How dishonest is it to bill your band as, I don't know, The Periodic Chart, when there no members of the beloved original incarnation remain?
You can call a Pinto, a Veyron, but that don't make it so.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Martin Gordon calls "Time gentlemen, please!"
Martin Gordon is not a household name, even in my household, which is home to several albums he's on, going back to Sparks' Kimono My House, released in 1974.
Gordon's long-ago dismissal from Sparks was abrupt and seemingly inexplicable, and there was acrimonious fallout, but when the band recreated the album onstage last year, their bassist studiously copied Gordon's distinctive bass lines.
The other Gordon recordings I am most familiar with are those with his post-Sparks band, Jet. Not the contemporary one, the 70s one, the one AMG dubbed "the first glam super group." Gordon's songwriting flourished on the two albums' worth of material that has surfaced from the band, which trafficked in chunky guitar riffs and ridiculously catchy hooks.
Many of Jet's characteristics, and Gordon's exceptional songwriting, continued in the better-known Radio Stars and over series of solo albums. The most recent, Time Gentlemen Please, paints a typically dire portrait of 21st century humanity, but does it so entertainingly, it distracts one from the certainty of the impending apocalypse.
This review appeared, pretty much like this, on Blogcritics, and refers to a promotional
CD that was provided to me free* of charge:
When it arrived in the mail, the first thing I noticed is that Martin Gordon’s new album is nicely packaged. From the clever evolutionary clock front illo, to the artfully designed lyric pages within, the enclosed booklet reflects uncommon quality in these recessionary times. I also appreciated the helpful warnings on the back—“Do not place this CD in boiling water. In case of overwhelming hunger, do not attempt to eat this CD”—because, well, with me, better safe than sorry.
Gordon's long-ago dismissal from Sparks was abrupt and seemingly inexplicable, and there was acrimonious fallout, but when the band recreated the album onstage last year, their bassist studiously copied Gordon's distinctive bass lines.
The other Gordon recordings I am most familiar with are those with his post-Sparks band, Jet. Not the contemporary one, the 70s one, the one AMG dubbed "the first glam super group." Gordon's songwriting flourished on the two albums' worth of material that has surfaced from the band, which trafficked in chunky guitar riffs and ridiculously catchy hooks.
Many of Jet's characteristics, and Gordon's exceptional songwriting, continued in the better-known Radio Stars and over series of solo albums. The most recent, Time Gentlemen Please, paints a typically dire portrait of 21st century humanity, but does it so entertainingly, it distracts one from the certainty of the impending apocalypse.
This review appeared, pretty much like this, on Blogcritics, and refers to a promotional
CD that was provided to me free* of charge:
When it arrived in the mail, the first thing I noticed is that Martin Gordon’s new album is nicely packaged. From the clever evolutionary clock front illo, to the artfully designed lyric pages within, the enclosed booklet reflects uncommon quality in these recessionary times. I also appreciated the helpful warnings on the back—“Do not place this CD in boiling water. In case of overwhelming hunger, do not attempt to eat this CD”—because, well, with me, better safe than sorry.
Unfortunately, as interesting and appealing as Time Gentlemen Please appears, and as intriguing as it sounded that one time I played it in the car stereo on my commute, I’m a busy guy, and really, who’s got time to listen to a whole album, much less write it up?
Good thing there are so many capable music reviewers on the Internet. Radiant Future, Gordon’s longtime label, must have sent out scads of review copies, if the number of write-ups on the Web is any indication. Because they are all probably better reviewers than me, and like I say, I’m kind of rushed, I cut and pasted some of the best comments I found about Time Gentlemen Please, which I’ve compiled for you here:
“Gordon’s pedigree with preeminent art-rock outfits Sparks and Jet (his 70s glam band) stands him in good stead here, as the mad pop ideas and heady lyrics fly fast and furious. While an entertaining listen, his dour outlook on mankind’s prospects for the future will give one paws.” — Canine Fancier Quarterly
“One look at titles like "Houston We Gotta Drinking Problem" and "Incognito Ergo Sum" hint at bassist/songwriter Martin Gordon’s wit and facility with language, if not his lyrical concerns. This album, billed as “the fifth and final outpouring of bile and spite in the so-called Mammal Trilogy,” is Gordon’s soundtrack to the final ticks of the Atomic Clock, both a jovial indictment of humanity for what we’ve done to ourselves, and a resigned shrug at the futility and finality of our situation. Full of energy, yet thematically often downbeat, listening to this album is something like cutting your Xanax with crystal meth.” – Contemporary Drug Interaction Journal
“Another in a string of clever-bordering-on-brilliant solo offerings from a chronically underappreciated artist. The classically-trained Martin Gordon has surrounded himself with a tight band of like-minded, versatile players — check the nylon string-morphing-to slide guitar solo on “You Can’t See Me” — and a frontman-ready Swedish lead singer, Pelle Almgren, who has acknowledged that he doesn’t always understand what he’s singing. Gordon’s experience with Spark’s innovative songwriter, Ron Mael, is as evident as his impeccable influences.” — Offshore Heavy Equipment Manufacturing Monthly
“Standout cuts include the Jellyfish-esque "21st Century Blues," "On and On," the Kinks-y "Talulah Does the Hula From Hawaii," and the woozy, menacing, and captivating ‘Elephantasty.’ — Specialty Socket Sales
“Mr. Gordon and his friends play well together. Many of the selections lend themselves to dancing and singing along (although parents may wish to program around the tunes ‘If Boys Could Talk and Girls Could Think’ and ‘Shoot the Women First’ lest they lead to some awkward questions about gender equality!) Mom and Dad may recognize the Beatles’ classic, "I Feel Fine," by title if not otherwise. Where the original was bright and peppy, Mr. Gordon’s remake is slow and gloomy. He doesn’t sound ‘fine’ at all! (Note: Don’t be misled by the title, Time Gentlemen Please. This album does not attempt to teach either telling time or manners.)” — Childrens’ Recreation and Creativity Jamboree!
“Lively!” — Modern Mortuary Management
Overall, they seem to think this is a CD you ought to hear. Me, too! As soon as I get time . . .
* If the FCC truly has nothing better to do than police penny-ante bloggers like me over the handful of
promotional materials they receive every year, we are as doomed as Mr. Gordon makes us out to be.
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