Week 17 has rolled around and that means it's time for our second thematic week. Per secret agreement with the esteemed Gary Beatrice the theme this week is: Guilty Pleasures. This might be bands or just particular songs, but we all have those songs that we just love even they we know that we shouldn't - and we hope our musically savvy friends don't discover our terrible secret. Oh, and it seems that this week has tremendous potential to inspire abuse, recrimination and, hopefully, retribution.
Our next thematic effort will be Week 25, the theme of which has already been decided as part of secret high levels discussions with Jack Schultz.
Eagles, Already Gone
OK, I don't think I can tell you how much I hate the Eagles I can't begin to understand why they were ever popular, and Hotel California has to make the short list of any discussion of Most Over-rated Album of All Time. What's more, how can a band that has not produced even one meaningful song be so smug and self-important? Oh, and several of the members have spun off their own solo careers, each one of which is as vapid and annoying as that of the total band. In short, I just think they are polymorphously awful. That said, I like Already Gone, and I feel dirty just admitting it. I went through a big Jackson Browne stage and he did co-write Take It Easy, so maybe I somehow unconsciously cut them some slack. Or they did open for Neil Young one time and they played some apparently legendary forty minute version of Down By the River together once, so, again, maybe I'm giving them some unconscious credit. Or maybe, as my friends will testify, I'm always half-way out the door at any time. Or maybe I just like the way it sounds. Doubtless (well, maybe not doubtless) there will be worse songs mentioned this week, but I can't get over the disconnect between how much I like the song and how much I abhor the band. I feel that my life is a lie.
Our next thematic effort will be Week 25, the theme of which has already been decided as part of secret high levels discussions with Jack Schultz.
Dave Mills
Poison, Every Rose Has Its Thorn
For
my guilty pleasure selection, I'm really choosing an entire genre. This
particular track is simply representative of the group as a whole -- the
Hair Band Power/Acoustic Ballad genre. I could have just as easily chosen
tracks by Skid Row, Warrant, Queensryche ("Silent Lucidity" baby!),
Tesla, Guns N' Roses, Extreme, ...you get the idea. (Actually, here's a pretty
complete list, for those who wish to wallow in the glory of it all: http://realityspeaks.
It's
not just the obvious bad taste (and bad judgment) that makes this so
delightful. It's the fact that, insofar as someone made the decision to ink
this on himself permanently, there's apparently some genuine meaning to this
for that individual. And yet, the image itself is so cliché. And that's
the crux of the genre of hair band power ballads. Each one represents a sincere
attempt at profundity and authenticity, and yet, as a rule, they rely heavily
on stock phrases and (sometimes confusing/ed) metaphors, along with predictably
similar stylistic elements across the genre. Picture MTV Unplugged sessions --
earnest long-haired rockers perched on stools, hunched over acoustic guitars,
pouring out their souls. And it turns out that those souls all look and sound
pretty much the same each time.
In
Poison's ballad, the chorus, "every rose has its thorn, just like every
night has its dawn." (I'm a bit thrown by the parallelism of rose/night,
thorn/dawn, but perhaps this just means I'm not really a creature of the night
the way Bret Michaels is.) Also in the chorus, "every cowboy sings a sad,
sad song." As universal truths go, I'm not too sure about this one.
Lyrically, it's kind of a mess. Musically, it is largely interchangeable with
dozens of other tracks.
But
here's the thing. Despite all the obvious flaws with the genre, I love it. It
helps that I was in high school in the mid-80s (Bon Jovi's Slippery
When Wet came out my
junior year), so these songs have a major nostalgia factor for me. But
these are also great sing-along songs -- they were made for inebriated
belting out in karaoke bars, for singing at the top of your lungs with the
windows down in the car, and, of course, for singing along with a stadium-sized
crowd. All good stuff, if you ask me.
Dave Wallace
Lionel
Ritchie, All Night Long
Personally,
I reject the idea of guilty pleasures. If I like a song, it's because I
think that it's good and, therefore, I don't feel guilty about liking it.
Having said that, the closest thing to a guilty pleasure that I could find on
the list that I'm working through is this tasty gem from Lionel Ritchie.
Ritchie spent most of the '80s making disposable MOR crap, and I was shocked
when I heard that he'd made something as great as this song. Ritchie sets
forth his invitation to an all night party in the opening lines of the song:
"Well, my friends, the time has come/To raise the roof and have some
fun/Throw away the work to be done/Let the music play on." There are
so many things that I love about this song: the Caribbean rhythms
underlying the song, the call and response in the chorus, the initial horn
break, the African chant after "Come join our party/See how we play",
the killer horn riff that follows "Feel Good/Feel Good!" Pop
music at its best. It also may be the most 1980ish music video ever made;
it belongs in a time capsule.
Gary Beatrice
Alicia Keys, No One
Her first couple disks were somewhat soulful. She is incredibly attractive. Bob Dylan references her in a recent song.
OK, I'm just making excuses. I have no logical explanation for it but I love Alicia Keys.
And it isn't just the somewhat creative, Prince-covering Alicia Keys when she first came to prominence. I mean, when she went pure pop, diva mode with As I Am, I went right with her, perhaps deeper than ever. I can recall no time in my past when I fell so hard for somebody whose claim to fame is that she makes pleasant pop, but there you have it.
There was a time when I had dozens of artists whose disks I bought immediately, without regards to reviews or advance notice. Today I am an old conservative cheap fart, and I only act rashly with regards to acts like Lucinda Williams, Beck, My Morning Jacket, Wilco, Jack White, Gillian Welch, and, of course, Alicia Keys.
First off, I'd like to point out that this is not a terrible song. The guitar has some good licks, the piano is actually quite nice, and the vocals, while not really adding anything, don't detract either (see the inevitable Rush post). The lyrics are trite, but they make sense, and they resonate a bit with everyone. This song is perfectly representative of it's era. It is solidly mediocre. So why am I embarrassed by liking it?
I got off the Rush bus after Subdivisions; their stuff just isn’t as good now as those late 70s and early 80’s songs. But they’re still a great example of ambitious players pushing themselves and the music industry to not always be deliberately stupid/vapid. In the documentary above you’ll learn (from Gene Simmons!) that instead of doing drugs and groupies on tour, Rush were reading books in the hotel. I’m sad they’ve retired from touring and was glad to see them several years ago, albeit at a venue that has two zip codes, which necessitated watching the gigantic screens instead.
That’s right, people….
Rip off the roof and stay in bed
For me, true guilty pleasures are always irresistibly
physical. So I knew as soon as this theme was announced, I’d be picking something that anyone in their right mind would want to dance to. And considering the general alt-country sensibilities of the discography group, my particular genre choice here seems all the better.
I think I was 14 years old when I first heard this song,
and I have absolutely loved it ever since—the powerful voices, the funky rhythms, the campy lyrics, and that incredible video. At 35 years-worth so far, this guilty pleasure has some serious staying power. While I could make a pretty smart case about why I shouldn’t feel at all guilty about it, based on history, ground-breaking attitudes, female empowerment, political symbolism, gay activism, and the like, the truth is that I have always fundamentally loved this song for one and only one reason—no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, when I hear it, I can’t help but throw caution to the wind, get up on my feet, and dance like I’ve never danced before.
Fountains of Wayne, Halley's Waitress
As further evidence of FOW's comfort in the Pop world, their lead singer, Chris Collingwood, is fronting the Monkees 50th anniversary tour.
Her first couple disks were somewhat soulful. She is incredibly attractive. Bob Dylan references her in a recent song.
OK, I'm just making excuses. I have no logical explanation for it but I love Alicia Keys.
And it isn't just the somewhat creative, Prince-covering Alicia Keys when she first came to prominence. I mean, when she went pure pop, diva mode with As I Am, I went right with her, perhaps deeper than ever. I can recall no time in my past when I fell so hard for somebody whose claim to fame is that she makes pleasant pop, but there you have it.
There was a time when I had dozens of artists whose disks I bought immediately, without regards to reviews or advance notice. Today I am an old conservative cheap fart, and I only act rashly with regards to acts like Lucinda Williams, Beck, My Morning Jacket, Wilco, Jack White, Gillian Welch, and, of course, Alicia Keys.
Miranda Tavares
REO Speedwagon, Roll with the Changes
First off, I'd like to point out that this is not a terrible song. The guitar has some good licks, the piano is actually quite nice, and the vocals, while not really adding anything, don't detract either (see the inevitable Rush post). The lyrics are trite, but they make sense, and they resonate a bit with everyone. This song is perfectly representative of it's era. It is solidly mediocre. So why am I embarrassed by liking it?
Because I looooove it. I
love it so much I would marry it (still waiting for SCOTUS to weigh in on that
one). I play it frequently, and, outwardly, in deference to my poor
husband, I merely nod along. Inwardly, though, I am doing some quality air
guitar, absolutely crushing the air piano, just full
on jamming out with my clam out. In my sick and twisted imagination, my vocals
are far more passionate than Kevin Cronin's, and... perhaps I am a bit teary,
because I love the trite lyrics the most. I find them powerful. Yes they are
simple. Yes they are cliched. But they need to be said. If you are not happy
with your life, yourself, you situation, change something. People can help you,
but only if you want to be helped. In the song it's about choosing one romantic
partner over another, but life is full of choices, and this song is song is an
excellent soundtrack for all of them. No one should have such strong
feelings for such a generic piece of music. I feel like there should be a support
group for me; "Hi my name is Miranda, and Roll with the Changes is my
fight song."
Nate Bell
LL Cool J,
Momma said Knock you out
Don't
look for wisdom, enlightenment, or an explanation of my character in this post.
I
have no clear idea why I like this song. I enjoy a good rap/hip hop song,
but this is not one of those. When this song first came out my friends
and I mocked it mercilessly...but we kept playing it. I don't understand
at all why it has stuck with me for so long. I don't have any specific or
warm memories of the time, or a golden feeling about the situation when I first
heard it. It just sits there taking up space in my limited brain
capacity.
It tries very hard to be a gangsta rap song, but the lyrics are nonsensical,
not very clever, and even the aggression seems forced. I mean, the
listener can barely even figure out what LL is referencing at most points in
the song, other than he is angry(?) about his own comeback?
This
song is the Naugahyde version of a well-crafted gangsta rap song.
But
I continue to enjoy it, and play it randomly. This song for me is an ear
worm that has taken hold and become a full parasitic infection.
Bob Craigmile
Rush, The Trees/Jacob’sLadder. Exit, Stage Left
This album was my initiation to Rush, Canada’s biggest export
besides maple syrup. In any case, there is a corny exuberance to some of
these songs. Take “The Trees”, with its secret Ayn Randian code:
And the trees are all kept equal
By hatchet,
Axe,
And saw
Take that Bernie! Maples just need to quit complaining about
inequality and grow bigger like the oaks, see? Genetics be damned!
Being Canadian, Rush later had to sort of move away from their Russiancharmstress.
The song “Jacob’s Ladder” is about a thunderstorm. Yes, you read
that correctly. It’s got some dopey lyrics too that sound like high
school poetry, but there is a HEAVY kickass jam after the lyrical
embarrassment.
I could have perhaps added Xanadu but it at least alludes to real
literature . All this, and songs about fantastical societies
controlled by interplanetary priests insured that Rush would forever be the
kings of nerd rock. I love them still. You owe it to yourself to
view the wonderful documentary about them from a few years ago.
I got off the Rush bus after Subdivisions; their stuff just isn’t as good now as those late 70s and early 80’s songs. But they’re still a great example of ambitious players pushing themselves and the music industry to not always be deliberately stupid/vapid. In the documentary above you’ll learn (from Gene Simmons!) that instead of doing drugs and groupies on tour, Rush were reading books in the hotel. I’m sad they’ve retired from touring and was glad to see them several years ago, albeit at a venue that has two zip codes, which necessitated watching the gigantic screens instead.
Cyndi Brandenburg
The Weathergirls, It’s Raining Men
That’s right, people….
I feel stormy weather, moving in about to begin
Hear the thunder, don’t you lose your headRip off the roof and stay in bed
For me, true guilty pleasures are always irresistibly
physical. So I knew as soon as this theme was announced, I’d be picking something that anyone in their right mind would want to dance to. And considering the general alt-country sensibilities of the discography group, my particular genre choice here seems all the better.
I think I was 14 years old when I first heard this song,
and I have absolutely loved it ever since—the powerful voices, the funky rhythms, the campy lyrics, and that incredible video. At 35 years-worth so far, this guilty pleasure has some serious staying power. While I could make a pretty smart case about why I shouldn’t feel at all guilty about it, based on history, ground-breaking attitudes, female empowerment, political symbolism, gay activism, and the like, the truth is that I have always fundamentally loved this song for one and only one reason—no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, when I hear it, I can’t help but throw caution to the wind, get up on my feet, and dance like I’ve never danced before.
Jack Schultz
Fountains of Wayne, Halley's Waitress
My guilty pleasure of the musical realm is the POWER Pop
band, Fountains of Wayne. The album Welcome Interstate Managers is pretty
consistently solid through 16 tracks. For me, it has an extremely high
rating on the “Why is that song stuck in my head?” scale that we are all
familiar with. While Stacey’s Mom was their biggest hit, I don’t believe
it is significantly better than many of their other offerings. I submit
to you the tongue-in-cheek ballad, Halley’s Waitress. I think we’ve all
felt the sentiments of abandonment explored in this not-so-epic tune.
Hey, the music is shallow, but catchy. There is a lot of humor in the lyrics
throughout the album. Their 2007 release, Traffic and Weather, is pretty
good too. By God, I like it.
As further evidence of FOW's comfort in the Pop world, their lead singer, Chris Collingwood, is fronting the Monkees 50th anniversary tour.
Dave Kelley
Michael Martin Murphey, Wildfire
There are so many different directions one can take with
selecting a guilty pleasure. I have given this way too much thought.
I considered Tom Sawyer by Rush but decided that they are
actually a good band albeit with a lead singer whose voice makes me want to run
amok with an axe. Then I contemplated songs like "Dixie" or
"My Old Kentucky Home" which are either associated with awful causes
or have blatantly racist lyrics. However, they are still good
songs. If you can block thoughts of slavery or lyrics about
"darkies" out of your mind for a moment, these are legitimately
excellent songs.
Finally I turned to my sometimes embarrassing affection for
soft rock from the early and mid-seventies. Now some of that music is
actually very good. Early Elton John, Todd Rundgren, and Jackson Browne
are in no way guilty pleasures. Other songs I embarrassingly enjoyed as a
child: "The Night Chicago Died", "Billy Don't Be a
Hero", and "Please Come to Boston" now make me as nauseous as
drinking raw eggs with a syrup of ipecac chaser while listening to Donald Trump
speak.
Then I thought of the tune I eventually chose.
"Wildfire" by the unfortunately named Michael Martin Murphey. I
have talked about liking artists who go all in with their lyrics. It is
only fair, right, and just that I commit 100% to shame, embarrassment, and
degradation with my choice. Let the self-loathing begin.
I rarely hear this song and will swear on the souls of my
puppies that I do not own a copy or have it on Spotify or any other
playlists. I must admit though that when I do hear it on the radio or in
a soundtrack, I still like this pathetically inane fucking horrible excuse for
a song. Yes, it is a song about a magical horse and a dead woman who
was the singer's lover.
"There's been a hoot owl howlin' at my window now
For six nights in a row
She's coming for me I know
And on Wildfire, we're both gonna go
On Wildfire we'll ride
we're gonna leave sodbustin' behind
get these hard times right on out of our minds
riding Wildfire."
God, the shame spiral that typing those lyrics is
causing. Please forgive me. The attached live performance is even
worse. I have always thought that when I die I would like a proper wake
with much drinking and kickass music. Anyone who plays this at my wake
will suffer a fate worse than death. Defiling an ancient Indian burial
ground would be nothing in comparison.
Gary Scudder
Eagles, Already Gone
OK, I don't think I can tell you how much I hate the Eagles I can't begin to understand why they were ever popular, and Hotel California has to make the short list of any discussion of Most Over-rated Album of All Time. What's more, how can a band that has not produced even one meaningful song be so smug and self-important? Oh, and several of the members have spun off their own solo careers, each one of which is as vapid and annoying as that of the total band. In short, I just think they are polymorphously awful. That said, I like Already Gone, and I feel dirty just admitting it. I went through a big Jackson Browne stage and he did co-write Take It Easy, so maybe I somehow unconsciously cut them some slack. Or they did open for Neil Young one time and they played some apparently legendary forty minute version of Down By the River together once, so, again, maybe I'm giving them some unconscious credit. Or maybe, as my friends will testify, I'm always half-way out the door at any time. Or maybe I just like the way it sounds. Doubtless (well, maybe not doubtless) there will be worse songs mentioned this week, but I can't get over the disconnect between how much I like the song and how much I abhor the band. I feel that my life is a lie.
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