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| Bloozehound |
quote:
Nasty Habits wrote:
I thought that "School of Rock" was pretty rock and roll, and it's a shame that it couldn't have the Rolling Stones in it.
edited by Nasty Habits]
lol
quote:
beer wrote:
didn't you rogues read the rule book? sheesh.
wat's a book ?
i dunno i aint seen mush clas on account ol' Huck n' Jims insistance
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| Nasty Habits |
quote:
beer wrote:
debating the definition of "Rock" versus "Rock And Roll", is very Un-Rock And Roll.
didn't you rogues read the rule book? sheesh.
Seacrest Out.
You're my American Idol!
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| beer |
quote:
Nasty Habits wrote:
You're my American Idol!
and you are the wind beneath my wings! |
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| Sir Stonesalot |
Hey Motels.
My parents are both teachers. They SHOVED homework and studying down my throat. By the time I was 13 and discovered girls and The Clash, I'd had ENOUGH of that shit.
I went from straight A's to straight C's...on purpose(pride wouldn't let me do worse.). My parents would ground me for entire marking periods, and I'd throw my English book into the Juniata River.
They would threaten me with "military school", and I'd run off and live in a tent out in the piney woods(and we had lots of piney woods.).
We went to family councelling. The shrink told my parents that they were smothering me. We stopped going to councelling because the shrink was obviously a quack....or so my parents said.
So then my Dad chased me through the yard with a chainsaw after I dropped a 100+ lb tree stump NEAR his foot. He said I did it on purpose. I didn't. Honest.
Two days later he punched me in the face because I forgot to take back "Catcher In The Rye" to the library, incurring a 5 cent late fee. That was the first time I'd ever broken my nose. It's happened 8 times since.
I split for the better part of a year. I lived with friends, and for a while with my Grandparents. Found out my parents were going on a 2nd honeymoon for a week in Jamaica. So I moved back in while they were away, and threw a huge party. Busted windows, broken furniture, the local fuzz, the whole bit. Figured I better leave again.
While I was out on my own as a 16 year old, my grades went from C's back to straight A's. I also became one of a handful of people to ever attend my high school to earn varsity letters in 5 sports in 1 year. I was also selected to be part of PA Ambassadors of Music. I got to go to Europe for a month over the summer and sing in the chorus. I paid for the trip myself by washing cars and mowing lawns, working for my Grandpa setting tombstones, and working as a stock boy at a local pharmacy.
It was at this time that I joined the Army under the delayed entry program. I was not going to be beholden to my parents for a college education. So I decided to do a 3 year hitch to earn enough money under the GI Bill to pay for college. That was a mistake. I didn't know about school loans, and my guidence councellor didn't mention it to me. That kinda fucked me over.
After the Army I went to Penn State, York campus. It was like 13th grade. I majored in soccer, hardcore punk, drinking, pill popping, and fucking the snot out of the cheerleaders. The only A I got was from my purple haired English Comp prof that I regularly made my bitch. She totally should have been fired or something. I left school after a year and started my life. If I had gone to college right out of high school, I'd probably be running a magazine right now. But 3 years on my own in Europe kinda soured me on college.
I have basically been on my own since I was 14, and I've done pretty well for myself. But it has been really hard. If my folks hadn't been such hard asses, my life would have been much much easier. Discipline made my life hell, and I will NOT put my son through that. I will encourage, but I will not force.
You wanna call me fucking stupid? Live a day in my shoes asshole.
Neil Young is a God of Rock & Roll. |
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| Bloozehound |
most all liberals hate their parents
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| Sir Stonesalot |
I don't hate my parents anymore. I haven't hated them in a very long time. Life is too short for hate.
And I'm no liberal.
My whole point with that post was that...very very few of you actually know me. What you know is the character that I play on this board.
I don't say things like "fuck discipline" without having a VERY good reason for saying it.
I am my own man. The only person that I listen to on a regular basis is myself. I don't take orders.
I may be a lot of things, but fucking stupid ain't one of them.
[Edited by Sir Stonesalot] |
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| Bloozehound |
were you a liberal? |
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| Sir Stonesalot |
I don't think so.
I'm registered as Non-Affiliated...and have always been registered that way.
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| Bloozehound |
that's cool
i kinda think of myself as the same way
i had growing pains too
but life is too short to hate your parents
(unless your daddy was john wayne gacy and assraped u your whole life, i could understand resentment brewing there)
[Edited by Bloozehound] |
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| stonedinaustralia |
Nasty I couldn’t connect to that link you gave above (do you have a url)
beer wrote:
debating the definition of "Rock" versus "Rock And Roll", is very Un-Rock And Roll.
didn't you rogues read the rule book? sheesh.
And that’s an excellent point beer – indeed,in the words of our baby steelie – “just play the f$%king track”
However in another(related)thread Gazza wrote
>I've always maintained that there’s only TWO types of music anyway. Good or bad.
and that line sprang to my mind almost immediately this topic started
and reminded me of the following – and teach, I make no apologies for shamelessly reproducing another’s work – at least I give the credit where it’s due – better than rehashing – rephrasing the thing and then passing it off as my own
it’s from a book I’ve championed here before – “Crosstown Traffic - Jimi Hendrix and post-war pop” by Charles Shaar Murray –it’s on the point ‘tho seen from Hendrix’ perspective which,(un)fortunately, is one which provides an excellent example of the folly of this sort of endevour
Nasty if you haven’t read this before you should get something out of it simply from the point of view of a record store owner – how do you run your operation when it comes to this sort of thing??
Btw/ I expect the Jeff Bridges epigramme is ironic and the other definitely not and so:
CODA
The English and American Combined Anthem (Slight Return)
‘Hey! Whew! Rock and Roll!’ - Jeff Bridges introducing the “Legends of Rock” TV Special (1978)
‘Power is the ability to define phenomena and have them react accordingly’ – Huey P. Newton, co-founder of the Black Panther Party
Categorization is a wonderful thing. A couple of years ago, I was combing through the racks of a major British record chain searching for replacements for a hideously scratched up copy of “A 25th Anniversary in Show Business Salute to Ray Charles”.
However, I couldn’t find Brother Ray anywhere. I checked out the soul rack; I looked under blues; I flipped through jazz. Finally I admitted defeat and asked an assistant: he directed me to ‘easy listening’, where I found what I wanted nestling amongst the Barry Manilow and Julio Iglesias records. That was laughably inappropriate to say the least; even more traumatic was to find another leading chain had their Jimi Hendrix records binned under ‘heavy metal’; right up there with greats like Iron Maiden and Guns ‘n’ Roses.
This kind of brutal reductionism reflects, quite accurately, the way popular culture actually works. Ultimately, you see what you want to see, and what you see is what you get. What a writer thinks a book maybe about- or a director a movie, or composer a song – is ultimately not the point; what the reader, viewer or listener thinks it’s about is. It is utterly pointless for artists or critics to ascend their respective high horses and either mope about being misunderstood or deliver querulous pronouncements about the hegemony of philistinism. Their customers are only interested in the suffering of artists if they make for good gossip, and they are only interested in art if it DELIVERS – a good story, a good dance beat, laughs, tears, loud noises, whatever. (A critic thereby becomes Culture Hut’s de facto head waiter; the trustworthy kind who’ll really tell you what’s good and what’s ‘off’ tonight.)
In order for said customers to find what they want with the minimum of fuss, it’s just as well that retailing layouts emphasize the uses to which the store’s patrons put certain musics rather than the intentions, ambitions and actual achievements of the performers concerned. The notion of a store which classified it’s records under headings like “Albums Done to Get out of Contractual Obligations, A – Z, “Albums Designed to Annoy the Artist’s Ex, A-Z, “Records Men Like to have Sex by, A-Z” and “Records Women Like to have Sex by, A-Z” is admittedly rather attractive, but it would take a hell of a long time to find all the Marvin Gaye records.
Nevertheless, the very notion of ‘easy listening’ seems a massively incongruous description for the extremes of un-insulated pain and joy in the music of Ray Charles. And Hendrix as Heavy Metal? Phallic strut, death obsession, science-fantasy imagery, Fender–Marshall meltdowns…what else could it be?
Finally, who cares? Hendrix was fond of saying that ‘there are only two kinds of music: good music and bad music’, and while he didn’t originate the line – it’s been around at least as long as Louis Armstrong – it is certainly one which he fervently believed.(Now THAT’S how to run a record store: “Good Music, A-Z” and “Bad Music, A-Z”.) His own music drew freely on anything he had heard which appealed to him and he had a lifetime’s worth of experience to tell him how demeaning and deadening it is for anybody – any music, any culture, any artist, any people, any PERSON – to be defined from outside and then made to conform to the limitations of that definition, especially when that definition is explicitly hostile. Perhaps this is why, finally, Hendrix’s vision, and the legacy of that vision, means so much more than a burnt Stratocaster and a sweaty headband.
CSM |
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CHAT
ROOM aka THE FUN HOUSE] [
RESTROOMS]
