Wow, family's gone for the night. It's Saturday. I have whiskey. And I'm almost 50.
I'm a pretty thankful bastard, as a variety of my blog posts suggests. But tonight, for once, I'm not going to write about being thankful about my family. I am, but we're not talking about them right now. I am thankful that I grew up in a period where there was gigantic, ridiculous, fabulous, brain-shattering, face-melting rock and roll. Not a festival. Festivals are stupid. But a stadium, amphitheater, dome, student center, or big fucking auditorium show. A headliner, and one or two known openers. I've never smoked cigarettes, but if I ever get lung cancer, you can be certain it's because I saw Whitesnake. The amount of hairspray, cologne, and cigarette smoke either is going to kill me or give super fucking powers to withstand anything ever in life. Big Dumb Rock for me started early, because I'm old. I remember us pre-teens singing Quiet Riot's "Cum On Feel The Noize" (it's just Slade) in early grade school walking down the halls to see if we'd get yelled at by the teachers or not. Of course we sang, "...Girls FUCK your boys..."). And back then, "pre-teen" wasn't a term. We were just kids...until we did something monumentally cool that pushed us over that "teen" line. A graduation, of sorts. Pre-teen is stupid. Saw a few concerts as a kid that were okay. Parents were there so I was still a kid. Then I went to the local college student center to see Night Ranger. This was in the late 80s--a transitional period for lads my age. Went with a kind-of-friend...but here's the kicker: his older sister and her friend were taking us. No parents. Just me, some dildo I went to school with, and two older chicks who were going to show us the ropes of concert-going. No brainer. Motherfucking Great White was the opener. They'd just come out with whatever shitty hit they had, and that somehow made the concert even more sought after. So we went. We couldn't drive, so the whole "big sister and friend" thing was pretty cool. Back then sisters didn't take care of their little brothers and their friends. They transported them to wherever they were instructed to, then parted ways after saying, "Meet us here after the show.". Right on. Found our seats, Inhaled more cigarette smoke than my grandpa ever did in his lifetime (and he was a smoker), listened to the loud warm-up tunes while the lights were still on, checked out our surroundings, gawked at chicks with gigantic hair that were waaaay out of any league we were ever associated with, settled in and got comfy. Fuck man, we were 14 and getting ready to party! Kind of. Simultaneously, the warm-up tunes abruptly stop and the lights go down. The crowd lost their minds. It was the opening band, Great Motherfucking White! They were unmemorable, except for the fact that they didn't burn down the auditorium and kill a bunch of people. There were songs that were fun, and everyone had swell time. Remember, I'm old, so during this show not many people knew who Great White was. Fuck, they still don't. But then finally they ended after maybe an hour of okayness...for a 14yr old in the 80s. It soon became obvious that everyone in the smoked-filled college basketball auditorium was there to see one band, and that band was none other than NIGHT RANGER. Opening band's shit was quickly moved offstage while we all listened to Def Leppard's "High and Dry", Finally, finally, the lights go dark again. Another crux. Only this one apparently is the main crux, not the stupid preliminary one. Cigarette lighters lit up the college-owned student center and suddenly a mysterious guitar started playing loud, mindless feedback. A spotlight centered on some dude. A member of Night Ranger, I assume. Then, a song I recognized started by way of guitar going from said feedback to song beginning. It was "You Can Still Rock in America", a fun rock tune from the 1900s with a catchy riff and fist-in-the-air chorus. Everyone around us, all fairly older than us, rocked out by way of banging heads a bit and devil horns in the air (which was a prerequisite for any live rock show, even Night Ranger). After an entire concert of songs that I can't name, except for "Sister Christian", we walked around the center, a couple satisfying high-fives to older concert-goers, and plenty of people gawking. Made it home late that night, and I'm sure my mom had to burn my clothes. Man, cigarettes were popular then. After that, my age, taste in music, taste in lifestyle, choice in friends, and overall joy of loud music mixed with charismatic machismo and kickassery led me to numerous big dumb rock & roll shows. These shows are rare nowadays. Yeah, you can go see Night Ranger at the county fair on the second stage on Thursday, right after Billy Ray Cyrus. But you can't smoke cigarettes. Not allowed. You might have a similar experience at a Foo Fighters show or maybe someone else I can't think of right now. But they'll never be the same as they were in the early days of fuckin' shit up. I talk big, but I didn't attend shows in the 70s or early 80s. You sonsabitches don't know what you had. Queen, Sabbath, Zeppelin, VH, AC/DC...in their prime. Son of gun. Now, these big dumb rock shows served their purpose. Back then, we actually liked to "party". A term forgone in today's language. We figured out where the other kids were by way of a couple telephone calls from a parent's landline (the only line), and then did our due diligence in finding where the best action was. That's right. If it were a house party, you can bet all of the big dumb rock bands were blasting via cassette tape. If it were a concert night, well shit, that just cranked the evening up to 11. The 80s were fun and brainless. Big. Dumb. Carefree. I have love affairs with punk rock music, some jazz, reggae, old country, and some other shit...but big, dumb, rock will always be part of my personality. It's so ridiculous, but so fucking wonderful. I'm drinking whisk, per use, and listening to a swell 80s metal mix I put together on my iPod. Remember that little green 3" iPod thing you could buy at Sears? I listen to that thing sometimes because I'm old and I don't care. At any rate, I hope you listen to this shit and enjoy yourself. That's what it's there for. It's both tongue-in-cheek, and tongue out. Rock on, dildos. -earl
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As another day of marathon child watching (or parenting, as some call it...) comes to a close, I find myself curled up with my daughter watching her new favorite movie, "Return of the Jedi". She likes the Muppets and the crappy CGI and all that. I am tired and numb and crotchety from hours upon hours upon hours of dadding, so I judge one of my all-time favorite things in life: Star Wars.
I am a major nerd when it comes to most things Star Wars--always have been. But I've never put much thought into "Jedi"--especially the opening sequence centered around Jabba's palace. Tonight though, I did. One: Let's just address the elephant in the room that is an all-around travesty of a representation of anything Star Wars in the character, Sy Snootles. The original wasn't great. If I remember correctly, the animatronics on her were reminiscent of the robotic mannequins in Herbie Hancock's "Rockit" video. The overall visual design worked ok, but the movements all seemed compromised and way too 1983 as far as Star Wars standards go. And now...NOW we have to watch Lucas's horseshit remake of a scene with an overly cartooned Sy, now aided by an even more nauseatingly cartooned Joe Cocker-looking motherfucker singing space jibberish at my face along with an elaborate, nails-on-the-chalkboard musical number. Throw in a very poorly-made Muppet playing the harmonica, and it gets really rough. Like, Jar Jar rough. Two: After a plan that pretty much sucked and failed, Luke comes in to save the day. Thing is, he pretty much sucks at being a Jedi at this point still. Definitely not up to Mandalorian final-episode standards yet. Why the elaborate plan to put the lightsaber in R2's head? Why not just bring the lightsaber into the palace with you and start fucking shit up? Why have a wink at Lando and then really do nothing? There was no plan there. Lando fell off the skiff...pretty much immediately. And the Rancor battle...c'mon man. Any other Jedi would've barbecued that fucker. At least give a little Jedi nod to close the gate on him instead of throwing a skull at it like a girl. Use the fucking Force, not your 4th grade girl's softball skills. They were all bringing some serious weak shit to this plan, and somehow salvaged a win out of it. I'm just glad Sy blew up on that sailbarge. Three: Boba...worst death ever. He's your most popular character coming off of "Empire", and you feed him to the Little Shop of Horrors houseplant by way of an unarmed blind man accidentally backing into him? Insult to injury--said houseplant belches afterwards. Show some fucking respect, George. I mean, I love Star Wars. But there's really only 3 or 4 good movies out of the 11. I wouldn't mind a total reboot done the way it should be done. Leave the original three and give them a better visual updating. Scrap the the prequels and call a redo. Hell, scrap the final Rey films and try again...they were good for nostalgia's sake, but pretty poor upon revisiting a few years later...sans maybe "The Force Awakens". Maybe. I tried to get Rubes to watch "Rouge One", but no dice. She likes what she likes. I can respect that. I'll stick to watching "Empire" on repeat and gorging myself with Mando reruns and feast upon "Book of Boba Fett" and Obi Wan's new show when they come out. Filoni and Favreau seem to have things under control. Hopefully there are more plans to clean up George's shitstorm and make things right. Nerds deserve that. But "Jedi"? Yeah, I've seen it 47,000 times. And yeah, it's a bit of a bummer of a sequel to to the greatest movie ever. But it's still fucking wonderful. -earl |
AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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