About Us

There is a good chance you found us accidentally by using the word “taint” in your search (If you found us on purpose, you deserve our accolades). Of course we don’t know what you were looking for, but you stumbled on a damn cool project. Look around; let us help send you on a musical journey. Here you will find a number of album reviews from the strange and extreme to the tame and mainstream. Our reviewers are a bunch of obsessive miscreants. Most of us are avid music collectors and have been involved in the music world for decades. A couple of us have been in or are still in bands.

There are no rules on Tickle Your Taint Blog. Our reviewers might make you laugh, or piss you off; both results are legitimate. One reviewer might write a glowing review of an album another might tear it apart. We may end up adopting a single review system, such as five stars, or each reviewer may use his own or none at all. We may have a new review every week or we could end up with one every six months. This blog exists as a social experiment to build community among a diverse group of music maniacs – our reviewers and hopefully you. Pull down your knickers, lube up and join us in tickling yours and our taints.

If you are in a band, have released a physical (rather than an MP3) CD or record, and would like us to review your efforts, contact us at tickleyourtaint@yahoo.com

Tuesday, November 28, 2017

Fleetwood Mac, Fleetwood Mac (1975), sometimes known as “The White Album.”


I am a big Fleetwood Mac fan, warts and all. Of the Buckingham/Nicks line-up of the band, their self-titled record from 1975 might be my favorite. It is a little more humble than the massive Rumors album. It also quietly introduces what was to come down the line. It was a new start for an old band and it felt young and fresh. The Buckingham tracks rock, the Nicks tracks have a depth and mystique that she tried to hold on to for the next 35 years, and the McVie tracks jell in a hypnotic dance between her keyboards and Mick’s ride and John’s basslines. It was the beginning, and the ending, of a particular kind of innocence that this band would never again recapture. It’s almost perfect.


Fleetwood Mac is a strange band. They have several distinct periods of music. Their second eponymous record (which was their tenth studio album), released in 1975, was the first one to feature Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, alongside long-time members Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, and Christine McVie. The hit songs from this record and the several that followed catapulted the band into the stratosphere. The Greatest Hits collection presents a fairly cohesive band, organized around three primary songwriters—Buckingham, Nicks, and Christine McVie. But many of the studio records from this line up are uneven, featuring a handful of great songs (often the hits), some sleepers, and strange cuts.

For me, their 1975 self-titled record is a case in point. Side A of the album starts with Lindsey Buckingham’s “Monday Morning.” His vocals and guitar are quirky, which is quite typical of his songs. The drums are great, which add an infectious element to the tune. McVie’s “Warm Ways” fails to hold my attention. “Blue Letter,” the only song not written by the band, is catchy. Stevie Nicks shines on “Rhiannon.” Her voice is smooth. It is ethereal in many ways. The song is warm and beautiful. “Over My Head” is a fine, but not remarkable. The same is true of “Crystal,” which has a folk-rock sound and is a little trippy at times. Side B starts off with two good songs: “Say You Love Me” and “Landslide.” The former is McVie’s stand out track on this record. The latter is a beautiful acoustic ballad that still hits me in the heart even after all of these years of hearing the song. It is remains one of Nicks’s masterpieces. In my opinion, the record could have ended here. I really do not care for “World Turning,” “Sugar Daddy,” and “I’m So Afraid.” For me, they are filler tracks. In the end, the record has three or four songs that I really like. In many ways, I think this record was laying the foundation for the following record, the truly exceptional Rumors, which is mostly one great song after another.

Monday, November 27, 2017

Malcolm Young (1953-2017)


AC/DC is such a foundational band that it’s easy to just write them off as a cliché from a bygone era. If you listen to any form of aggressive rock music, you’ve heard sooo much AC/DC you could go without hearing a single note from the band for a decade and still be able to rattle off at least a chorus from one of their classics. Malcolm Young was the rhythm guitarist in a band that defined the fundamentals of great rhythm guitar playing for generations of rock musicians. If it wasn’t for AC/DC, my life would have taken a completely different track. I have no idea who I would be. So many rock musicians have died in the last decade, it seems there is a high price to pay for reaching the heights of musical achievement. My heart goes out to the Young family. Too many great musicians have left us seemingly before their time, while too many politicians seem to stick around long after their debt to the world is due.


Malcolm Young was a riffmaster. As the rhythm guitar player in AC/DC he did not garner as much attention as his brother Angus, but his stamp on the sound of the band is unforgettable. He was the punch in the music, with the flick of his wrist. He laid the foundation on which everything rocked. This is because he played guitar in an economic and percussive style, allowing for space between notes, which added to the power of each song. In the late 1970s, my neighbor who was much older introduced me to AC/DC. We would listen to records such as High Voltage, Let There Be Rock, Powerage, and Highway to Hell in his basement. At the time, it seemed like I was hearing music that was forbidden, given the dark and risqué elements in many of the songs. The music seemed dirty and dangerous for a young kid. In the 1980s, I saw AC/DC in concert. The Gretsch guitar that Malcolm played seemed huge compared to his slight stature. Nevertheless, he threw down and played the hell out of it. After all of these years, I remain a fan of the band, in large part due Malcolm’s big, meaty riffs.

Others will be able to praise Malcolm’s place in rock and his important role in the band that put the RAWK in rock. I’ll just say that without skeletons, we would be jellyfish. Malcolm was AC/DC’s skeletal system—unassuming but integral.

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Fats Domino (1928-2017)


I’m pretty sure I knew the words to “Blueberry Hill,” before I had ever heard the song. I have distinct memories of singing the song with my family at the dinner table pre-elementary school. I figured it was one of those songs everyone knew like “Old McDonald Had a Farm” or “Jingle Bells.” Of all the early piano-banging rockers, Fats and Little Richard were my favorites. Fats had a great, soothing quality to his voice and made undeniably catchy tunes. My favorite Fats song has always been “Wait and See.” Rock and roll might have been a little different without his New Orleans touch.


While I never found thrills on blueberry hill, I was quite fascinated by what dreams may come true there. Fats Domino’s version of “Blueberry Hill” is among the earliest songs that I recall from childhood. His voice and piano were magical. I remember seeing black-and-white footage of him playing this song on television. He had a huge smile and seemed so happy singing. I watched his hands pound out the rhythm, and I sang along with him. The horns on this song, as with most of his, complemented his voice perfectly. The lyrics further cemented a fascination of the connection between love, promises, heartbreak, and memories. By all accounts, Fats Domino was a very modest person, who lived most of his life in the neighborhood in which he grew up. His songs still bring back nice memories of singing along to radio, whether it is “Blueberry Hill,” “Ain’t That a Shame,” “I Can’t Go On (Rosalie),” “I Want to Walk You Home,” or “I’m Walking.”