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When it comes to singers, there are simple entertainers...and then, there are stylists. When I say 'stylist', Ray Charles comes to mind. Stevie Wonder too. Aretha Franklin...Pheobe Snow...and of course, EDDIE MONEY (aka Edward Joseph Mahoney). One of the best. I'd say hands down, this guy has influenced more musicians in Seattle than Ann Wilson or Mark Arm. Am I right? C'mon...fess up to it! You love Eddie Money just as much as the rest of us...and he's making another comeback! How could you be so foolish to miss history in the making?
Who could forget when he titilated and delighted us on 'The Midnight Special' singing "Baby Hold On"? Watch this video. See and feel the tender emotion and raw energy just oozing out of this guy...
How about that MTV video from 1983 with the wild chick in the Cadillac...remember "Shakin'"?
What a snazzy guy, huh? He's street tough too. He was even nice enough to include one of his idols, Ronnie Spector, on the recording and video of his 1986 hit song "Take Me Home Tonight".
<Excuse me...I must go throw up!>
Ok, sorry about that. I'm back. Eddie Money also has a really talented daughter, Jesse Money. Daddy and Daughter Mahoney are the newest rock family to step into the MTV reality show spotlight to give Eddie that extra comback career boost he so desperately needs right now ("Rock The Cradle" MTV series/ check your local listings). Check out his daughter in action, covering Janis Joplin's "Turtle Blues". Brittney Spears never rocked out this hard! Daddy Money knows best! She might even be better than her dad.
...And who could forget that groundbreaking Carl's Jr. commercial Eddie did in 1996-
Yes folks, Eddie Money is back! He's currently preparing (or most likely trying to find a label) to release his new country CD "The Other Side Of Money". Listen to this sample clip of his country remake, and duet with Vince Gill, of "Two Tickets To Paradise"...
Now...I ask you, person who's extremely bored enough to get this far down the page...did you think I was serious about the Ann Wilson/Mark Arm thing? If so, I bet you'd believe anything.
Eddie Money is the biggest rock geek in the world...and this, ladies and gentlemen, is part of what makes the world go 'round. All in all, he's rock's court jester for all the forgotten nobodys...a symbol of blatant nerd-machismo to sell to the kind of man or woman who work in factories Monday through Friday, and spend their weekends eating hot dogs and drinking beer and making love to people with moustaches.
Keep on rockin' for us Eddie!
Who could forget when he titilated and delighted us on 'The Midnight Special' singing "Baby Hold On"? Watch this video. See and feel the tender emotion and raw energy just oozing out of this guy...
How about that MTV video from 1983 with the wild chick in the Cadillac...remember "Shakin'"?
What a snazzy guy, huh? He's street tough too. He was even nice enough to include one of his idols, Ronnie Spector, on the recording and video of his 1986 hit song "Take Me Home Tonight".
<Excuse me...I must go throw up!>
Ok, sorry about that. I'm back. Eddie Money also has a really talented daughter, Jesse Money. Daddy and Daughter Mahoney are the newest rock family to step into the MTV reality show spotlight to give Eddie that extra comback career boost he so desperately needs right now ("Rock The Cradle" MTV series/ check your local listings). Check out his daughter in action, covering Janis Joplin's "Turtle Blues". Brittney Spears never rocked out this hard! Daddy Money knows best! She might even be better than her dad.
...And who could forget that groundbreaking Carl's Jr. commercial Eddie did in 1996-
Yes folks, Eddie Money is back! He's currently preparing (or most likely trying to find a label) to release his new country CD "The Other Side Of Money". Listen to this sample clip of his country remake, and duet with Vince Gill, of "Two Tickets To Paradise"...
Now...I ask you, person who's extremely bored enough to get this far down the page...did you think I was serious about the Ann Wilson/Mark Arm thing? If so, I bet you'd believe anything.
Eddie Money is the biggest rock geek in the world...and this, ladies and gentlemen, is part of what makes the world go 'round. All in all, he's rock's court jester for all the forgotten nobodys...a symbol of blatant nerd-machismo to sell to the kind of man or woman who work in factories Monday through Friday, and spend their weekends eating hot dogs and drinking beer and making love to people with moustaches.
Keep on rockin' for us Eddie!
One thing that I like about human beings is that we all have our little quirks that shape the way that we see ourselves or how others see us. I guess blogs tell the story if we choose to be showoffs. It is up to us whether or not we want to carry the full vision or possible facade of our quirks over to our friends, relatives and people at large. I call it creativity or a cry for help, if you will. Why do I get on stage? Why do I write blogs? Who made up that stupid space-age word 'blog' anyway?
Also, we each have our own favorite movies, bands, drugs, whatever, that we enjoy for entertainment, and sometimes we strive to let people know at the drop of a hat. This is part of being human. Human. Human. Human. We're only human. 'Human' rhymes with 'albumin'. Take the "in" away from the end of albumin and you have an "album". Remember albums? Some guy, not naming names, corrected me last week when I called a CD an "album". He said, "You mean 'CD', right?".
I said, "Wrong! Album."
Why is it that we cannot call CDs "albums"? Or can we? I'm confused. I always thought that an 'album' was a compilation of pictures, songs, or short stories, etc. Am I right? Same thing with calling it a "record"...you push 'record' and make the damn thing...am I right or wrong?
Anyways (with an 's' at the end and yes I'm aware that it's bad grammar), people still make albums even though they put them on CDs instead. People are always putting out good albums and hopefully they will contnue to do so, even though the industry is reverting back to a song-by-song format in the shape of an mp3. Wow...even back in 1998, I wasn't talking like this. So much has happened so fast when it comes to technology. I'm starting to sound old. This is what happens when you get older.
Like I said, everyone has their own favorite band or bands. Mine is Steely Dan by default. It's a curse...and a way of life. Steely Dan has always been there for me whether I need them or not. Fuck the whole yacht rock thing for lack of anything better to compare them to or talk about amongst your friends. Admit it, you may be one of those people that hated Steely Dan, but Yacht Rock came along and made it cool to like them again. Not in my case...no no no...I live and breathe friggin' Steely Dan whether I like it or not. Sometimes it suffocates me until I'm gasping for air, but Steely Dan is like my security blanket and my nemesis all-in-one. Steely Dan is a part of me that I cannot deny.
My parents tell it to me like this: When I was about two in 1974 (the year "Pretzel Logic" came out), they witnessed me singing my first sentence, which was "Rikki Don't Lose That Number", or better yet, "Wikki don' wooze dat numboe!". Dad tells me of the excitement he had when he invited his friends over to the house to get stoned and had them watch me, with headphones on, sing it to them, which set the precedent of my life. I always looked up to my father...wanted to be like him in every way. Steely Dan was my connection to it all. Steely Dan took the place of a father that I loved, still love, when he was not there to talk to, which was often. He's aware of this, which fortunately seals the deal for me.
I stood like the odd kid out when it came to my classmates and their addiction to KISS. I had Steely Dan...and paid for it in shame. "Hey dude, check out my copy of 'Destroyer'". "COOL. HAVE YOU HEARD 'THE ROYAL SCAM' BY STEELY DAN?". "Nah, screw that. Steely Dan's for pussies."
Each song by Steely Dan has a place, time, and memory for me. I'm aware that we all have these experiences with music. There are just some kinds of music that we ignore because we hate it. I don't even know if I love or hate Steely Dan. They're just there, that's all. They're there for me, whether I want them there or not...both of them, dammit. Fagen and Becker...STARING at me with those creepy sunglasses on, inside the fold-out of the vinyl version of 'Aja'.
Of course, I view and listen to Steely Dan in album format rather than the random shuffle habit that some of us have. Listening to the complete album, in my opinion, is the only way to listen to Steely Dan. Take 'Can't Buy A Thrill'* for example- a really creepy, cold, funky album from start-to-finish. The first two records are both like that. 'Countdown To Ecstasy' is the same way- cold and funky, but with a more callous egde...and if you could taste that album, I would say that it tastes like a moldy grape. It makes me feel kind-of squeamish to listen to those albums...but the effect has a sort-of numbing-of-the-spine process for me. Imagine biting down on a 9 volt battery and then translate it to your spine. Were you one of those kids who liked putting your tongue on a 9 volt battery? I was. The first two albums are there for me in this same way.
'Pretzel Logic" feels a bit more polished and real...a nice analog album that will never ever translate very well digitally in my opinion. I'm glad that they have kept it that way, and didn't try to change the mix or remaster it in some strange way. That album takes away the spine pain and changes it to chills...raises the goosebumps. Side two in particular is an amazing song cycle. If you can get past Donald Fagen's voice, which is hands-down one of the best of all time since most people love it and hate it just the same, the songs end up hooking you like a jazz rock slut. 'Charlie Freak', in particular, is an example of what loneliness tastes like. I feel that this record tastes like an avocado.
'Katy Lied' tastes like a salty kippered snack, but you can tell me different. 'The Royal Scam' tastes like a lemon. 'Aja' tastes like lime soda. 'Gaucho' tastes like rotten nutmeg. All of Donald Fagen's solo albums taste like chocolate cake with a hint of orange mint, especially his latest one, 'Morph The Cat'. Walter Becker's solo record from the '90s tastes like salmon without any butter or seasoning, with occasional hints of lasagna. "Two Against Nature", which I do not like for some reason, tastes like left-over spaghetti covered with unsweetened tomato paste. 'Everything Must Go' doesn't taste like anything...come to think of it, maybe it has sort-of a plain Perrier sparkling water bite to it.
When I am seriously hung over, like I am today, I like to punish myself in a musical masochistic way, by listening to the ABC records version of 'Countdown To Ecstasy' from start to finish. I think that I'm growing up a bit, especially since I cheated today (please don't tell anybody...) by skipping over 'Show Biz Kids' and 'My Old School' on side two and went straight to 'Pearl Of The Quarter'. I have plans to give the previous two neglected songs some quality time later on, and I hope that they do not resent me for not giving them ear time today.
I used to have marathons, where I would listen to every 70's Steely Dan record in chronological order, which takes about 6 hours or so out of your day. However, it's not usually a complete waste of time if you're getting drunk with Steely Dan. I would usually drink about 20 beers in that same 6 hour duration, and by the time I would get to 'Gaucho', I would not remember listening to it. For this reason, 'Gaucho' does not get a lot of my time, because it just kind of hangs in the air, in it's rotten nutmeg way...not that it's a bad album...I mean, it's a classic...but for that same reason, I try not to use Steely Dan as an excuse to get fucked up anymore. Rather, I try and use Steely Dan as a hangover cure.
Some of the best guitar playing and solos in the world can be found on these records. Sometimes, people forget that. They're too busy aping the lyrics to "Peggggg, it will come back to you....Pegggggg, it will come back to you." Somebody told me once that they thought that the lyrics to 'Hey Nineteen' were actually "Canine teeth!". That's fucking funny...at least in my world, it is.
Sometimes though, just like in any marriage or relationship, I get fed up and want to divorce Steely Dan, so I can get on with my life...but somehow, they come back, because they're one of the most popular bands of all time. You can run, but you can't hide from the dark force that is Steely Dan. They'll find you everywhere, hiding in grocery stores, passing cars, tv commercials, garbage cans and back alleys. I even once saw a stray rabid dog, who came up and barked the guitar lead-in of 'Bodhisattva' to me. Just kidding. I'm not that crazy. Or am I?
Well, that's really it, Dr. Wu. I can't think of anything much else to add. As my psychiatrist, you can tell me if I need to be medicated or not. Steely Dan is such a part of me, that I tried to cut it away from my body. It won't ease up on the suction part of it's mouth. I believe that it's actually sucking all of my life's blood out of my body like a leech...drop by drop. My heart beats like my blood is infected and turning into molasses. There must be a cure.
Can you hear me, doctor? Are you with me, doctor?
(*'Can't Buy A Thrill' has always tasted to me like toothpaste. Look at the cover...you tell me.)
Also, we each have our own favorite movies, bands, drugs, whatever, that we enjoy for entertainment, and sometimes we strive to let people know at the drop of a hat. This is part of being human. Human. Human. Human. We're only human. 'Human' rhymes with 'albumin'. Take the "in" away from the end of albumin and you have an "album". Remember albums? Some guy, not naming names, corrected me last week when I called a CD an "album". He said, "You mean 'CD', right?".
I said, "Wrong! Album."
Why is it that we cannot call CDs "albums"? Or can we? I'm confused. I always thought that an 'album' was a compilation of pictures, songs, or short stories, etc. Am I right? Same thing with calling it a "record"...you push 'record' and make the damn thing...am I right or wrong?
Anyways (with an 's' at the end and yes I'm aware that it's bad grammar), people still make albums even though they put them on CDs instead. People are always putting out good albums and hopefully they will contnue to do so, even though the industry is reverting back to a song-by-song format in the shape of an mp3. Wow...even back in 1998, I wasn't talking like this. So much has happened so fast when it comes to technology. I'm starting to sound old. This is what happens when you get older.
Like I said, everyone has their own favorite band or bands. Mine is Steely Dan by default. It's a curse...and a way of life. Steely Dan has always been there for me whether I need them or not. Fuck the whole yacht rock thing for lack of anything better to compare them to or talk about amongst your friends. Admit it, you may be one of those people that hated Steely Dan, but Yacht Rock came along and made it cool to like them again. Not in my case...no no no...I live and breathe friggin' Steely Dan whether I like it or not. Sometimes it suffocates me until I'm gasping for air, but Steely Dan is like my security blanket and my nemesis all-in-one. Steely Dan is a part of me that I cannot deny.
My parents tell it to me like this: When I was about two in 1974 (the year "Pretzel Logic" came out), they witnessed me singing my first sentence, which was "Rikki Don't Lose That Number", or better yet, "Wikki don' wooze dat numboe!". Dad tells me of the excitement he had when he invited his friends over to the house to get stoned and had them watch me, with headphones on, sing it to them, which set the precedent of my life. I always looked up to my father...wanted to be like him in every way. Steely Dan was my connection to it all. Steely Dan took the place of a father that I loved, still love, when he was not there to talk to, which was often. He's aware of this, which fortunately seals the deal for me.
I stood like the odd kid out when it came to my classmates and their addiction to KISS. I had Steely Dan...and paid for it in shame. "Hey dude, check out my copy of 'Destroyer'". "COOL. HAVE YOU HEARD 'THE ROYAL SCAM' BY STEELY DAN?". "Nah, screw that. Steely Dan's for pussies."
Each song by Steely Dan has a place, time, and memory for me. I'm aware that we all have these experiences with music. There are just some kinds of music that we ignore because we hate it. I don't even know if I love or hate Steely Dan. They're just there, that's all. They're there for me, whether I want them there or not...both of them, dammit. Fagen and Becker...STARING at me with those creepy sunglasses on, inside the fold-out of the vinyl version of 'Aja'.
Of course, I view and listen to Steely Dan in album format rather than the random shuffle habit that some of us have. Listening to the complete album, in my opinion, is the only way to listen to Steely Dan. Take 'Can't Buy A Thrill'* for example- a really creepy, cold, funky album from start-to-finish. The first two records are both like that. 'Countdown To Ecstasy' is the same way- cold and funky, but with a more callous egde...and if you could taste that album, I would say that it tastes like a moldy grape. It makes me feel kind-of squeamish to listen to those albums...but the effect has a sort-of numbing-of-the-spine process for me. Imagine biting down on a 9 volt battery and then translate it to your spine. Were you one of those kids who liked putting your tongue on a 9 volt battery? I was. The first two albums are there for me in this same way.
'Pretzel Logic" feels a bit more polished and real...a nice analog album that will never ever translate very well digitally in my opinion. I'm glad that they have kept it that way, and didn't try to change the mix or remaster it in some strange way. That album takes away the spine pain and changes it to chills...raises the goosebumps. Side two in particular is an amazing song cycle. If you can get past Donald Fagen's voice, which is hands-down one of the best of all time since most people love it and hate it just the same, the songs end up hooking you like a jazz rock slut. 'Charlie Freak', in particular, is an example of what loneliness tastes like. I feel that this record tastes like an avocado.
'Katy Lied' tastes like a salty kippered snack, but you can tell me different. 'The Royal Scam' tastes like a lemon. 'Aja' tastes like lime soda. 'Gaucho' tastes like rotten nutmeg. All of Donald Fagen's solo albums taste like chocolate cake with a hint of orange mint, especially his latest one, 'Morph The Cat'. Walter Becker's solo record from the '90s tastes like salmon without any butter or seasoning, with occasional hints of lasagna. "Two Against Nature", which I do not like for some reason, tastes like left-over spaghetti covered with unsweetened tomato paste. 'Everything Must Go' doesn't taste like anything...come to think of it, maybe it has sort-of a plain Perrier sparkling water bite to it.
When I am seriously hung over, like I am today, I like to punish myself in a musical masochistic way, by listening to the ABC records version of 'Countdown To Ecstasy' from start to finish. I think that I'm growing up a bit, especially since I cheated today (please don't tell anybody...) by skipping over 'Show Biz Kids' and 'My Old School' on side two and went straight to 'Pearl Of The Quarter'. I have plans to give the previous two neglected songs some quality time later on, and I hope that they do not resent me for not giving them ear time today.
I used to have marathons, where I would listen to every 70's Steely Dan record in chronological order, which takes about 6 hours or so out of your day. However, it's not usually a complete waste of time if you're getting drunk with Steely Dan. I would usually drink about 20 beers in that same 6 hour duration, and by the time I would get to 'Gaucho', I would not remember listening to it. For this reason, 'Gaucho' does not get a lot of my time, because it just kind of hangs in the air, in it's rotten nutmeg way...not that it's a bad album...I mean, it's a classic...but for that same reason, I try not to use Steely Dan as an excuse to get fucked up anymore. Rather, I try and use Steely Dan as a hangover cure.
Some of the best guitar playing and solos in the world can be found on these records. Sometimes, people forget that. They're too busy aping the lyrics to "Peggggg, it will come back to you....Pegggggg, it will come back to you." Somebody told me once that they thought that the lyrics to 'Hey Nineteen' were actually "Canine teeth!". That's fucking funny...at least in my world, it is.
Sometimes though, just like in any marriage or relationship, I get fed up and want to divorce Steely Dan, so I can get on with my life...but somehow, they come back, because they're one of the most popular bands of all time. You can run, but you can't hide from the dark force that is Steely Dan. They'll find you everywhere, hiding in grocery stores, passing cars, tv commercials, garbage cans and back alleys. I even once saw a stray rabid dog, who came up and barked the guitar lead-in of 'Bodhisattva' to me. Just kidding. I'm not that crazy. Or am I?
Well, that's really it, Dr. Wu. I can't think of anything much else to add. As my psychiatrist, you can tell me if I need to be medicated or not. Steely Dan is such a part of me, that I tried to cut it away from my body. It won't ease up on the suction part of it's mouth. I believe that it's actually sucking all of my life's blood out of my body like a leech...drop by drop. My heart beats like my blood is infected and turning into molasses. There must be a cure.
Can you hear me, doctor? Are you with me, doctor?
(*'Can't Buy A Thrill' has always tasted to me like toothpaste. Look at the cover...you tell me.)
<CHORUS>
"Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more"
***NOW, I WOULD SAY THAT THE FICTIONAL SUBJECT OF THIS SONG WAS HANGING OUT AT HIS PARENT'S HOUSE IN CHAMPAIGN ILLINOIS, WHICH ALSO SERVED AS A PRACTICE SPACE FOR HIS BAND, WHICH WE SHALL CALL "THE WAYWARD SONS"...AND HE WAS READING A COPY OF THE BRITISH PUBLICATION 'NEW MUSIC EXPRESS', WHICH TOLD HIM OF A NEW LAND OF MUSIC MADE JUST FOR HIM, CALLED SEATTLE WASHINGTON, WHERE HE COULD EXPRESS HIS ALTERNATIVE SOUL. WHEN HE GOT THERE, EVERYTHING WOULD BE ALRIGHT, AND HE AND HIS BAND WERE SURE TO GET A RECORD DEAL AFTER ALL HIS TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS. THERE WOULD BE NO PAIN, SORROW, OR POVERTY...ONLY PARTIES AND FUN.***
"Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high"
***OK, SO WHEN THE BAND "THE WAYWARD SONS" CAME TO SEATTLE, IT WAS HARDER THAN THEY THOUGHT TO GET A RECORD DEAL, BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BANDS, SO MANY PLACES TO PLAY, AND NOTHING ELSE TO DO AT THE TIME. SO, THE SUBJECT ENDS UP NOT LIKING HIS JOB THROWING FISH AT THE PIKE PLACE MARKET, AND HE SOON DEVELOPS A SERIOUS HEROIN HABIT.***
"Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say..."
***THOUGH THE SUBJECT KNEW THAT HE COULD PLAY HIS INSTRUMENT AND SING THE LYRICS TO "THE WAYWARD SONS" COMPLETE REPERTOIRE EVEN WHILE HIGH, HE KNEW THAT HE WAS IN TROUBLE, AND PUTTING HIS WHOLE BAND'S CAREER IN JEOPARDY WITH THE MONKEY ON HIS BACK. YET, SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE, OR EVEN MORE SPIRITUAL FROM AFAR, KEPT BECKONING HIM AND GUIDING HIM, WHEN HE HEARD THE VOICES SAY...***
<REPEAT CHORUS (SEE THE INTRODUCTORY EXPLANATION)>
"Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know"
***SO, THE WAYWARD SONS AT LEAST HAD SOME FRIENDS HERE, AND SOMEWHAT OF A DRAW. THE ROCKET, THE LOCAL PUBLICATION AT THE TIME, WAS GAME TO GIVE THEM A LITTLE PRESS, AND LUCKILY, IT WAS ENOUGH TO GET THEM A GIG AT "THE EVENT OF THE SEASON", WHICH WAS BUMBERSHOOT AT THE SEATTLE CENTER, IN THE FLAG PAVILLION. UNFORTUNATELY, HE SAID SOME UN-POLITICALLY CORRECT THINGS IN-BETWEEN SONGS DURING THEIR SET. THE ROCKET'S REVIEW OF THE SHOW CLAIMED THAT THE LEAD SINGER OF "THE WAYWARD SONS" WAS A "VERY STUPID MAN". THE SUBJECT TRIED TO COVER HIS ACTIONS BY SAYING THAT WHAT HE SAID WAS TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT...BUT BY THAT TIME, IT DIDN'T MATTER, BECAUSE THERE WAS ALREADY ANOTHER BAND IN TEXAS CALLED "THE WAYWARD SONS" WHO WERE BETTER, HAD MORE FANS, AND WERE SIGNED TO A GOOD INDEPENDENT LABEL.***
"On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say-"
***"THE WAYWARD SONS" SOON COULD ONLY GET GIGS IN THE TOWN OF BREMERTON, ON BAINBRIDGE ISLAND IN THE MIDDLE OF PUGET SOUND. THEIR NEWFOUND MECCA SEATTLE HAD ALL BUT GIVEN UP ON THEM COMPLETELY. THE REST OF THE BAND MEMBERS TALKED OF LEAVING THEIR SERIOUSLY ADDICTED-TO-HEROIN LEAD SINGER BEHIND AND GOING BACK HOME TO GET REAL JOBS... BUT DECIDED TO KICK HIM OUT INSTEAD. THEY MOVED TO TACOMA, CHANGED THEIR NAME TO "THE SPLENDOR", AND STARTED PLAYING THE "VANS TOUR" SKATE ROCK FESTIVAL REGULARLY. THEY WERE EVENTUALLY SIGNED TO INTERSCOPE RECORDS. OUR SAD, DOWNTRODDEN SUBJECT TRIED A SOLO CAREER...AND EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WANTED TO KNOW, HE KEPT ON TRYING...AND TRYING...***
<REPEAT CHORUS>
"No!"
<GUITAR SOLO>
***AT THIS POINT, OUR SUBJECT HAD KICKED HEROIN, AND WAS A SPONSOR TO OTHER WASHED-UP ROCK AND ROLL HOPEFULS IN SEATTLE. HE HAD FOUND HIS TRUE MISSION. HE MARRIED HIS GIRLFRIEND, WHO HAD ALSO KICKED JUNK, AND THEY BECAME DRUG COUNSELORS AT THE SAME YOUTH CLINIC. SADLY, TRAGEDY STUCK, WHEN HE FOUND OUT THAT HE HAD CANCER. THROUGH MONTHS AND MONTHS OF CHEMO TREATMENTS, AND EVEN BENEFIT SHOWS PUT ON BY HIS EX-BANDMATES NOW IN "THE SPLENDOR", THE DOCTORS TOLD HIM THAT HE DID NOT HAVE LONG TO LIVE.***
"Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
The center lights around your vanity
But surely heaven waits for you"
***ON HIS DEATHBED, WITH HIS PREGNANT WIFE BY HIS SIDE, HE REMEMBERED HIS LIFE AND HOW MEANINGFUL IT REALLY WAS IN THE END. HE FELT THAT HE COULD GO INTO THE LIGHT WITH EASE, KNOWING THAT THE NEW SPAWN COULD CARRY ON HIS ORIGINAL DREAM AND MISSION OF SPREADING THE MESSAGE OF ROCK TO THE MASSES. HIS WIFE EXCLAIMED "I'LL SEE YOU IN HEAVEN", AS HE DRIFTED INTO THE LIGHT.*******
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)
***THE NEW "WAYWARD SON" STARTED LIFE THE RIGHT WAY, LEARNED OF HIS FATHER'S MISTAKES AND HIS LATER TRIUMPHS...AND IT IS SAID THAT NOW, AT AGE 10, HE IS A STUDENT AT THE SEATTLE BRANCH OF 'THE PAUL GREEN SCHOOL OF ROCK MUSIC'. WAY TO GO, JUNIOR!!!***
"Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more"
***NOW, I WOULD SAY THAT THE FICTIONAL SUBJECT OF THIS SONG WAS HANGING OUT AT HIS PARENT'S HOUSE IN CHAMPAIGN ILLINOIS, WHICH ALSO SERVED AS A PRACTICE SPACE FOR HIS BAND, WHICH WE SHALL CALL "THE WAYWARD SONS"...AND HE WAS READING A COPY OF THE BRITISH PUBLICATION 'NEW MUSIC EXPRESS', WHICH TOLD HIM OF A NEW LAND OF MUSIC MADE JUST FOR HIM, CALLED SEATTLE WASHINGTON, WHERE HE COULD EXPRESS HIS ALTERNATIVE SOUL. WHEN HE GOT THERE, EVERYTHING WOULD BE ALRIGHT, AND HE AND HIS BAND WERE SURE TO GET A RECORD DEAL AFTER ALL HIS TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS. THERE WOULD BE NO PAIN, SORROW, OR POVERTY...ONLY PARTIES AND FUN.***
"Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high"
***OK, SO WHEN THE BAND "THE WAYWARD SONS" CAME TO SEATTLE, IT WAS HARDER THAN THEY THOUGHT TO GET A RECORD DEAL, BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BANDS, SO MANY PLACES TO PLAY, AND NOTHING ELSE TO DO AT THE TIME. SO, THE SUBJECT ENDS UP NOT LIKING HIS JOB THROWING FISH AT THE PIKE PLACE MARKET, AND HE SOON DEVELOPS A SERIOUS HEROIN HABIT.***
"Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreaming
I can hear them say..."
***THOUGH THE SUBJECT KNEW THAT HE COULD PLAY HIS INSTRUMENT AND SING THE LYRICS TO "THE WAYWARD SONS" COMPLETE REPERTOIRE EVEN WHILE HIGH, HE KNEW THAT HE WAS IN TROUBLE, AND PUTTING HIS WHOLE BAND'S CAREER IN JEOPARDY WITH THE MONKEY ON HIS BACK. YET, SOMETHING DEEP INSIDE, OR EVEN MORE SPIRITUAL FROM AFAR, KEPT BECKONING HIM AND GUIDING HIM, WHEN HE HEARD THE VOICES SAY...***
<REPEAT CHORUS (SEE THE INTRODUCTORY EXPLANATION)>
"Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don't know"
***SO, THE WAYWARD SONS AT LEAST HAD SOME FRIENDS HERE, AND SOMEWHAT OF A DRAW. THE ROCKET, THE LOCAL PUBLICATION AT THE TIME, WAS GAME TO GIVE THEM A LITTLE PRESS, AND LUCKILY, IT WAS ENOUGH TO GET THEM A GIG AT "THE EVENT OF THE SEASON", WHICH WAS BUMBERSHOOT AT THE SEATTLE CENTER, IN THE FLAG PAVILLION. UNFORTUNATELY, HE SAID SOME UN-POLITICALLY CORRECT THINGS IN-BETWEEN SONGS DURING THEIR SET. THE ROCKET'S REVIEW OF THE SHOW CLAIMED THAT THE LEAD SINGER OF "THE WAYWARD SONS" WAS A "VERY STUPID MAN". THE SUBJECT TRIED TO COVER HIS ACTIONS BY SAYING THAT WHAT HE SAID WAS TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT...BUT BY THAT TIME, IT DIDN'T MATTER, BECAUSE THERE WAS ALREADY ANOTHER BAND IN TEXAS CALLED "THE WAYWARD SONS" WHO WERE BETTER, HAD MORE FANS, AND WERE SIGNED TO A GOOD INDEPENDENT LABEL.***
"On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune
But I hear the voices say-"
***"THE WAYWARD SONS" SOON COULD ONLY GET GIGS IN THE TOWN OF BREMERTON, ON BAINBRIDGE ISLAND IN THE MIDDLE OF PUGET SOUND. THEIR NEWFOUND MECCA SEATTLE HAD ALL BUT GIVEN UP ON THEM COMPLETELY. THE REST OF THE BAND MEMBERS TALKED OF LEAVING THEIR SERIOUSLY ADDICTED-TO-HEROIN LEAD SINGER BEHIND AND GOING BACK HOME TO GET REAL JOBS... BUT DECIDED TO KICK HIM OUT INSTEAD. THEY MOVED TO TACOMA, CHANGED THEIR NAME TO "THE SPLENDOR", AND STARTED PLAYING THE "VANS TOUR" SKATE ROCK FESTIVAL REGULARLY. THEY WERE EVENTUALLY SIGNED TO INTERSCOPE RECORDS. OUR SAD, DOWNTRODDEN SUBJECT TRIED A SOLO CAREER...AND EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WANTED TO KNOW, HE KEPT ON TRYING...AND TRYING...***
<REPEAT CHORUS>
"No!"
<GUITAR SOLO>
***AT THIS POINT, OUR SUBJECT HAD KICKED HEROIN, AND WAS A SPONSOR TO OTHER WASHED-UP ROCK AND ROLL HOPEFULS IN SEATTLE. HE HAD FOUND HIS TRUE MISSION. HE MARRIED HIS GIRLFRIEND, WHO HAD ALSO KICKED JUNK, AND THEY BECAME DRUG COUNSELORS AT THE SAME YOUTH CLINIC. SADLY, TRAGEDY STUCK, WHEN HE FOUND OUT THAT HE HAD CANCER. THROUGH MONTHS AND MONTHS OF CHEMO TREATMENTS, AND EVEN BENEFIT SHOWS PUT ON BY HIS EX-BANDMATES NOW IN "THE SPLENDOR", THE DOCTORS TOLD HIM THAT HE DID NOT HAVE LONG TO LIVE.***
"Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
The center lights around your vanity
But surely heaven waits for you"
***ON HIS DEATHBED, WITH HIS PREGNANT WIFE BY HIS SIDE, HE REMEMBERED HIS LIFE AND HOW MEANINGFUL IT REALLY WAS IN THE END. HE FELT THAT HE COULD GO INTO THE LIGHT WITH EASE, KNOWING THAT THE NEW SPAWN COULD CARRY ON HIS ORIGINAL DREAM AND MISSION OF SPREADING THE MESSAGE OF ROCK TO THE MASSES. HIS WIFE EXCLAIMED "I'LL SEE YOU IN HEAVEN", AS HE DRIFTED INTO THE LIGHT.*******
Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry (don't you cry no more)
***THE NEW "WAYWARD SON" STARTED LIFE THE RIGHT WAY, LEARNED OF HIS FATHER'S MISTAKES AND HIS LATER TRIUMPHS...AND IT IS SAID THAT NOW, AT AGE 10, HE IS A STUDENT AT THE SEATTLE BRANCH OF 'THE PAUL GREEN SCHOOL OF ROCK MUSIC'. WAY TO GO, JUNIOR!!!***
What a fucking crazy dream I had last night.
Does anybody remember those old commercials from the 70s that would have crazy people doing
really weird stuff, or having life issues, or standing in line to be given a name or title to life from
some huge analog punch-card cosmic vacuum-tube computer...and some creepy narrator would come
on with some analogy, and a question for your life...and then the whole scene would freeze-frame,
and a white logo with "United Methodist Unified Unitarian Church" or something stupid like that
would pop up onto the screen? These sort of commercials used to run all throughout
the weekday morning cartoon show that my sister and I used to watch on KVOS TV Channel
12 in Bellingham Washington. I remember the two hour show being called "Frisky Frolics", which
would have Bugs Bunny, Popeye, and Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoons on, alternating with
commercials for strange Canadian food products, toy commercials, and these fucking weird PSAs
that used to creep me out as a young impressionable child. We used to get this station in Mount
Vernon Washington, where our grandparents lived.
Anyways, my dream started, as I got off a plane with my sister Britt, my Aunt Dodie, and my
cousin Acacia. We were supposed to head home to see family, when some guy who looked
like a cross between Richie Cunnigham and Charlie Rich stopped us on the street, did one of those
analogies with a question at the end of his speech...something like, "Of all the towns and streets
you could be walking down at this moment...is this really where you belong???" I said outloud, "Oh I
get it now...this is where you freeze, and the white logo from The Unified Unitarians of Sanctified
Religion of Greater America or whatever comes up on the screen, right?". He ignored me, and
repeated his speech, and then froze...but no logo came up.
I said, "Where's the fucking logo, Richie?".
He then widened his eyes, and SCREECHED at me like a banshee, as a bunch of midgets
came and dragged my family into an old dirty storefront. Soon, we were stuck in this line, where
people were being ushered past some red filthy curtains.
When we got past the curtains, we arrived inside some kind of sick, twisted complex that seemed
like a shopping mall and a carnival rolled up into one. My Aunt Dodie and cousin Acacia immediately
said that they wanted to get the hell out of there and went to find an exit. Britt and I decided that
this was so crazy, that we might as well look around. Deformed people, all of different races and
breeds, some with limbs missing, kept telling us to "Get the fuck out of here while you can!!!".
There were little exhibits, games to play like "Guess Your Weight", and strange electronic gadgets,
not unlike some old arcade from yesteryear down at the pier.
Pretty soon, Britt and I started getting freaked out, and went looking for the exits. The only problem
was that everytime I tried to find a way out, it would seem like the twisted ramps would change
directions, or the old paths would disappear, and were replaced by new ones completely. Outside,
the ramps were just as confusing, and grotesque human beings were popping up, trying to grab
us, as chewed up hog dog/mustard/ketchup bits were dripping from their lips, obviously from the
concession stand somewhere. All the creatures were sitting outside grunting and groaning, eating
these hot dogs, which seemed like the best thing that they had ever had. I started to go back inside,
when I realized that I had lost Britt, and I was alone.
Back inside, the whole set-up was different, and I did not recognize any of the old ramps, or how to
get anywhere...except now, an annoucement that the place was about to close kept repeating. I
tried to get the attention of some of these creatures, even try to grab their hand, but when I did, they
would screech at me, or bite me really hard and go "MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA
MAA!!!". I grabbed onto this lady's hand...she looked like Nell Carter from "Gimme A Break". As I
grabbed her, she decayed like the ghost from The Shining, and started screaming "RRAHHH...
RRAAHH...RRAAHH!!!", and wouldn't talk to me.
So I started getting really scared, and kept trying to find an exit, and walking on these twisted
ramps that were now changing so rapidly, that when I looked behind me, they were changing as
I walked along the path. Soon, as Iooked forward, they were bending and twisting before my very
eyes. It was like I was walking on a non-existing path of bending turns and steel rails that clanked
and formed far-out fucked-up ways to go. I was trapped in eternity forever.
Luckily, I found an escalator and proceeded to go up another floor. There, I found my old boss from
Accoutrements, Ferol Krebs, who told me to "Get out while you can!!!". Soon, I found an exit, and
ran out into the street, and realized that I was in some neighborhood in San Francisco. Everything
was frozen on freeze-frame, like the end of those commercials, except that everyone was laying on
the streets dead, cut up, bloodied, hacked, whatever. It was dead quiet, and I was running
through the city, thoroughly freaking the fuck out!
I finally got to where/what I thought was my family home, which was some old apartment with a
single bed near the kitchen, which only had an old radio playing mid-70s Top 40 songs, which, if
you lived during this time and remember, was really kind of bad (not saying that the rest of time has
proven otherwise...), and if I can recall, it was playing "Skyhigh" by Jigsaw. There was nobody home.
Then, I tried to open the front door that I walked into at first. It was stuck. I tried to find a way out the
one window, but it was stuck too. I also could not break the glass, as it was hard as steel, and
painted black. "Skyhigh" by Jigsaw kept on starting over after it was done playing, with the radio
announcer saying, "And now on KJR, Jigsaw with "Skyhigh"!!!", and I finally realized that I would be
stuck for eternity in this place, alone, scared and frightened, with this shitty song playing over and
over...kind of like my mind in real life...constantly replaying old tapes of old memories that will
never ever go away, even if I tried to brainwash myself into thinking that I was some other guy with
a different life.
Then I woke up. It is now 5:19 am. I will not be able to get back to sleep, and I may never go back
to sleep again. Sometimes I hate my mind...but I don't mind...at least most of the time. I've blown it
all skyhigh. Of all the minds I could have at this moment, is this where I really belong?
Does anybody remember those old commercials from the 70s that would have crazy people doing
really weird stuff, or having life issues, or standing in line to be given a name or title to life from
some huge analog punch-card cosmic vacuum-tube computer...and some creepy narrator would come
on with some analogy, and a question for your life...and then the whole scene would freeze-frame,
and a white logo with "United Methodist Unified Unitarian Church" or something stupid like that
would pop up onto the screen? These sort of commercials used to run all throughout
the weekday morning cartoon show that my sister and I used to watch on KVOS TV Channel
12 in Bellingham Washington. I remember the two hour show being called "Frisky Frolics", which
would have Bugs Bunny, Popeye, and Casper the Friendly Ghost cartoons on, alternating with
commercials for strange Canadian food products, toy commercials, and these fucking weird PSAs
that used to creep me out as a young impressionable child. We used to get this station in Mount
Vernon Washington, where our grandparents lived.
Anyways, my dream started, as I got off a plane with my sister Britt, my Aunt Dodie, and my
cousin Acacia. We were supposed to head home to see family, when some guy who looked
like a cross between Richie Cunnigham and Charlie Rich stopped us on the street, did one of those
analogies with a question at the end of his speech...something like, "Of all the towns and streets
you could be walking down at this moment...is this really where you belong???" I said outloud, "Oh I
get it now...this is where you freeze, and the white logo from The Unified Unitarians of Sanctified
Religion of Greater America or whatever comes up on the screen, right?". He ignored me, and
repeated his speech, and then froze...but no logo came up.
I said, "Where's the fucking logo, Richie?".
He then widened his eyes, and SCREECHED at me like a banshee, as a bunch of midgets
came and dragged my family into an old dirty storefront. Soon, we were stuck in this line, where
people were being ushered past some red filthy curtains.
When we got past the curtains, we arrived inside some kind of sick, twisted complex that seemed
like a shopping mall and a carnival rolled up into one. My Aunt Dodie and cousin Acacia immediately
said that they wanted to get the hell out of there and went to find an exit. Britt and I decided that
this was so crazy, that we might as well look around. Deformed people, all of different races and
breeds, some with limbs missing, kept telling us to "Get the fuck out of here while you can!!!".
There were little exhibits, games to play like "Guess Your Weight", and strange electronic gadgets,
not unlike some old arcade from yesteryear down at the pier.
Pretty soon, Britt and I started getting freaked out, and went looking for the exits. The only problem
was that everytime I tried to find a way out, it would seem like the twisted ramps would change
directions, or the old paths would disappear, and were replaced by new ones completely. Outside,
the ramps were just as confusing, and grotesque human beings were popping up, trying to grab
us, as chewed up hog dog/mustard/ketchup bits were dripping from their lips, obviously from the
concession stand somewhere. All the creatures were sitting outside grunting and groaning, eating
these hot dogs, which seemed like the best thing that they had ever had. I started to go back inside,
when I realized that I had lost Britt, and I was alone.
Back inside, the whole set-up was different, and I did not recognize any of the old ramps, or how to
get anywhere...except now, an annoucement that the place was about to close kept repeating. I
tried to get the attention of some of these creatures, even try to grab their hand, but when I did, they
would screech at me, or bite me really hard and go "MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA MAA
MAA!!!". I grabbed onto this lady's hand...she looked like Nell Carter from "Gimme A Break". As I
grabbed her, she decayed like the ghost from The Shining, and started screaming "RRAHHH...
RRAAHH...RRAAHH!!!", and wouldn't talk to me.
So I started getting really scared, and kept trying to find an exit, and walking on these twisted
ramps that were now changing so rapidly, that when I looked behind me, they were changing as
I walked along the path. Soon, as Iooked forward, they were bending and twisting before my very
eyes. It was like I was walking on a non-existing path of bending turns and steel rails that clanked
and formed far-out fucked-up ways to go. I was trapped in eternity forever.
Luckily, I found an escalator and proceeded to go up another floor. There, I found my old boss from
Accoutrements, Ferol Krebs, who told me to "Get out while you can!!!". Soon, I found an exit, and
ran out into the street, and realized that I was in some neighborhood in San Francisco. Everything
was frozen on freeze-frame, like the end of those commercials, except that everyone was laying on
the streets dead, cut up, bloodied, hacked, whatever. It was dead quiet, and I was running
through the city, thoroughly freaking the fuck out!
I finally got to where/what I thought was my family home, which was some old apartment with a
single bed near the kitchen, which only had an old radio playing mid-70s Top 40 songs, which, if
you lived during this time and remember, was really kind of bad (not saying that the rest of time has
proven otherwise...), and if I can recall, it was playing "Skyhigh" by Jigsaw. There was nobody home.
Then, I tried to open the front door that I walked into at first. It was stuck. I tried to find a way out the
one window, but it was stuck too. I also could not break the glass, as it was hard as steel, and
painted black. "Skyhigh" by Jigsaw kept on starting over after it was done playing, with the radio
announcer saying, "And now on KJR, Jigsaw with "Skyhigh"!!!", and I finally realized that I would be
stuck for eternity in this place, alone, scared and frightened, with this shitty song playing over and
over...kind of like my mind in real life...constantly replaying old tapes of old memories that will
never ever go away, even if I tried to brainwash myself into thinking that I was some other guy with
a different life.
Then I woke up. It is now 5:19 am. I will not be able to get back to sleep, and I may never go back
to sleep again. Sometimes I hate my mind...but I don't mind...at least most of the time. I've blown it
all skyhigh. Of all the minds I could have at this moment, is this where I really belong?