It’s one more random than 10!
After four-and-a-half years of being Branimaled (Branimauled?), my original Rock Band drums finally broke. One of the pads cracked, and that prompted this discussion between The Lovely Becky and myself:
Me: My Rock Band drums broke.
TLB: (Laughing) You just bought a new drum pedal.
Me: I know, but now the kit actually cracked. Here, look.
TLB: (Notices significant crack) You must really pound the crap out of those drums.
Me: Yeah, but I’ve pounded them for more than four years. I’m surprised this didn’t happen sooner.
TLB: Well, my vagina’s been pounded for longer and that hasn’t broken.
Me: Actually, if you added up the amount of Rock Band minutes versus the actual amount of time we’ve engaged in intercourse, Rock Band might come out on top. Like the other night when you and Libby were gone, I played for two hours.
TLB: (sighs longingly) Two hours….
Yes, being married to me is the gift that keeps on giving. Tunes….
1) “The Once Over Twice,” X. That’s what she said! No, really, that’s what she said in the chorus.
2) “Go-Go Boots,” Drive-By Truckers. I wasn’t sure if anyone under 30 would know what the hell a go-go was, let alone that there were boots specifically for visiting one, but Wikipedia tells me (insert grain of salt) that there is a retro revival of go-go music. Who knew? Unrelated: no matter how many times I read Wikipedia, I will never, ever answer one of their appeals for money. I feel like I should say I’m going to give them $100, and then mail them $100 from the Monopoly bank. That would reflect the value of Wikipedia’s facts.
3) “Stove by a Whale,” Ted Leo & Pharmacists. I loves me some Ted Leo, but much like Moby Dick, this needs more stoving and less whaling (wailing?). I got a fever, and the only cure, is more Ahab!
4) “Old Man (Live),” Neil Young. This is from Live at Massey Hall and features a double-whammy of an intro: Neil Young saying “this is a new song” (imagine being their when a classic song is still in its infancy), and Neil Young actually cracking jokes. I’m sure Neil Young cracks jokes all the time, but I never picture him actually cracking jokes. It’s like Eddie Vedder speaking clearly—yeah, maybe it happens when he tells a waiter he’ll have the fish or when he has to say “Yes” into the phone when he says he wants to speak to a customer-service representative, but it’s hard to imagine.
5) “Highway 61 Revisited,” Bob Dylan. “I don’t always use a whistle in my songs, but when I do, I prefer the silliest whistle in rock history. Stay rocking, my friends.” Of course, I can't find the studio version on YT, but seriously, it is a very silly whistle.
6) “Art of Almost,” Wilco. The Lovely Becky and I are going to see them at a minor league baseball stadium next month. It’s general admission, and the last time I went to a GA stadium show, it was to see Soundgarden/Faith No More/Queensryche/Metallica. As you have probably inferred, that was not recently. That was a show where my buddy Moe and I tried to get close to the stage during the slow part of Faith No More’s “Zombie Eaters,” only to get caught in the mosh when the fast part kicked in. We looked up and saw this huge guy with blood running down his face, as if he had been bitten in the forehead by a zombie eater. We high-tailed it out of there in the most unrock-and-roll fashion possible, although I managed to contain my high-pitched screech of fear that I would be mentioned in an article, “Dashing college student trampled to death during concert and consumed by ravenous crowd” to my inner monologue. Anyway, I suspect the Wilco show will be more tame, although we will be in Chicago’s notoriously suburban western suburbs.
7) “Punch Me Harder,” Superchunk. The conclusion of the NBA season last night means that I got to remove my nut-punch of a Facebook profile picture. I actually had my account open as the seconds ticked down and swapped it out for a picture of this beer bottle. Because after you’ve been pictured wearing a pink-and-white NBA jersey that’s 13 sizes too small for a month, you might be tempted to overcompensate slightly when you replace that photo.
8) “Headknocker,” Foreigner. My brother Tickle informed me that Foreigner—which is now just Mick Jones and a bunch of musical Hessians—will be playing the casino near his house in central Iowa. That’s a show where you will see every kind of denim except skinny jeans.
9) “Cassandra Gemini II,” The Mars Volta. I have no idea what the fuck is going on here. The singer and the guitarist start out shouting at me like Stephen A. Smith trying to tell me something about LeBron James. JESUS H. CHRIST, STOP YELLING, I’M JUST WATCHING THE SCORE TICKER. Then the whole back end of this song turns into some time of laserium seizure that thankfully gets a spoon shoved in its mouth. For as much as I love Rush and especially the fruitiest parts of Rush, I actually don’t like that much progressive music. I tend to have the same reaction I do to Christmas fruitcake: this would be great if it wasn’t for all the goddamned fruit.
10) “To Be Over,” Yes. Oh holy hell. I love the The Yes Album-Fragile-Close to the Edge stretch. Three incredible fucking albums, and I will use my pan flute as a shiv to fight anyone who argues with me. But this…ay carumba. There’s the synth that sounds like a guy rubbing the lips of glasses filled with water (this being 1974, maybe it actually was a guy rubbing the lips of glasses filled with water). Then the singing starts and I feel like I’m riding in the world’s longest elevator to go have a cigar with someone, right after he’s done meeting with Pink Floyd. Something resembling rock guitar shows up briefly, realizes this is not at all his scene, and starts to exit, only to run into and proceed to have an awkward exchange with a pipe organ and an inebriated guy rubbing glasses of water. And then ten minutes later…my goodness, is that the time? I really must be going, I’ve got a meeting with Trevor Rabin at 90:125.
11) “Do You Wanna Hit It?” The Donnas. Some girls finally crash the helmet party, although they have bigger balls than some of the other dudes here (and maybe the Rock Band-loving nerdlinger typing this). I’m also not sure if the question about hitting it is rhetorical, but I’m going to answer no just in case, what with my blood pressure and commitment to monogamy.
Bonus: “I’m Sorry I Love You,” The Magnetic Fields. I know that TLB is not sorry she loves me. However, during the past four years, when she would walk into a room filled with the furious clacka-clacka-clacka of a rhythm-challenged grown man hitting four plastic pads with a set of drum sticks, trying desperately to reach the end of a Who song he’d been trying to beat for two months before the fictional crowd boos him off the stage, just as said man does reach the end successfully and lets out a completely unironic fist pump and war cry of “KEITH FREAKING MOON, BABY!”, I have felt sorry for her that she loves me so much. Although she would just chuckle and let me move on (futilely) to “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” Thanks, baby!
Have a great weekend.