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 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.
Per the normal procedure, I had taken off all of my clothes, except for my polka-dotted socks, and put on the hospital gown, open in the back. I then slipped on my “COIVD masks,” which consisted of a surgical mask underneath a black-and-white cloth mask. After putting the loops over my ears and readjusting my eyeglasses, I laid down on the hospital bed, which contained a strategically placed “incontinence pad.” It was my big day, as I would soon be on my fiftieth trip around the sun. Thus, I had to get my first colonoscopy—the time-honored tradition wherein a person fasts for at least 24 hours before drinking a gallon of liquid magic that turns one’s anus into an angry water faucet, thereby completely emptying the colon so that the doctor can insert a camera in one’s large intestine to check things out. While I’ve never been called a tight-ass, and the pad was there for possible leakage, it thankfully was not needed.
On this special day, I was in the surgery center, because even though one isn’t under the knife during a colonoscopy, an anesthesiologist is needed as one is put under for about 30 minutes, not all the way, but more like in the “date rape drug” kind of way—just below the surface.
At any rate, I digress.
Katie, the nurse attending me, walked into the curtained off section where I was waiting. We engaged in a bit of small talk, along with some questions and answers regarding the procedure. At one point, I asked her about her accent. “Is that a Southern accent?”
Katie laughed and replied, “Yeah, I don’t know why. It just won’t go away. It’s Arkansas. I moved to Colorado 3 years ago.” She seemed a little embarrassed.
“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it. I think it’s great.” Why does someone expect to lose their accent in 3 years, and why would they want to?
“There’s a lot of rain down there, and heat,” she said.
“And armadillos,” I said in my best Southern accent, pronouncing it “armadillas.”
We continued to chatter. I was already smitten with Katie. She was funny, wasn’t taken off guard by my off topic questions and comments, and, most importantly, she was very relaxed and chilled out. Considering that everyone in the hospital was wearing masks, I could only see her eyes, and they were pretty, kind, and sympathetic. I have no idea how old she was. As I get older, I find it almost impossible to guess the age of most people. I can recognize children and teenagers as such, as well as people in their 90s, but everyone between those age groups is a crap shoot. As a 49-year-old man, I continuously view people much younger than me as my peers. It’s weird. They’re clearly not. Regardless, I’m gonna say Katie was in her late 30s, but I wanted to call her “mom.” I guess context is important.
“The anesthesiologist will be in to talk to you in a few minutes. We are going to put you under for about 30 minutes. They use Propofol,” Katie said, as she wheeled her chair over to hold my hand as she searched for a good vein for the IV. She continued, “It’s really great. It puts you to sleep in a matter of seconds and then you wake up really quick right afterwards.” She had a sparkle in her eye that made me question, just for a second, if she had a Propofol problem. I immediately discarded the thought from my mind; however, I quickly recalled how this sleeping drug killed Michael Jackson. I didn’t mention it, because, ya know, mentioning Michael Jackson is akin to opening a can of worms. Besides, I didn’t have time, as the anesthesiologist walked in and said, “Hummm, Alice in Chains. They didn’t even have masks back then.”
I had forgotten that I was wearing my Alice in Chains, Rainier Fog face mask that I had picked at the beginning of the pandemic. From a distance, it looks like a black and white air filter. The anesthesiologist gave me the rundown of the procedures, asked me about my medications, and mentioned he’d be using Propofol. Fuck it. “Isn’t that the drug that killed Michael Jackson?” I asked with a chuckle.
He replied, “And that is why it should be administered in a hospital under the watchful eye of an anesthesiologist and not at home.” He nodded, smiled, and finished writing down a few notes.
Having secured my IV, Katie squeezed my hand, looked at me from her chair, and in a compassionate voice, which betrayed any sense of irony, said, “Michael Jackson really needed to get some sleep.”
I refrained from laughing out loud due to her empathetic tone. I had to wonder if the consensus in Arkansas was that all of Michael Jackson’s problems boiled down to not getting enough sleep, or if this was just Katie’s summation. I looked at the anesthesiologist to see if this was also his take on the matter, but he had finished his paper work and left the room.
After the doctor entered the room and went over the procedure with me, it was time to get the job done. I was wheeled into the operating room. I was instructed to lie on my side. The lights were killed as to better view the monitor that would project the feature film that would star my colon. The anesthesiologist put his hand on my shoulder and informed me that the he would administer the Propofol in a matter of moments. Suddenly I heard “Man in the Box,” the big hit from Alice in Chains’ first album crank out of speakers that seemed to be situated throughout the room. Is the doctor okay with this? He never mentioned my mask? Was this the anesthesiologist’s idea? It couldn’t be a coincidence.
I heard a voice say, “You’ll start to feel sleepy in a few seconds.” My fading thoughts were as follows: “These guys must be pretty cool. They’d be cooler if they played something from the new records. It’s no big deal. It’s just a colon exam. Put on some rocking tunes. Alice in Chains. Michael Jackson…needed sleep.”
I began to fade back into consciousness, aware that some time had passed. I was sleepy, but awake. The room was still dark. Am I supposed to be awake? Should I verbalize this thought? I noticed two things simultaneously. The first was that a well lubricated, slightly vibrating object was in my butt. It didn’t feel unpleasant. The second thing was that now a different song was playing from Alice in Chains’ third album. Still not the new stuff. It was a good song though. I can’t remember which one exactly. I only knew what album it was from. I felt really good vibrations. I mustered up the energy to speak, “I’m awake.”
“I know.”
I faded away again.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the original room I was in prior to the procedure. Katie was there. She said, “See, you wake right up afterwards.” It took me a few moments to collect my thoughts and realize she was talking about Propofol again. Michael Jackson definitely got some good sleep on that shit. It does the job. I felt like I had been sleeping for hours; I was well rested. After putting my clothes back on, the doctor came in to go over the results of the colonoscopy. When he finished he was about to walk away, when I stopped him.
I said, “Was it you that picked out the music.” He lost his air of authority and gave me a slightly embarrassed look. He said, “Yeah, did you like it? I try to play music for patients some times and I’m not sure if it….”
I interrupted him. “It was great. I appreciate it. Thanks.”
A big smile appeared on his face and he looked relived, “You’re welcome.”
I was going to mention the new albums, but I decided to just go home knowing that, to some degree, he must have had a little music junkie in him too.
I’ve never been a Foreigner fan. Even when I was a young kid in the late 1970s, the only impression I got from the band was sweaty polyester, testosterone-driven, mediocrity. If stinky jock straps in a high school locker room had a sound, and not just a smell, they would sound like Foreigner. The cover of the album Head Games did little to dissuade my opinion, as it looks like an advert for a slasher/rape scene. SoDak and I wrote a review of weird albums covers a few years ago and we included Head Games in our list for this very reason. You can check out that review here: https://tickleyourtaint.blogspot.com/search?q=album+covers.
Now, I don’t want to come off as a jerk. Maybe the guys in Foreigner are great people. I don’t know. Usually, I can find something interesting even in music I dislike. In addition, sometimes, a band I can’t stand has a few decent songs based purely on a memory of a specific time and place. Thus, I have a confession here. The Foreigner song, “Waiting for a Girl Like You,” on the Footloose soundtrack is okay. It makes me feel nostalgic and sad, like a puberty heartache, or something. It’s got a gentle atmosphere about it. Foreigner also reminds me of being a small child curled up in the back seat of the car, driving many miles through the country on cold dark nights going to my older step-brother’s wrestling matches. This was something I didn’t look forward to, or enjoy, but I guess I was too young to leave home alone at the time. Foreigner was all over the radio back then. The other exception, and I hate to admit this, is that if I am driving alone somewhere and “I Want to Know What Love Is” comes on the radio, I don’t change the station and I get a little emotional. I don’t know why. Don’t tell anyone. Anyway, that came out years later, right? Was it 1984?
Anyway, I digress. The point is I hate Foreigner. You may ask, then why did you listen to Head Games? The answer is that sometimes I make bad choices. The album was on my radar after SoDak and I reviewed the album cover and I just happened to be in a used record store and saw the LP for a buck, so I thought, “Ya know I should listen to this just for good measure. Just to experience the horrors that lie beneath the retched album cover.” I had never listened to an entire Foreigner album before.
So, I listened to it. It wasn’t worth the buck I paid. What a horrible record. It is exactly what I expected and only solidified my decades long opinion of the band.
The album starts off with “Dirty White Boy,” which is a song that just makes me think of gross hyper-sexual guys in my high school PE class who talked about “pussy” constantly. Gross.
The next song is “Love on the Telephone,” which makes me want to hit myself in the head with a hammer repeatedly. Boring crap.
By the time I got to the third song, “Women,” I realized that I may have been mistaken when I have stated that Kiss are the worst lyricist of all time. It’s actually Foreigner.
What follows are the lyrics to “Women.” I have them here in their entirety so you can get a sense of the horror that goes on for a full three and half minutes.
Women behind bars
Women in fast cars
Women in distress
Women with no dress
Women in aeroplanes
Women who play games
Women in uniform
See that woman with her clothes torn
Women who satisfy
Women you can’t buy
Like women in magazines
And women in a limousine
Women who sip champagne
Women who feel no pain
Women in a disco
And women who don’t wanna know, know, know
Oh women wanting sympathy
Women feeling ecstasy
Women who live in fantasies
Bringing man to his knees
Women who fall in love
Women who need a shove
Women who can’t be beat
Get that woman in the back seat, yeah, yeah
Women in the U.S.A.
Those women steal your heart away
Women into rock ‘n’ roll
Women who steal the show, go, go, go
Women that you write songs about
Women that turn around and kick you out
Women you dream about all your life
Women that stab you in the back with a switchblade knife
Oh women, ooh, ooh
Talk about women
Around the world
Yeah women
Oh no, it goes
Talkin’ ‘bout women
C’mon baby
Holy crap.
I suffered through the rest of the album like a paint-by-numbers hair-shirt exercise. The song “Head Games” eventually shows up on side 2. However, by that point I couldn’t even wax nostalgic for the long drive in the cold, backseat of a car rumbling down country roads.
This album is awful. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore.
First, I will provide some foundational background: Karl Willetts, the singer of Memoriam, started the band as a tribute to his bandmate, Martin Kearns, the late drummer of Bolt Thrower. He enlisted Frank Healy, the bass player from Benediction, Scott Fairfax on guitar, and Andy Whale on drums. What followed was a string of three incredible albums from 2017 through 2019. Before recording their latest release, Andy Whale was replaced by Spike T. Smith, whom has played for Morrissey, Killing Joke, and The Damned. Andy left the band as friends, simply stating that he needed to spend more time with his family. Other than this lineup change, the band members have remained consistent.
As I am not a metal aficionado, my references and attempt to explain Memoriam are limited to my own experience, which is one of the things that makes writing about music so much fun. Our musical landscapes differ depending on where we come from and what were have been exposed to through the years.
I stumbled across Memoriam by accident. I took a chance by picking up The Silent Vigil on cassette tape. All I knew about the band was that they referred to themselves as “old school death metal.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, as I am not a huge fan of “death metal” per say, despite my deep love of Cannibal Corpse. However, after giving a first listen to Memoriam, I was reminded that Cannibal Corpse is known as “extreme death metal” for a reason, and it queued me in on what “old school death metal” means.
The first thing I noted was that Memoriam were slower and created more space in their songs. They were a bit more akin to Black Sabbath than Cannibal Corpse. There was also a clear absence of “blast beats.” Forgive me, as my frame of reference for the unending categories of metal is quite limited. There are entire universes between Cannibal Corpse and Black Sabbath, but you know what they say, “write what you know.” The other noted difference was the vocals, even though on the Memoriam album they are somewhat “rough” they are not the “cookie monster” style that is characteristic of so many death metal bands. One can hear the words and the humanity in the singing. I instantly liked it.
Next, I watched a few Memoriam videos and interviews. What I found intrigued me even more. The videos seemed to have some political content that, as an old punk rocker, made me very excited. I watched the video for “Failure to Comply” and was reminded how soft so many of the “mainstream punk bands” are these days. The video stood in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter protests and the condemnation of a violent police state. Memoriam even has a t-shirt that is an homage to the old Crass t-shirts. Next, after watching a few interviews with the band, I learned that they were born out of punk rock as much as metal. Karl, who used to sing for Bolt Thrower, a band I had never heard, stated that he found a new freedom in Memoriam to sing about politics and real life, which were not part of the lyrical stylings and restrained subject matter of his previous band. Memoriam provided a new lease on life for these guys. The band provided a place where these old-timers could stretch their wings and move beyond the stylistic trapping of preconceived band concepts.
I immediately bought all of their albums. Though there are differences between the albums, there is also a consistency. They are all fucking great.
The most wonderful thing about the band is that they feel fresh and new. Even though the band is filled with members who have been around the block a few times, they embody the energy of a gang of punk rock teenagers who just burst from the garage. However, their age does shows up in quite moving ways. Not only are the songs antiwar and political, but they are also quite emotional, as they address such issues as mortality and ageing. The first album, For the Fallen, is actually quite sad, and the newest release, To the End, contains a devastating, doomy song entitled, “Each Step (One Closer to the Grave).” Karl sings, “Live every moment like it’s your last.” The weight of the words is palatable. As someone nearing 50, who has witnessed his fair share of death in his life, this song hits me on a deep emotional level.
I could listen to Cannibal Corpse’s George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher sing the ingredients on the sides of cereal boxes all day, and I would love every minute of it. However, Memoriam is a softer and gentler death metal that speaks to my everyday life. Make no mistake, they are heavy and doomy, with crushing riffs to spare, but they also reek of humanity. Sometimes, they remind me of the last Dio/Black Sabbath incarnation, Heaven & Hell, The Devil You Know, which I still maintain is the greatest metal album ever recorded. Other times, I hear the slower Motorhead tracks in these albums, or the dreariness of the last three, post-Lynne, Alice In Chains albums, albeit, Memoriam is quite a bit heavier.
Memoriam are current, timely, and just what the world needs now. They burst out of darkness obliterating the bullshit. For a band that covers many real and sad subjects, they feel like a breath of fresh air and a new spring. Their albums bristle with the creative energy of a young band. Indeed, it is as if the band takes its own advice and plays each note as if it could be their last.
I guess what I’m trying to say is Memoriam is my new favorite punk band. Listen up youngsters, and pull your heads out of your asses.
Fuming Mouth’s Beyond the Tomb is a three-song, twelve-inch EP that demands attention. The title track, which opens the record, oscillates between relentless, hard-driving parts and slower, moody sections. Fuming Mouth does not linger too long on any part. A variety of vocal textures are present, making the song dynamic. I find the back-and-forth aspects of “Beyond the Tomb” to be quite captivating. It remains my favorite song on this record. While Fuming Mouth is generally considered a death metal band, I think their sound is broader than just this. In fact, on the title track, I only hear little elements of death metal, sprinkled throughout the song. Instead, during the fast, intense moments, there are exciting burst of hardcore punk rock. The slower moments have wonderful metal flourishes. The second song, “Master of Extremity,” seems more rooted in death metal, with its slow to mid-paced punishing riff, especially at the start of the song. But as the song progresses, Fuming Mouth incorporate other styles, which open up the music and keep it interesting. When the song slows down and guitar notes are held, there are aspects of High on Fire. At times gruff vocals dominate, then switch to vocals, where the words are plainly audible. The drumming is excellent. With each listen, I find the song more interesting. The closing song, “Road to Odessa,” is more straight forward with its slow, grinding tone, with a touch of propulsion, pushing everything forward. The gem in this song is the additional guitar lead that starts around one minute and forty-eighty seconds into the song. Its brief appearance adds some great texture to the song. Beyond the Tomb is a great follow up to Fuming Mouth’s debut full-length record. I am eager to hear where they go on their next release.
Hey, everyone! Long time no see. I'm back, at least for now. I thought I'd try something a little different in order to motivate myself to write about music again. I hope you like it.
I grew up in rural Washington state. Generally, the less said about this area during that time, the better. I lived in a trailer court until midway through the fourth grade (November of 1983, if you want that much detail), then my family moved to the boondocks, where I remained until I graduated from high school. During this time, my family had cable TV for only a brief few months in 1983. The trailer court had entered the modern world. I recall that summer well - my brother and I spent all day out on our bikes, then we'd return home to watch whatever movie was on HBO. Grease 2 was my favorite, for some reason (Michelle Pfeiffer), but I'd watch anything. Missing from this experience, though, was MTV.
Music Television was not part of the cable package in my hometown. I believe that the city council forbade it. (Dancing was okay, though - this wasn't a Footloose situation.) No matter how it happened, I would have missed out on the heyday of the music video. Once we put our double-wide on the former alfalfa field that we called home, all we got were the standard three channels. While many of my age contemporaries might think of music as both a visual and audio experience, I still have difficulty making the adjustment to "watching" music.
With this in mind, I thought I'd take a look at videos from a random smattering of eighties songs I love. Please feel free to watch along with me. Share your thoughts in the comments, including other videos you think I should watch and/or write about.
The Go-Go's - "Our Lips Are Sealed"
I love this video. The sun-drenched footage of the band cruising around Los Angeles in a big old convertible interspersed with a studio performance - it's irresistible. The band is so young and fun and beautiful! It makes me want to go back in time and see them live at this stage. Please note that, in the video, Jane and Belinda stay in the car while the rest of the band go into "Trashy Lingerie." I just noticed this detail! It makes me wonder what else I've missed! You can also see Jane's and, later, Belinda's underwear when they're playing in the fountain toward the end.
I'm not saying this because of the underwear, but now I'm beginning to understand why people enjoy music videos so much. This video, at least, enhances the listening experience. It makes the viewer want to be a part of what the Go-Go's are doing on that impossibly sunny afternoon in L.A. It's a wonderful video, and an outstanding accompaniment to the song that bats lead-off on one of the best pop/rock albums of all time.
The Outfield - "Your Love" and "All the Love in the World"
Both of these songs come from the Play Deep album, which is an underrated masterpiece of power pop/rock. Aside from a couple of ballads, every song on Play Deep hits the mark. "Your Love," of course, is the big hit. Everyone knows it and has formed an opinion. I love it, but that goes without saying, since I'm including it here. It reminds me of watching my uncles play in the city slow-pitch softball league thirty-five years ago. Once, after a game, I had to take a leak. As I stepped into the ballfield bathrooms, I witnessed two of my uncles in the middle of what I assume was a cocaine deal. (I think I know who was buying and who was selling, but I doubt it matters to you, dear reader.) I turned and left quickly and mentioned it to no one for years and years. I kept their secret. I guess I was a cool preteen, as hard as that is for me to believe. Anyway - this video is kind of dull, but (other than the awesome music) is saved by the totally sick mullets on all three band members. Look at that shit! They're almost a caricature of the mid-eighties "business in front, party in the back" fashion! It's sort of like that picture you've probably seen of the Japanese rockabilly dudes with their foot-high pompadours. The Outfield had the look. I wonder if they also scored some coke from my uncle? Bonus: take a look at the Ronnie Milsap wannabe at 1:57! Seriously, though - this band is a trio. Where did they get Budget Ronnie and the extra guitarist? Budget Ronnie's mullet isn't big enough to be in this band!
"All the Love in the World" is a fantastic song - often overlooked because of "Your Love," kind of how Alpha Centauri A is a little bit brighter and larger than Alpha Centauri B. (It was past time for an astronomy analogy.) The video is better than the above one, mostly because the mullets are that much larger here (presumably because they filmed it a couple of months later). And look - Budget Ronnie shows up again! Strike three, studio musician - you're outta there! We want to see more of the drummer's absolutely amazing mullet! 1985 here, folks. Nothing more to see. Move along. The only change I would make to the video would be to make sure the woman making eyes at the band had a mullet as well. But damn, I love this song.
One last thought - why is an English band called The Outfield? They don't really pay attention to baseball or softball in England. It would be like a United States band being named Batters and Bowlers or the 4-3-3s or The Holding Midfielders. I guess I don't mind - it's just a curious choice.
INXS - "Listen Like Thieves"
A perfect video for a perfect song. The band nails it here. They capture a post-apocalyptic vibe quite well. I don't know if I've ever written on this blog how much I loved INXS as an early teen (before I discovered punk rock). Their lyrics were nothing special, but I sure loved their songs. There has never been a sexier human being than Michael Hutchence. I'm only saying what was plainly obvious to everyone. It's a true shame what happened to him just over a decade after the band made this video. I still need to watch the documentary about him - I should make a mental note to do that, but I'm afraid the documentary will just make me sad. Well, let's just watch this video and remember Michael and the band at the height of their powers.
(edited to add: damn it! "This video is unavailable in your country." Fuck! I've instead included a live performance that I found. Maybe you can find the official video on your own?)
The above is only their second-best song. It is topped by... INXS - "Don't Change"
This might just be the best song of the 1980s. Ask me this question on thirty different days and I'll give you thirty different answers, though. It's a nice, simple video of the band playing in a warehouse. Both Tim and Kirk have teased up their hair for the performance! Andrew decided that it would be a good idea to mount his keyboard on the wall so that he can play it one-handed while dancing. But when things really heat up, he has to turn away to play it two-handed. Jon the drummer (he, Tim, and Andrew are brothers) is the fun-loving guy that everyone adores. Garry Gary Beers looks the coolest with his leather jacket, big boots, and timeless hair. He would look the coolest, that is, if Michael fucking Hutchence weren't the front man for the band. When I was young I wanted to be him so badly. He is the epitome of urban coolness that I (or, honestly, anyone else) could never attain.
My friend Turdy and I have had a plan for a few years to write something for the blog about our love of INXS. Perhaps one of these days we'll get it done. One last thing about Turdy - when I lived in Minnesota, her house was (by car) exactly one Ramones - s/t away from mine. Our friendship was meant to be!
Bruce Springsteen - "I'm on Fire"
I cannot tell you how much I love this song. I did not know a video existed for it until this very moment! Bruce is a surprisingly good actor in this one. The video captures pretty well the turmoil that inexpressible longing and desire can create. Her left hand (with the huge diamond ring) lingering on the fin of the car. Bruce's gaze unable to break away from her legs, except for fleeting attempts to look at her (unseen to us) face. Unable to resist, he drives the car out to her mansion, working up his courage during the trip. At the last moment, Bruce decides to leave matters alone and drops the key in the mailbox. A wise move, even if his heart tells him otherwise. Short and sweet, while conveying more emotion than many feature-length films. Thumbs up!
How about some more Bruce?
Bruce Springsteen - "Dancing in the Dark"
I've had the idea of writing about perfect songs for quite a while now. Specifically, I'm interested in exploring how many perfect songs in a row are on an album. Bad Religion's Suffer, for instance, starts with five perfect songs. "Land of Competition," the sixth song, is a bit of a misstep both lyrically and musically compared to the previous five. The largest number I've found so far is on CCR's Chronicle, Vol. 1. Every song from "Proud Mary" to "Long As I Can See the Light" is stunningly perfect. The train of awesome pauses with their rendition of "I Heard (Hoid) It through the Grapevine," then picks up again with "Have You Ever Seen the Rain" and "Hey Tonight." That's thirteen songs in a row that are a sheer gift to humanity. I'm not sure if a greatest hits collection counts, though. But I ask myself questions like: what are the best two songs in a row on a record? (The answer is "Bad Moon Rising" and "Lodi" on CCR's Green River.) What are the best three songs in a row? The answer may very well be "I'm Goin' Down," "Glory Days," and this song from Born in the USA. Spectacular. In this video, Bruce makes the smart decision to set it to an outstanding live show. Bruce and the band are at their energetic best. You can tell that he's having the time of his life on that stage. It's fun to see Clarence Clemons dancing along (though not in the dark) while waiting for his awesome sax solo. Was that a young Courtney Cox in the crowd and dancing with Bruce on stage?
Scorpions - "Rock You Like a Hurricane"
As with "Listen Like Thieves," this is a perfect video for a perfect song. Such wild energy in the visuals - Klaus emerging from the sci-fi tube, the caged band playing as if their lives were at stake (which they were - did you see that crowd?). The moment at 3:30 with the guitarists rockin' together is all too brief for my taste. It's inevitable that the cage breaks, the woman with the frizzed/teased hair gets in to have her way (presumably) with Klaus and the gang, and our heroes retreat (along with the aforementioned woman) back to the neon stasis tubes. This song fucking rules. I never get tired of listening to it. Klaus Meine is, perhaps, the least likely sex symbol that the 1980s produced. (Yes, I know Scorpions have been around since the 1960s.) I am terribly jealous of my brother - he saw them live a few years ago and declared it a wonderful experience. Hopefully I'll get a chance at some point to see them.
(Edit: damn it again! Here's a direct link to the video.)
Living Colour - "Cult of Personality"
Living Colour's Vivid is the most underrated album from the 1980s. Corey Glover is the most energetic front man I have ever seen. Vernon Reid is the most versatile guitar god you're likely to ever encounter. And the songs! Vivid is crammed full of amazingly tight compositions that demonstrate a mastery of several different types of music - metal, power pop ("I Want to Know" is as good as anything The Knack did), punk (check out the intro to "Desperate People"), rap, funk, calypso...a wonderful album. They were no slouches in the lyrics department, either. Just listen to "Open Letter to a Landlord" or "Which Way to America" to get a taste of how sharp they are. The video here is crammed full of interesting treats. My favorite part is watching Vernon play his big solo - he uses so much whammy bar action that he probably has to re-tune between songs! Then Corey's hair band comes off as he headbangs us all to hell, but is magically back on as he sings the final verse. Then it's off again! What a great song.
Bonus content - the band playing the song live on the Arsenio Hall show. It's so fun to see Corey strutting around the audience like a pro wrestler (complete with spandex shorts!), then heading back on stage to do a short synchronized dance with Muzz. Hope you enjoy it. Maybe you'll spot the old dude in the crowd suffering through the performance, which might be the best part of the whole video.
Steve Perry - "Oh Sherrie"
I've always appreciated that "Perry" and "Sherrie" rhyme. The pop music DJs of the mid-eighties probably enjoyed it as well. It rolls off the tongue. Try it. But back to the video, which is completely ridiculous. It's not hard to believe, given their ubiquity, that video producers were making music video parodies as early as this. Steve halts the medieval proceedings, walks off the set, mopes a bit, spies his true love, then walks down and takes her in his arms while telling us all that their love holds on, holds on. This video's statement is important - it's saying we should get back to the basics that everyone enjoys. All we want to see is Steve Perry in tight jeans (one can see the outline of his package) and righteous sideburns spending time with a good-looking lady. It doesn't matter that the aforementioned lady is wearing red tights with a white summer dress, I guess. Might as well throw on some leg warmers while you're at it. I don't want to nitpick - this song is the best. If you hate it, you and I have nothing in common.
Belinda Carlisle - "Mad about You"
Okay, I have a thing for eighties Belinda Carlisle. This is probably my favorite song from her post-Go-Go's career. I'm just a big lover of her voice - not much range, but she does everything she can with it. Not everyone can be Madonna! The video is a pretty good representation of two people in love. We've all seen and heard it before, but this iteration has Belinda as the star! Plus - and I hate to sound shallow, but I guess sometimes I am - this video shows Belinda at her most stunning. Wow. As one of the video commenters notes, she looks like a movie star from the 1940s or 50s.
(Edit: this is getting fucking old. Here is the direct link to the video.)
Lita Ford - "Kiss Me Deadly"
If I had had access to MTV as a teen, I'm not sure who I would have had a harder crush on - Belinda or Lita. No one (with the possible exception of Tickle Your Taint's own Kloghole) ever looked better in spandex. Or leather pants. Or ripped jeans. (The same applies to Kloghole.) The video is hot. I wish I were that guitar. The song is quite enjoyable as well. I've always liked the bridge of this song - the little guitar part after Lita declares "But I know what I like" never fails to thrill me. And the chorus is full of energy. The guitar progression when she sings "Come on pretty baby, kiss me deadly" is first rate. Bonus: keytar sighting at 2:36! There is more that I could say, but I'd rather watch the video again than type more!
Quiet Riot - "Cum on Feel the Noize"
Okay, bear with me here. "Metal Health" was my first encounter with heavy music. It came out when I was in 4th grade. A friend of mine brought his boombox to school one day along with his cassette copy of that album. I recall following him around during lunch while being blown away by these songs. I had never heard such a loud guitar! Plus, it was scandalous to hear a song called "Love's a Bitch."
Everyone knows this song is a Slade cover. This version is light years better than the original song. Strangely, the band hated doing it. On their next album "Condition Critical," they led it off with another Slade song ("Mama Weer All Crazee Now.") It didn't take a genius to figure out that the first cover moved a lot of product, so it might make $ense to try it again. As fate would have it, the Quiet Riot version couldn't touch the original. (I don't know if this is controversial, but Slade's version of "Mama" is an unimpeachable classic - one of the best songs of the early seventies.)
The video itself is kind of boring, at least for the first half. The extended scene of the guy in his bedroom "feeling the noize" is unfocused and lasts too long. They should have cut to the band rockin' out a lot earlier. This scene is fine. I always thought Kevin DuBrow was one of the strangest looking people ever. Bug eyes and a hatchet face. I wish I could wear his tiger-striped spandex pants! I could have fit in them when I was nineteen. Rudy Sarzo's and Carlos Cavazo's hairstyles are on point. Rudy's feathered hair farm is glorious, while Carlos's...hairdo would later be perfected by suburban moms throughout the U.S.
The funniest thing about this song - one of the wits commenting on this video said "I feel sorry for anyone named 'feel the noise.'"
I could keep going with this, but we'll end with...
The Housemartins - "Caravan of Love"
I was not aware of this band and song in the 80s (small town, no college radio, etc.), but I fell in love with them after hearing their London 0 Hull 4 album a couple of years ago. If someone set out to design an album specifically tailored to me, they could hardly have done much better. It's like three albums in one, all with Marxist-inspired lyrics about supporting each other through hard times. There's the punk/pop stuff, the northern soul-tinged covers of classic tunes, and the a capella versions of some favorites. The latter songs remind me of my college roommate Jason, who was a big a capella fan. He was even part of an a capella group in college. Unfortunately, he died in a car accident twenty years ago - some piece of shit wasn't paying attention and hit him as he was going to pick up his daughter. Love you and miss you, my friend. This song (which was a single they released between their two albums) is for Jason. He would have enjoyed it.
I don’t quite remember how I stumbled on to Year of October, but I’m certainly glad I did. This powerful three-piece hails from Nashville, Tennessee. They are self-described as “fuzzed rock soul,” which is pretty much dead-on.
Their album, Wastelands, is their third release. It came out in October 2020, in the midst of a pandemic. Even though touring has been (and currently still is) out of the question, it’s a thrill to get the chance to listen to this album and soak in the anticipation of seeing Year of October live in the future. Let’s dig in.
Track list:
Side A
Black Widow
Greevil
Venom
My Soul
Wastelands Pt. 1
Wastelands Pt. 2
Side B
Out to Dry
Cut Me Open
Fade Away
Buried REDUX
Wastelands starts out with a super fuzzed guitar reminiscent of heavy 1970s/early 80s influence. For some reason, T. Rex, but beefier, comes to mind. There is a solid rhythm pounded through the opening driving song. The vocal delivery involves some heavy bellows, which helps to forge the iron-feel of this album. It’s gritty, it’s dirty, it’s got some serious funk (not disco-funk, FUNK-funk), and it moves through the marrow.
As we move through the album, “Greevil” (https://yearofoctober.bandcamp.com/track/greevil) is like being crushed by a fuzzy boulder. Solid, slower, and beefy with reverb interludes. The drums pound slow and steady, adding a vital base layer, with a great rhythm that adds to the song in simplicity. I have heard the vocals compared to Amy Winehouse, but “Greevil” makes me think more of Eartha Kitt singing in a heavy rock phase. And that’s a wonderful thing!
The album slows down for “Venom” and “My Soul.” This gives the band a chance to showcase their ability to lie in a groove and just let the song naturally come out in every aspect. This is impressive on several levels. It allows the listener to just sit back and take it in. Both songs would fit on a great soundtrack as you race along a desert highway in the middle of the night.
“Pt. 1” sets the story as to why you are on this trek. “Pt. 2” gives you the adrenaline to drive all night in this scenario. This closing two-part song on side A would make a perfect one-sided ten-inch record. But ending a side of a full-length album is almost too killer. It makes you breath deep, as your pupils dilate. It’s like a mind trip without any chemical effects that are just created in your brain and in your soul. These two songs create a feeling of power, but not of anger.
Flipping the album over, we get into “Out to Dry.” Heavy, plodding (without being a trudge), and definitely a powerhouse of a song. I have to say, I really love the chorus:
Oh me, oh me, oh me
You’re gonna leave me out to dry
Steal my kisses and steal my heart
You’re gonna leave me to die
It is beautiful in its emotional brutality.
“Cut Me Open” is the most mellow song on this album. It’s controlled by the vocals, as a sweeping guitar paints a background landscape. And, yet again, the drums are the bedrock behind Year of October. Just a slower-paced, more clean, beautiful song.
“Fade Away” brings to mind All Them Witches, especially the songs from their latest album Nothing as the Ideal (my choice for 2020 album of the year). It’s just flowing and meandering. Year of October is continually painting musical landscapes and I love it. Lyrically, “Fade Away” is not a bright and beautiful song, as I read into them a sense of depression and feeling lost as time and life slips by until you notice a huge chunk of time has passed.
Days become one
They pass and you don’t know
Time no longer means much
When you’re stuck in this hole
And you fade away
“Buried REDUX” involves the back-and-forth of a ringing guitar and fuzz-force. A great way to end a powerful album.
When I first heard Year of October, I thought they would make a great band to do a theme song to a James Bond film, if James Bond films were way more intense. Let me put it this way. Year of October is the soundtrack to a James Bond that meets the Road Warrior film, taking place in the desert. It can only be defined as sonic. Wastelands delivers vast musical vistas while conjuring visions of heat waves rising from the desert. It is just plain fantastic.
In all of my brief communications with them, they are super kind and just rad all around. Hell, my pre-order of Wastelands showed up broken in half. I was disappointed in the postal service (as a postal employee myself…and I do understand that sometimes things just happen in the post office). I just reached out to the band to let them know my excitement to get the album will have to sustain as I was going to order a replacement. They wouldn’t let me, and sent me another copy at their own expense, which certainly wasn’t expected from me, nor required by them.
Take the time to dive into their 3 albums. You won’t be disappointed.
