Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: Joan Baez (Page 1 of 2)

Thoughts On The Rock & Roll Hall Of Whatever

The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony is tonight, and no matter what you’re doing, it’s better than having any part of that unctuous ego-orgy. Fuck off, R&RHoF, fuck off for forever and a day; take your precious Stratocasters in their security-glass sarcophagi with you; dump it all in Lake Erie and let it float away until someone needs to make another documentary.

No one loves you, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. They just use you for the sales bump. Money’s on the dresser.

Anyway, they’ve run through all the deserving artists (not really) and now we’re left with an evening whose highlight may or may not be Steve Perry’s presence. Which–if you’re keeping score–does not count as a highlight in any reality except the one where you are wrongly accused of murdering a Girl Scout troop and Steve Perry is your alibi. In that reality, Steve Perry showing up is the biggest highlight of your life. In this one? Not impressive.

Here’s this year’s class; I will try my hardest not to do the “BUT THESE BANDS AREN’T IN” bullshit. None of this matters and it’s all offensive to anyone with an IQ high enough to spell “IQ.”

ELO ELO? Ugh. Meh. Nah. Psh. ELO was basically Beatles fan fiction with a disco beat. Jeff Lynne was also the weakest link in the Traveling Wilburys. One shining moment: soundtrack of Boogie Nights.

Joan Baez The first whispers of a Baez comeback/rethink are in the offing, and let me put a stop to it toot fucking sweet: Joan Baez sucks. Her voice is like a clumsy surgeon’s scalpel, and she appears humorless. (At least in her material. FoTotD David Browne recently interviewed her for Rolling Stone and she sounded tolerable, but it’s not the Sixties any more and I hate the fucking Sixties and the fucking Baby Boomers and they can all suck my balls and someone get a Time Sheath and send Joan Baez back to Woodstock so she can lecture people some more.)

Journey New rule: if you replace the lead singer with someone who used to cosplay as the lead singer, then you can’t be in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Sure, there’s been a 20-year-long chain of Fake Jerrys in the Dead, but…

Huh.

Realize you had an indefensible point halfway through the sentence?

Little bit.

Kadlicek.

Yup.

Wanna apologize to Journey?

No. Fuck Journey.

Acknowledge you were wrong, though.

No. Fuck you.

Oh, I’m looking forward to the light and life you’re going to share with the world this evening. What a fine mood you wear.

Bite me.

Pearl Jam Ten was good, Vs. was great, and Vitalogy, No Code, and Binaural had their moments, plus I really dug the album they made backing up Neil Young. Here, check this out:

(There’s an official video, but trust me: you don’t want to watch it.)

So, yeah, okay, fine, whatever. Good job, Pearl Jam.

Tupac Shakur Tupac was Trixie’s high school friend, so I am glad for him.

Yes Yes is the only band more ridiculous than the Dead, and the only one on this list other than Pearl Jam that TotD has seen live: holy shit, was it excruciating. It was the Union tour, and Yes fans will remember the Union tour as the tour when every human being who had ever been in Yes was onstage at the same time: 20 or 30 deeply unpleasant-looking pale men waiting for their turns to solo.

Why did they do this? Well, there were two Yeses at the time: the Chris Squire/Buggles/Trevor Rabin version (which owned the name), and the version with Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe (who performed under the imaginative name of Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe). The two factions kept suing each other and cannibalizing each other’s ticket sales, so the record company mushed them together and threw them out on the road.

Did you miss the part about the Buggles? The guys who did Video Killed the Radio Star? Yeah, the Buggles were in Yes for a while. Swear to God. The only backstory with comparable complexity belongs to Cable from the X-Men, and that involves both time travel and alternate dimensions.

Fun fact: Rick Wakeman has joined and quit Yes five times, and he bought himself a new cape to mark each occasion.

Nile Rodgers Go look at this motherfucker’s credits. I dare you. Plus, he produced this:

So, there ya go.

For The Benefit Of Ms. Baez

bobby joan baez AIDS

“Members of the press, Joan Baez’s scarf, various microphones, janitor who wandered in and began eating the donuts only to be shrieked at by Joan Baez, Otis: welcome.

“First of all: these mics are unprofessional as hell. When the Dead does a show, we all have the same kind of mic. It just makes for a better presentation, and the Dead’s all about presentation.

“I’m happy to be part of this benefit with Joan Baez & Friends. Mickey is doing a show under the name Joan Baez & Friends With Benefits, but I don’t know what night that is.

“Me and Garcia are gonna play some acoustic numbers. You know: casual. And, uh. we played rock-paper-scissor to see whose bass player to use, and Garcia won, so John Kahn’ll be there. Joan’s gonna come up and do a tune or two with us, because it’s in the contract. Fun night.

“AIDS isn’t fun, though. I hope no one thinks that. There are some aids that are great–hearing, marital–but you capitalize that sucker and, you know: boom. Everyone’s worse off. It’s ironic that something named AIDS is so unhelpful.

“And if I can digress for a second: it’s a little odd that no one’s complimented me on my chest hair. A little odd. All I’m saying.”

Wrap it up, Bobby.

“Go Niners.”

Good speech.

Kickstart My Heart Of Gold Band

I find some weird shit on the innertubes, but Spencer has everyone beat: here’s Bobby, Mickey, Joan Baez, and Tommy Lee playing a semi-acoustic Not Fade Away for Earth Day.

Of note: Joan’s dancing (as bad as her singing), Mickey’s tasteful Dead shirt-wearin’, and the guitarist’s (Michael Kang?) ultra-hyper-beyond-cool five-string Ibanez. Tommy Lee does not take his penis out once, but we already know what it looks like.

Mickey Tried

29e8b906-b887-3c42-b050-2d469335e852“Coach Wooden taught me everything I know about milking. It begins with properly lacing up your boots, because otherwise you were gonna get poo on your foot. Doesn’t matter what you’re milking: it’s just interlaced with poo.”

“He’s talking about that coach of his again.”

“Joan, you’re here because you’re Mickey’s plus one: don’t talk shit about our friends.”

ps For as bad as Joan Baez sucks (really bad,) she is one fine-looking old lady. If Mickey didn’t follow her into the bathroom while dropping his pants, I’m disappointed in him. (Billy might have, but he does that all that time.)

Swinging Party

mickey jerry joan baez 2

While not exactly the most rock star of footwear, the duck boots are a pragmatic and laudable decision by Mickey: you take care of your feet and your feet’ll take care of you, as Mickey never said. The fact that they don’t have little Stealies monogrammed onto them is surprising.

We can also see from Joan Baez’s boots that weather might have been a concern that day, so it’s lucky that Garcia slipped on the same globs of brown leather he’s been wearing every single day for three years.

Also, you’ve heard of Bitchy Resting Face? Joan Baez has Bitchy Smiling Face; inside her skull, she is screaming silently over the fact that Garcia is smoking in her house.  And right before the picture, she made them hide their doobies because one must keep up one’s image, dontcha know. In fact, this entire afternoon played out like a Marx Brothers routine and she was Margaret Dumont.

Or is this Mickey’s house? Wouldn’t you agree that Joan Baez has a real firm “no shoes in the house” policy? Right? That shit gets enforced: Joan Baez will cut you.

It can’t be Garcia’s place: judging from the flannel and general air of malaise and hygienic malfeasance, this would be the period that Garcia lived in his dealer’s basement.

Y’think Mickey ever porked Joan Baez on that hammock-chair thing?

Couldn’t help yourself, could you?

North Star Special, Were You On Board?

Musicians Posing Together

  • Joan Baez was the hippie Courtney Love, but with less self-awareness and fewer corpses.
  • I’m not kidding: bearded Mickey is approaching Slender/Boogey/Candy Man levels of scary.
  • That guy on the left? His name is Isaac Rockandrollowitz and the way he wears his yarmulke makes the girls down at the synagogue swoon.
  • Carlos Santana: hockey fan.
  • This was during a weird time in Bobby’s life, emotionally, and he was given to reciting Shakespeare at the top of his lungs when uncomfortable. In this photo specifically, he’s doing St. Crispin’s Day.
  • Fuck that other guy: he looks like the pothead landlord from Tales of the City.
« Older posts