The White Mouse Has Escaped!

Easy easy cheap cheap cheap...History and Revisionist Reality at the 2003 VMAs

What’s that flinty taste in our mouth? Why, it’s the unforgiving barrel of the Mossberg 12 gauge jammed between our teeth. The shooter’s face is distorted – garish, hyper-real images flicker unabated eighteen inches away, just above the chamber. Bursts of red, washed-out orange, and otherworldly, shimmering gray reflect in blue steel; frames fly by faster and faster, each one unique, yet oddly, opaquely the same. Is this our life flashing before our eyes? Can’t be. We were never voted off anything. What was that shot? A rose on a tray, women wiping tears from their hardened eyes? That never happened to us. What’s P. Diddy saying? Wait, we don’t even KNOW P. Diddy! Then the images falter, fade to black. And we see it. A thin fiber optic cable leads from the Mossberg’s double action trigger to a frosted glass office door marked ‘Reality Television – New Season.’ The wire terminates in the keyhole of a silver knob. And that knob is turning.

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Ted Nugent is a Mad Man

Possibly the best issue of any magazine ever.Ted Nugent has been suing venues lately for cancelling his scheduled shows because of “derogatory racial remarks” he allegedly made during a May 5 radio interview with some dumb morning show in Denver.

We at Glorious Noise thought this would be as good a time as any to remind people of the hilarious interview Bob Mack conducted with Ted Nugent in Grand Royal magazine, issue #2. Grand Royal is sadly missed; the magazine, the record label and the website were all exemplars of excellent taste.

Back in the day, on their audio/video page, Grand Royal offered the following mp3: Bob Mack vs. The Nuge. It’s quite possibly the funniest three minutes and twenty-four seconds you’ll ever hear. Enjoy.

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Stars – Heart

StarsHeart (Arts and Crafts)

Shall I even tell you that this album bleeds lovelorn youth and defines emotional saturation, or have you figured that out by now? The Canadian group Stars are another one of seemingly endless bands currently devoted to reminding us that amore still has its rightful place in music. Luckily, for those of us willing to accept music that’s blatantly cardial, Heart offers an album of solid pop and lush overtones.

Like American Analog Set has discovered the “bombast” knob on the mixer, Stars maintain a steady formula through Heart—soothing vocals (either male or female, preferably both), pulsing bass, orchestral swoons, swirling keyboards and warm drum loops. The songs are a wash of blues and purples; atmospheres that appeal to the most tolerant of us, the elitist crowd. But what’s more, like The Postal Service, Stars also manage a record that binds us musically to our most bitter rivals—the “pretty” people, the ones that go out every night and dance without worrying how stupid they look, the people who get laid on a regular basis and own pre-bleached jeans. It may not be a universal cure of cancer, but the social effect this subgenre has had in finding common ground between two radically different subcultures is an interesting side note.

Throw any barbs you want, in the end, Stars will absorb them and shoot them back with all the delicacy of a Bath and Body Works lilac-scented candle. Just give in and accept the fact that whether you like it or not, Canada has done it again—another great band in their arsenal against American music. Kill ’em with kindness, I suppose.

Stream Stars songs online at New Music Canada.

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Authentic

Multinational conglomerates taste yummy!What do George Clinton, LeAnn Rimes, Tracy Chapman, Third Eye Blind, Bennett Cohen, and Jerry Greenfield all have in common? Apparently not one hell of a lot. At least, that could be the interpretation drawn from the cancellation of the “One World One Heart” music festival, which was to have taken place in Bethel, New York—yes, as in “Woodstock,” for those of you who are keeping geographical track—during the weekend of August 23. The festival, which began in 1991 in Vermont, apparently didn’t quite sell enough tickets to make the event economically viable. Which is what it all tends to come down to nowadays, in this dog-eat-ice cream environment that we’re living in. Ice cream? Oh, maybe you missed the reference: Cohen and Greenfield are the two guys who are better known as “Ben & Jerry.”

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Black Rebel Motorcycle Club – Take Them On, On Your Own

Black Rebel Motorcycle ClubTake Them On, On Your Own (Virgin Records)

“The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.” – A Bronx Tale

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club’s debut, B.R.M.C, was tantalizing. The thick reverb and dreamy vocals lent the otherwise typical garage rock a shoegaze quality. The songs were dark and haunting. Tomorrow held lots of promise for these fellas.

So it’s a surprise that their latest album, Take Them On, On Your Own, leaves a sour taste. The idea behind the album isn’t bad on paper—a record of twelve songs that sound like “Whatever Happened to My Rock N’ Roll (Punk Song),” one of BRMC’s best tracks. And it’s not really bad in its execution—the performances and production are good, for sure. The guitars are crisp, the drums pound and the bass thunders like on every great rock album [I thought it was the drums that do the thundering – ed.]. So why is Take Them On, On Your Own such a letdown? The songs. Forget the fact that the band have abandoned the droning bass lines and dreamy vocals of their debut in favor of more generic leather-jacket rock; the most disappointing thing about this album is that all of the power chords, tough-guy leads and call-to-action vocals are completely put to waste in songs that just aren’t that special. The songs here go through the motions, but none do enough to come off as memorable. They’re excellent in their ability to go unnoticed—nothing on this album jumps out. “And I’m Aching” changes pace and veers into typical ballad mode, dropping the tough guy act for the first time in BRMC’s short-lived career and comes away sounding like a Dashboard Confessional demo.

When BRMC was released, people took notice because during the boom of nu-garage bands that were all the supposed “next best thing,” Black Rebel Motorcycle Club actually sounded as if they could pull away from the pack. Now, they’ve resorted to the type of shite that has made their less accomplished peers substantially more profitable. I’d like to believe BRMC didn’t do it for the money—that the rock god act (although a bit overdone) was genuine, but I’m not sure. Either way, Take Them On, On Your Own is worse than bad. At least bad music gets a rise out of me—this album leaves me nothing to think about other then how hungry I am.

Sympathy for the Remix

Call me LuciferUbiquitious production crew The Neptunes have remixed The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil.” (Watch and hear it here.) Save your outrage, puritans. Of course no one needed to hear a remix of one of rock’s most perfect songs. But the Stones are in business, and “Sympathy” is a commodity. Instead of gnashing teeth over the validity of the act, save that energy for an analysis of the result. Or just read ours.

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Jack Logan Singles Club

Jack LoganJack Logan has recorded some of the best songs ever written, and many of them were released on his two-disc debut, Bulk, in 1994. The legend is that Logan was a swimming pool motor mechanic/comic book artist living in Georgia and casually recording songs with his buddies in his living room, when all of a sudden, one of the guys from REM heard about the songs, and the next thing you know, a guy at a record label is sifting through over 600 of Logan’s songs, trying to figure out which 42 to release…

Several albums later, Jack Logan is still writing and recording songs with his pals, and now he has teamed up with athensmusic.net to create the Jack Logan and the Monday Night Recorders Singles Club, where you can download a new song each month.

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Rock and roll can change your life.