Tag Archives: Music

The Radio Still Sucks

A few summers ago I was driving around with the windows down (my shit box car doesn’t have A/C), singing along rather obnoxiously loudly to whatever crappy song was being played on the radio, when Inner Circle’s “Sweat (A La La La La Long)” came on. At first I was like, “Yes! A song from my childhood – I know all the lyrics to this one”, but then, as I was singing, I was like “Wait a minute – is this song about rape?” And uh, yes, it totally is.

“Girl I want to make you sweat
Sweat ’til you can’t sweat no more
And if you cry
I’m gonna push it some more”

I’m sorry, Inner Circle, but that is no way to romance a lady. If I’m sweating and crying, you better get the hell off me. Push it some more and I will punch you.

This got me to thinking about other pop songs that get nonchalantly played on the radio despite their out-there sexual content. The airplay these songs get legitimizes the often-deviant behavior described in the lyrics. I’m no prude (in fact, some say I’m a sex fiend), but this is simply too much.

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Shout At The Devil

This is just a note to say that I fucking love Motley Crue. I saw them for the third time last night (with my free private company box tickets!) and they were more awesome than ever. I heard some people complaining about the sound outside afterwards but those people are losers. The whole show caught me off guard – I was surprised that Vince Neil still has so much energy, that half the band is still hot as fuck (from afar, anyway), that I didn’t see any ladies flash their old boobs and that Mick Mars is still alive. You go, Mick Mars.

The band itself is only a few years older than I am, which is cool because most of the bands I like got their start decades earlier, until about 1977. I feel lucky to have seen them with their original lineup. They may not have played Too Fast For Love or Smokin’ In The Boys Room (such a great cover) this time around, but I don’t care. I heard both songs on the radio right after the concert, anyway.

I heard they’re filming a movie adaptation of their autobiography. I wonder how that’s gonna turn out. Probably bad. Read the book if you haven’t yet, it’s called The Dirt. It’s good.

Oh, and does modern-day Vince Neil remind anyone else of Mickey Rourke in the Wrestler? Here are two pictures, for comparison purposes.


Can you guess who’s who? IMPOSSIBLE, RIGHT?



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The Music Connector

Ah! I feel like a jerk because I totally forgot to write about this. About eight months ago, I posted an ad on Craigslist. In it, I anonymously offered people free mix CDs. All they had to do was send me their address, preferably with a brief description of themselves, and ta-da, I’d send them some music. I don’t know why I did this. I think it was a mixture of feeling bored, wanting to share good tunes and being fed up of getting nothin’ but bills in the mail. I expected under five people to reply. To my surprise, I received 24 emails in just a few hours.

A lot of people offered to mail me a mix back. I told them that they were welcome to. After all, they’d just have to send it to the return address on their envelope.

Making all those mixes wasn’t easy. It’s really time consuming and in my case, it was considerably expensive. I wondered how many people would bother sending me their own mix back.

Well, until about two months ago, the answer was zero. I didn’t get a single thing back. I wasn’t pissed about it, either. That’s not what the project was about.

Then this little guy came in the mail!

Photo 27

Excuse my Sunday, post-Ye Olde Orchard Pub (what? they have good potato skins) tired face. Oh, and to the people I went out with last night: yes, I’m wearing the exact same clothes today. I may or may not have slept in them.

Anyway, back to what I was saying. Someone sent me a mix back! With a cute letter! And a page ripped out from a Japanese magazine! It was really sweet and heartwarming.

I doubt the person will ever see this, but I just wanted to say thanks. You’re awesome, too.

Oh, and anyone who wants a [non-anonymous, at this point] mix can email me.



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Remember Your First Concert?

When I got accepted into my school’s journalism program, I knew zero people in it. It was a little intimidating, but I like to keep to myself anyway. Soon enough, Hiba, a sweet Arab girl, befriended me. We never really hung out off campus until she admitted that she’d never been to a concert. “WTF,” I thought. I had to bring her to one. So, that weekend, I invited her to see Fucked Up. This is a little article I wrote right after the show.

“What are concerts like? I’ve never been to one.” I was kind of floored when Hiba, a classmate of mine, asked me that. I didn’t know what to answer so I decided to let her see for herself by bringing her to her very first show: Fucked Up and Dillinger 4.

hibaWe met up around 10 p.m. on a Saturday night. She explained to me that she moved to Montreal from Jordan, and that there are no concerts there. I don’t know how true that is, but it made her all the more excited. In fact, she seemed a little too excited so I crushed her hopes a bit and told her not to expect huge crowds or pyrotechnics or shit like that; rather, she should expect a small venue and a lot of fat guys.

I took some alcohol out of my bag and offered her the share she was entitled to as my platonic date for the night. She sniffed it and was all, “This smells like shit. What is it?” I answered that it was a light drink (OK, in reality it was absurdly strong) made mainly with rum. She confessed she’d never tasted rum before. “Good Lord,” I thought, “I’m tainting this girl’s innocent spirit.” I decided I could live with that and insisted she drink it. Soon enough she was giggling and telling me how pirates like rum. My concoction appeared to be working. Success!

When we finally got to the show, she was smiling ear to ear. She smiled during every song. It was like seeing a kid in a candy store, and it reminded me of my first concert experience: Boyz II Men and Montell Jordan. I was nine years old and to this day, it remains one of my favorite shows ever. They even did magic tricks. Back to Hiba, though, she was having a blast. At one point she told me she wanted to do ‘that thing where people hold you above their heads.’ I stupidly made her feel my misshaped skull (an accident that happened after stage diving) and she backed out. I tried to convince her anyway but she still didn’t want. I was bummed.

She ended up leaving a little early to catch the last metro home, but later on she texted me about how much fun she’d had. At least I think she did; I was really wasted. It could have been anyone, really. The point is someone texted me about how much fun they had (I think), and that’s what matters. That’s what shows are all about.


P.S. Hi Hiba!


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Does Music Matter?

There is this older man that I kind of admire from afar. I by no means want to be with said man, but I do respect him and find him quite attractive. Well, a little Ipod listening party of sorts took place recently. He plugged his in and out came the poorest excuse for musical taste I’ve ever heard: YMCA, Abba and various television show theme songs (COPS, Happy Days, Full House, etc). His playlist went on for hours. 

What the hell? I never thought about what kind of music this man might like, but in retrospect, it seems as though the Rolling Stones or maybe even Rush would have suited him. His horrid selection of tunes burst my crush bubble instantly. 

Now, I don’t really care what kind of music my significant other listens to. It’s cool if we like the same bands and all, but I like to think I’m open enough to listen to and appreciate different music as well. I’m big on making mix CDs, so if we can introduce one another to new music, then all the better. But TV theme songs? How can I take this full grown man seriously?

Does music matter to you? Am I an elitist bitch? I feel like I’m setting myself up for insults here, but I don’t think I could ever date a guy that had Creed (who are getting back together, by the way! Is there no God?), Nickelback, Yanni or 98 Degrees or something on his Ipod.



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