I've had a long week. Yes, I work for a fly fishing company and it's fun. But it's a lot of hard work, too. This Saturday evening (my Friday), I would just prefer that my brain turn off for the most part--or at the very least go into a frame that is low on the intelligence totem pole.
When that mood strikes, I turn to big, dumb rock. BDR is like an old high school friend who just never really grew up. He's still stuck in the 80s and is hell-bent on drinking a ton of shitty beer, chasing skanks, and smoking ditch weed out of an apple or empty Busch Light can. He still sports a hood-'stache and a jean jacket that reeks of cigarettes and tacos...ripped jeans and high top sneakers. Maybe some acne scars. Probably drives an '84 Camaro. You love the dude to death, but can only take him in small doses. But when it comes time for those doses, look out. Don't plan on getting too deep while enjoying Big Dumb Rock. The lyrics that you'll be greeted with revolve around chicks, partying, and that's about it. Which is one reason I am enamored with it. It's big. And it's dumb. BDR starts in the 70s--at least in my book. Crunchy 70s rock started the whole ride, and 80s hair metal took it to a whole new dumb. Foghat, Motorhead, Aerosmith, AC/DC, KISS, and Van Halen started what Whitesnake, RATT, Motley Crue, and Guns 'n Roses continued. Both decades cross over in dumbness, with many bands starting in the 70s and getting dumber in the 80s (eg: KISS). If you listen to BDR, you are automatically cool as shit in my book. If you listen to BDR and take it seriously, you are a phenomenal human. I like it, on many occasions, but cannot take it seriously. I lived through the majority of it, because I am old, and have seen many of the bands play live in their heyday. But I know it is big and dumb, and although I listen with a pumping, clinched fist and and a pseudo-high-pitched scream, I laugh. Because it's so ridiculous, but so incredible and necessary. If you live and die for BDR in a serious manner, then God bless your soul. With such song titles as "Lick It Up", "Slide It In", "Rock Rock Til You Drop", "Rock You Like a Hurricane", "Rock Me", "I Wanna Rock", and "Cum on Feel the Noize" you have to grin a bit as you lay the needle down or press play. You know what you're getting into. It's a guilty pleasure. Winger? C'mon, man. If you take Winger seriously, you are probably a father raper. If you listen to Winger, but laugh whilst rocking out, then I think you're in the clear. Big Dumb Rock congers up a simpler time. When all you had to worry about was how many beers you were going drink, how many chicks you were going to put the moves on (that's right), and what apparatus you were going to smoke backroads Iowa ditch weed out of. It represents going to an amphitheater concert and tailgating in the grass parking lot with your favorite light beer and gratuitous bottle of Jack Daniels. There's a good chance you were wearing ripped blue jeans and a black t-shirt. A real good chance. When adulthood becomes arduous, when real life starts to make your eyelid twitch uncontrollably, try some "Looks That Kill" by Motley Crue. If your kids have made you nearly literally lose your mind within the last 48 hours, try spinning the album "KISS: Alive". I understand that you are a mature, cultured adult. That's cool, buddy. But please do not neglect yourself of brainless, party-induced, stadium rock performed with long hair and spandex. Give it shot. It's a nice little vacation from actual brainwork and reality, in general. Fuckin' A, man. Fuckin' A. //re.
0 Comments
|
AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
|