My Fantastic Short Fiction and Where To Find It

"Serenity" (Babbling Of the Irrational)
        First person, wildly personal, and probably the one I'm proudest of. Offline; now here.

 "She Of Underneath" (Not Your Mother's Breast Milk)
        Anybody can write about a chocolate chip cookie; try writing about one individual chip. Offline; now here.

"Dots Dots Dots" (The Drabble)
        Short and sour.

"Golden Now" (Friday Flash Fiction)
         I tend to respond childishly to nihilism.

"Hush, Sweet" (Mad Swirl)
        I placed myself a comfortable distance away before picking up the pen. The fragments proved too unsettling for the whole.

"Each Yearning" (Little Rose)
        Third person, wildly personal, and one of the earliest stories I conceived. Offline; now here.

"Heart Of the Moon" (Black Dandy)
         Surrealist gem. Also my first story in print.

"American Goulash" (Vagabonds)
         Won't lie, I'm stunned this 'un found a home so quick. I pegged it as a sleeper.

"The Life Expectancy Of a Human Skeleton" (The Sonder Review)
          I hope reading this leaves people feeling as exhilarated as I did while writing the thing.

"Ten Buckets" (Five:2:One)
         Twisted list, like ranking yer fave pretzels.

"The More Real Skin" (Sun and Moon)
         Welcome home! Now offline; reposted here.

"The Sick and the Damned" (Fiction on the Web)
          One of my personal favorites found a marvelous home.
        
"Night Swimming By A Burning House" (Bending Genres)
          As of this date, the last short story I've written.        

"Daybreak" (Literary Yard)
          The short story I've shopped most has a home.

"Beach Buddy" (Bull & Cross)
           Just a funny little game between friends.

"Give The Mother Some" (Soft Cartel)
           A chapter from my aborted first novel.
    
"Recover Me" (Maryland Literary Review)
           And another chapter from my aborted first novel.

"From Me To You" (Scars)
          Short and savory. Click on my name.

"Clean Away" (Crepe & Penn)
           My aborted first novel, pt. 3.

 "Volume and Dirt" (Cabinet Of Heed) 

"Weak Wood" (Trouvaille Review)

"Time Lord" (Idle Ink)

 

The Last Jedi Didn't Ruin My Childhood, Asthma Did

The previews are almost over. The eighth installment of the Star Wars saga is about to begin.

In one theater seat, the casual admirer, the sort who buys a movie ticket with the reasonable expectation of an action-packed space jam. One seat over, behold the massive-obsessive. Their bonafides are unimpeachable. They've been counting down the days to this moment. Star Wars is not merely a fun little kids movie, it's a way of life, redemption and repletion in one riveting package. Their living quarters are barely navigable thanks to all the merchandise they've purchased over the years: DVDs, VHS tapes, books, action figures. They are possibly costumed.

In between these extremes--seated a few rows back, to the right--is the passionate fan. Seen all the entries multiple times, read a couple of the books, shared a theory or two with a similarly obsessed best friend, wishes Mom hadn't tossed out all those toys.

Three distinct types of fan. Three distinct experiences. I am in the rear of the theater: fan since the early 80s (to the point where I used lines of dialogue from The Empire Strikes Back in place of sheep when sleep came slow), saw Return of the Jedi in theaters, whined my way into dozens of play-things and books…hell, my two favorite childhood toys were an X-Wing Fighter and a Mama Pound Puppy with a chocolate-brown coat and dark brown spots.

Now that I've proven I'm old, it's time to talk Episode 8.

SO MUCH SPOIL, incidentally.

General Organa's Resistance is on the run from Supreme Leader Snoke's First Order. Super-pilot Poe Dameron manages to replace one form of doom with another, and the good guys are forced to hyperspace. Yet, through use of a tracking device, the Order is able to find their ships. In the ensuing attack, almost all of the Resistance leaders are taken out. General Leia survives, but is physically unfit to continue command. Assuming her post is Vice Admiral Holdo, a purple-haired hard-ass who instantly clashes with Poe. Upon discovering her plan to evacuate what's left of the Resistance in transport vessels, the impetuous flyboy stages a mutiny with the help of BB-8, Finn and Rose, a maintenance worker whose resolve to defeat the First Order only strengthens after the death of her sister, who served as a gunner.

Those last three travel to the casino city Canto Bight in search of a world-class code-breaker who they must convince to aid in the infiltration of Snoke's ship. They wind up, instead, with a untrustworthy "slicer." Leia awakens and the evacuation mission is back on.

Meanwhile, oh crap, remember the last scene of the last movie? Luke Skywalker is on his "kill your idols" shit. Rey is not to be deterred, though, and eventually convinces Master Skywalker to teach her the ways of the Force. Which is strong in her, incidentally. She and Kylo Ren are having "Force Time" sessions, even. These "talks" are sufficient for Rey to bolt, convinced that she can appeal to the former Ben Solo's lingering sense of decency.

At which point i said to to the screen what I should have said when I was five years old watching Luke leave Dagobah: "Oh you dumbass."

Yep, Rey fell right into the trap. That she escapes is little to do with her, more to do with Kylo, who assumes leadership of the Order and invites her to bathe in the shade. Instead, she boards the Falcon and heads for the salt planet of Crait, where the last few Resistance fighters are stationed. Awesome ground warfare ensues, wherein Finn is saved from martyrdom by an RKO outta nowhere and Luke shows up for one last confrontation with his sister and nephew he failed.

Except he doesn't….really…I mean, he does…I just…oh my gawwwwwwwww……

The Last Jedi is a surprisingly emotional accomplishment, as well the expected visual one (if you like the color red, boy howdy!) It is also at times hilarious, a reminder that these films should be fun and we should remember to have fun watching them. As with the previous entries, the film ends on a hopeful note (the very last scene is downright Spielbergian). Director/writer Rian Johnson is the best thing to happen to the Star Wars franchise since Boba Fett flew into a sand vagina. He dares. We win.

Well, a hand can make several "V" gestures.

It takes all flavors to make an ice cream parlor. From vanilla to salted caramel, get me? Certain fans in any 'dom carry certain expectations. For The Last Jedi, I'd only two, the same that I'd had for The Force Awakens: that the film wouldn't ascend the heights of The Empire Strikes Back, and that it wouldn't plumb the depths of Attack of the Clones. After a single viewing, I don't know where I would put Episode Eight on my list. I can only tell you with certainty that I love it, it makes me proud to be a fan, and I cannot wait to watch it again.

There are marvelous performances (Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher, to the surprise of no one; Adam Driver, to the shock of everyone) and some of the most breathtaking shots and sequences in the entire franchise (silence has never been more golden). There are a few underwhelming/odd notes--the character of DJ, the "Whoo!" kid at Canto Bight--as you'd expect from anything with a 152-minute runtime.

Still, Episode Eight has played the Raddus to the fanbase's Supremacy. The discrepancy between the Rotten Tomatoes critic and audience scores is already the stuff of legend (to say nothing of the fan tallies on RT and Cinemascore). The scribes have been mostly positive, almost always fair; fans fill forums and comment sections with paragraphs of effusive praise, followed by paragraph of vitriol.* Passion is a quality I'd never discourage, as I equate apathy with death in all areas of life, but if a person in the process of expressing themselves bends into a shape that allows their brain to slide out, of what value is their expression?

It's good that The Last Jedi has left so many viewers unsettled. Especially the entitled ones. The ones who had their childhood "raped" by The Phantom Menace. The ones who wouldn't know a plot hole from a Plott Hound. The ones who at this very moment are typing about how they want to mouth-fuck the cryogenically frozen head of Walt Disney. The ones who see diversification as automatic detriment. They think too little, or too much.

Example of the former: why didn't Holdo tell Poe her plans? Easy--who in the Tauntaun shit is a renegade pilot to a Vice Admiral? Example of the latter: Snoke got screwed!  Snoke is just another sinister figure with a surplus of hubris. At no point in TFA did I sense he was on the level of Palpatine, improved hologram skills notwithstanding.

(Snoke's death also assures us Eppy 9 will not follow the ROTJ formula of conflicted baddie turning to the light and vanquishing his master, since it's already happened. Kylo's gotta be feeling pretty good, having one up on grandpa.)

Yes, Luke was a broken Jedi. That's known as character development.** Yes, they killed Luke. That's called understanding the way life works. Which is to say, that it begins and then it ends. "It's time to move on from the Skywalkers" is just one of several things the death of Carrie Fisher taught me.

The unwillingness to risk, the fear to pioneer, is what allows "Spirit in the Sky" and "Born To Be Wild" to flourish in movies and television to this day. Hell, it was the number one complaint lodged against the Episode Seven!

Careful what you wish for. You might not be willing to get it.

With the last movie, I didn't leave the theater--I hopped fluffy pink clouds. With The Last Jedi, same. Only, the clouds were much darker and bunched much closer together. A self-respecting Star Wars fan should see this film at least twice. Instant mark-out moments abound, as do ones that will take days to process.

Observe. Absorb. Reflect on Luke Skywalker's character arc, from a whiny farmboy to an embittered warrior. Let the emotions flow through you, without pushing out the intelligent thought. Find the wisdom to leave the past in its proper place.***


*I never spend much time rooting around these tunnels, but I don't advocate blocking their entrances. No matter the redolence of moldy fruit and rotting vegetables, all opinions deserve a forum. Respect? Not so much.

**Fans who don't comprehend how Luke could think of slaughtering his own nephew before thinking better of it are also the ones who can't comprehend how Mark Hamill overcame his own trepidation regarding Luke's behavior, and insist on peddling this ridiculous "Even Mark hates this movie!" agenda.

***I can't guarantee that J.J. Abrams will use "Intergalactic" by the Beastie Boys for the trailer (however strongly I suspect it) but I know, you know and our shadows know--Force Ghost Luke will be in Episode 9. So dry those eyes, guys.

Trapper Jenn Ranked You, Charlie Brown

1. A Charlie Brown Christmas
2. It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown
3. There's No Time For Love, Charlie Brown
4. Snoopy's Reunion
5. Charlie Brown All-Stars
6. A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving
7. She's A Good Skate, Charlie Brown
8. He's Your Dog, Charlie Brown
9. Happiness Is A Warm Blanket, Charlie Brown
10. I Want A Dog For Christmas, Charlie Brown

11. It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown
12. Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown
13. What A Nightmare, Charlie Brown
14. Why, Charlie Brown, Why?
15. What Have We Learned, Charlie Brown?
16. Happy New Year, Charlie Brown
17. You're A Good Sport, Charlie Brown
18. It's Christmastime Again, Charlie Brown
19. You're the Greatest, Charlie Brown
20. You're Not Elected, Charlie Brown

21. You're In Love, Charlie Brown
22. He's A Bully, Charlie Brown
23. It Was A Short Summer, Charlie Brown
24. Is This Goodbye, Charlie Brown?
25. It's A Mystery, Charlie Brown
26. It's Flashbeagle, Charlie Brown
27. It's Arbor Day, Charlie Brown
28. Play It Again, Charlie Brown
29. You're In the Super Bowl, Charlie Brown
30. It's Your First Kiss, Charlie Brown

31. Someday You'll Find Her, Charlie Brown
32. Snoopy's Getting Married, Charlie Brown
33. A Charlie Brown Valentine
34. Charlie Brown's Christmas Tales
35. It's the Girl In the Red Truck, Charlie Brown
36. Life Is a Circus, Charlie Brown
37. It's Magic, Charlie Brown
38. Lucy Must Be Traded, Charlie Brown
39. It's Spring Training, Charlie Brown
40. It Was My Best Birthday Ever, Charlie Brown
41. It's the Pied Piper, Charlie Brown

B.O.S.S.--Ranking All 21 Lollapalooza Lineups

A year after putting out the album that propelled them to rock stardom,  the members of Jane's Addiction had enough of other. Singer Perry Farrell envisioned a farewell tour that eventually grew into a traveling festival of music and arts. Emphasizing the fringes, declaring war on the dumb pretty glistening center, Lollapalooza took "Alternative Nation" around the USA, trumpeting inclusivity at all 26 stops. The weirdoes no longer had to huddle in the corner, screaming was encouraged, and anyone that bristled at the sights and sounds could sit and spin.

After a mostly-great initial run ending in 1997, Farrell brought Lollapalooza back in 2003. Plans to expand the next year (two days in each city) fell through thanks to poor ticket sales. For 2005, promoters decided to keep the idea of a two-day festival, albeit in a single location: Chicago's Grant Park.  The year after that, another day was added, and that format has been the standard since.

1. 1994
Expanded to 42 performances, all the better to enjoy the Pumpkins before Billy Boy spiraled utterly out of control, shaving his head and gluing that stupid shirt to his bird chest. That fucking main stage does not relent. Even replacing Boredoms with Green Day wasn't unforgivable, since back in the '90s, Green Day were still writing songs instead of operas. Stereolab and Shonen Knife on the second stage? Jesus, take the panties.

2. 1993
Now up to 36 shows. Primus were never as good as a bassist-led band should be. Alice In Chains and Dinosaur Jr. back-to-back in any context is ridiculous and wonderful. I could bitch about putting the rap version of Up With People on the main stage, but I'd rather squirt over those side offerings: Redman, Sebadoh, Free Kitten and Thurston Moore, Royal Trux, and goddamn motherfucking ass-screaming fan-daming Tsunami.

3. 1995
The last great year of the original run, despite abandoning open fields for seated amphitheaters, which bummed out both bands and fans. The most thoroughly documented backstage drama of any Lollapalooza, but the music matters most. Bar the Bosstones, a legendary main stage. Hell, time your arrival right, you could have avoided that checkered chucklefucks altogether! That was my plan…then my best friend's aunt wouldn't let her borrow the car. Meaning I missed Pavement getting pelted by mud. And Helium. Fuck aunts.

4. 1991
First ain't always best…in fact, a damn good percentage of the time it ain't. What was the best sex of your life? Exactly. The diversity was there, as was the energy, and even a bit of the ol' danger, seeing how Gibby Haynes spent the first few of the 26 total shows firing a shotgun full of powder into the mortified crowd during the Surfers set. Fuck yeah, Alternative Nation.

5. 1992
Actual hip-hop this time! The second stage expanded, with some true gems. Pearl Jam were out to change lives, and did. They could/should have supplanted Ministry in the order, honestly. (I smell pussy…is that you, Al?)

6. 2006
These lineups destroy my cerebral cortex. Going from Nada Surf to Built To Spill to Sonic Youth on one stage; the "adidas-Champ Stage" headliners were, respectively: Sleater-Kinney, Thievery Corporation and fucking Blues Traveler.

7. 1996
Any regular TJMD reader knows I don't hate Metallica. But them headlining the world's premier festival for alternative music was just crap. Soundgarden or the Ramones would have made massively more sense. The promoters hemorrhaged cash last year, though, and they needed the huge name. (I remember seeing Shaolin monks listed as one of the main stage performers and wondering why they couldn't get Wu-Tang Clan. Then, for some later dates, they did. Well done.)

8. 2008
Kanye headlining in his hometown, about to release his worst album, woo. He didn't overcook his noodle and start slandering other major celebrities, either. Look at this: Cat Power, Mates Of State, CSS, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. Fuck you, 'Ye.

9. 2005
Interesting Main Stage selections. I'd show up knowing I'd likely never get bored, though I wouldn't expect to be thrilled at any point either.

10. 2010
Stooges before Modest Mouse. I get it. I don't like it, but I certainly get it.

11. 2014
Think of the oddly great rap selection as a fat pulled pork sandwich between a pair of warm buns, and the best of the side acts like a slab of sweet cornbread next to it on the plate.

12. 2009
Landing Depeche Mode for their only summer festival appearance in the States was a coup. Allowing the singer for Kaiser Chiefs to continue on with that name is a catastrophe.

13. 2010
Gaga is back, on the same stage as Devo. Blues Traveler on Lolla kills me half-dead. They strike me as antithetical to the whole thing. First U.S. show since 2006 for the Strokes, which I'm sure excited a lot of people who still regard the 1980s as the most overrated decade for music.

14. 2011
Shit, the Cars? Wait, Benjamin Orr died in 2000. Oh well, at least there was future Peanuts Movie star Trombone Shorty. Pretty solid side stage options, including the sun-kissed Best Coast.

15. 2013
Three days featuring lots of acts that are comfortably ensconced in my musical library, yet I can die peacefully knowing I never once saw any of them live.

16. 2017
Much chaff (Blink-182, Live) and a few unmissables (Run the Jewels, Tegan and Sara, Warpaint). Lazy as shit, but so am I some days. Just usually not three in a row.

17. 2015
Macca. Fucking Paul McCartney. I'd show up just to see him, maybe check out Gogol Bordello's 27th appearance, then leave. Side stages? Weaker than a baby punch.

18. 1997
The last Lolla of the original incarnation, featuring Orbital, The Orb and Orbit! The headliner rotated between those first two, The Prodigy and Devo, who should have felt enormously insulted.

19. 2012
Even flabby Black Sabbath ("Slack Flabbath") is better than Franz Ferdinand in any shape. I still hate that my best buddy saw 'em back at Ozzfest. (I have Fugazi over him. Still.) Afghan Whigs and Frank Ocean notwithstanding, 2012 is Flotsam-Jetsam City. Not to mention the inclement weather that affected many sets.

20. 2016
A fourth day, another 100K, another how many million? Red Hot Chili Peppers headlining for a record fourth time? Appealing as snorting peppery vanilla pudding. I've seen Kurt Vile live twice, both times in more ideal settings (including the last-ever Sonic Youth U.S. show).

Getting hit by a truck full of Skyline Chili

21. 2003
The return of big ol' sucker shit! Lick mine. Jane's Addiction, bootleg Rage Against the Machine, Tool Jr., the guys that challenged Limp Bizkit for the dishonor of "Most Superfluous DJ In a Rock Band" back in the '90s, offensively inoffensive backpacker rap, and that was just Day 1. Day 2? Can eat me with a stuffy nose.

The Sweet and Sour 16: Concert Combos That Defied Humanity

Merely mentioning these double take-inducing pairings is nowhere near sufficient. Adding further commentary, a bit better. Here at TJMD, we (me, myself and I) yearn to take the extra step. In bare feet.

Behold, the Sweet and Sour 16:

That is how we do.

Winners were determined via a single factor: of the competing performances, which would I--meaning me now, in 2017--most want to be in the audience for. Which gig had the greatest potential to make me feel love, hate ,confusion, giddiness, sexual arousal, and the hunger for popcorn.


Let's look at the "teams."

ROLLING STONES/PRINCE

What Happened: Prince was on the verge, while the Stones were losing the urge. Hardly anyone seemed to realize that, though. The Stones were touring behind their 18th LP, Tattoo You, which featured the big ol' hit "Start Me Up." Sure the record wasn't on the artistic level of the one immediately preceding it--the stupendously groovin' Emotional Rescue--but compared to the eight that followed? Abbey Road status.

Prince was about to release album four, Controversy. This record would mark a creative breakthrough for the Minnesota viking, as he mixed in politics with polyamory. Prince wasn't just aiming to make listeners feel; he wanted them to think.

A month before embarking on his own headlining tour, Prince agreed to open up two shows for the Stones at L.A.'s Memorial Coliseum. The first took place on October 9, 1981. Mr. Nelson and his band found themselves under attack almost immediately. Not only did the group have no major hits to their name, that weirdo out front was wearing bikini briefs and a trench coat. Lusty boos clogged the atmosphere. Food and footwear were hurled towards the stage.

After 25 minutes, Prince left that stage. Then he boarded a plane and left the state, back to the land of lotsa lakes. Management cajoled him back in time for the second show, two days later. That set was seen through to completion, although the reaction was no warmer. (Backstage, Prince allegedly called the crowd "tasteless in music and mentally retarded.")

Why I'd Want To Be There: Hindsight is 20/20, and that's what creates the dilemma in almost every one of these matches. The Stones were not slouch status yet-they were pumping out sets thirty songs strong, still a force on the charts as well as the stage. And Prince wasn't yet Prince, but the guy still had four records of generally high quality to cull from. Who cares how he dressed or if he had a possibly fatal aversion to spelling out certain short words? The Stones audience for those two nights represent the ultimate in "I want to stand here amongst these tens of thousands of shitheads and feel so smug my nose might start bleeding."

Best, here's a quote from Keith Richards shortly after the incident: "Prince has to find out what it means to be a prince."

That's what his parents named him, ya dick!

FRANK ZAPPA/DION

What Happened: For two months in 1974, the man behind "Runaround Sue" opened for Baltimore's finest. I was able to confirm eleven shows, though likely there were more.

Frank Zappa with a gold album is like me losing 100 pounds. No one can quite believe it happened, yet it happened, and it was overdue like a pregnant woman in her thirteenth month. Dude was a genius. A genius is someone who is not only highly intelligent but enormously creative, allowing them to use their intelligence in ways that the average "well-read" person cannot. That is why Zappa's biggest radio hits are "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow" and "Valley Girl." That is why he asked Dion out on tour.

Zappa fans gave the mononymous doo-wopper a generally tepid reaction. Given that the guy's heyday on all checkable calendars had long passed, it could have been worse.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Just to see Frank, really. And to keep fingers crossed I'd be part of a crowd reacting to the man who took the "harm" out of "harmony" in the only acceptable way: polite silence.

ALANIS MORISSETTE/RADIOHEAD

What Happened: Isn't it ironic? Yes, a fearless English rock band opening thirteen shows for a Canadian child actress-turned-Gen X spokeswoman is actually ironic.

Projectiles? Put-downs? Crowds longing for well-processed angst proved too antsy for such boldness.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Time is the drug. Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus have me recalling "Hand Over Feet" with fondness. Add in the marble cave sonics of one of the most hysterically over-scrutinized bands of my lifetime, on the cusp of recording their emblematic album, and just give me a seat in the back of the venue.

(The one song--besides "Creep"--that got any positive response from Alanis fans was "Lift." This convinced the band to leave it off their forthcoming third album, lest they have another "hit." I can get why Kid Rock lambastes Radiohead for their pretensions. I just don't get why he's so ride or die bitch for the Confederate flag given he's from fucking Detroit.)

YES/BLACK SABBATH

What Happened: The tour for The Yes Album lasted a full year--July of 1970 to July of 1971. That final month saw Black Sabbath welcome audiences for a total of three shows; the very same month they unleashed their third wreck-hard, Masters Of Reality. Punter appraisal was, apparently, pretty positive. 'Cause who boos Black Sabbath?

Why I'd Want To Be There: Yes were just coming into their own. Fragile wouldn't be released until four months after this tour's conclusion. That's the album with "Long Distance Runaround" and "Roundabout," super-awesome songs that classic rock radio cannot ruin. Sabbath, on the other paw, were operating at peak planet-devouring. I want to watch goblins pick through a weeded garden of rusted hammers. I want to stand imperfectly still as those very hammers carom off my body like a crackhead in a bounce house.

The headliners must have seemed post-coital.

PUBLIC ENEMY/SONIC YOUTH

What Happened: New York's finest shared the stage at Chicago's Aragon Ballroom, on the last Saturday of 1990: Public Enemy, one of the most brilliant and confrontational groups in the history of hip hop music, and Sonic Youth, the Beatles of indie rock. It should have been Concert of the Year.

It was not. By all accounts the gig was sadly average, thanks in substantial part to the venue's notoriously poor acoustics. Once the house lights came up, though, and the five thousand attendees began filing out, extraordinary things began to happen. A small group of anti-war/anti-authority protesters were demonstrating near the Aragon. The cops arrived. And kept on. Waves of cops. Brutality ensued. (While accounts recommend neither side for medals, it must be noted that only one side had guns.) Luckily, no one was killed.

Why I'd Want To Be There: On its face, PE/SY is a daring pairing. Given that Chuck D cameoed on an SY song earlier in the year, though, you could hardly call it "unexpected." Also both groups recorded their most iconic full-lengths in the very same place--Greene Street Recording in Manhattan.

Weak sound notwithstanding, SY played "Cinderella's Big Score" that night, a tune I never saw live. Not to mention bookending the set with "White Kross" and "Inhuman." What they say about pizza and sex applies to Sonic Youth concerts also.

There's no guarantee that foreknowledge would have spared me from being caught up in post-show violence. I just wonder what everyone would make of the rectangle in my hand.

THE MOODY BLUES/STEVIE RAY VAUGHAN & DOUBLE TROUBLE

What Happened: At some point, the nights were no longer of white satin. It's arguable this bill should have been flipped. Even though the Blues were on album #12 and SRV on #1, one record was clearly superior to the other. These things have little to do with quality, though, which is how the phenomenally gifted blues guitarist ended up opening 28 dates in late '83 for a bunch of enervated cosplayers.

Why I'd Want To Be There: This is a lot like the Yes/Black Sabbath set-up. Great style clash, legends on either side of the coin.

TOTO/THE RAMONES

What Happened: Better yet, in Louisiana. In January. The quintessential American punk rock band, the NYC rock band, one of the most massively influential gangs ever to make a racket, the Ramones sold more shirts than albums. Four of which were in record stores by the time a group of glorified session guys decided to grab some glory.

Per tour manager Monte A. Melnick, the paying customers "didn't have the time or energy to boo." This account tells a different story.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Sometimes, I just need to be angry. The Ramones opening for Toto. In no galaxy will that fail to piss me off. (Also, I'd find out who's telling the truth--the manager or the spectator.)

THE WHO/THE B-52'S

What Happened: Only once, on 11/27/82 at Orlando's Tangerine Bowl. Once was probably enough. Joan Jett was the meat in the sandwich, but neither opener went over well. Goddamn why do audience members try to harm performers as a way of expressing their animosity?

Why I'd Want To Be There: Yeah, this 'un's a sandwich with two different varieties of bread. I'd love to have been there, just to show those fools how to do all sixteen dances. Drunk and happy and dressed in Red Galaxy leggings. I'd also like to make fun of all the Who fans who thought this was actually their "farewell tour."

THE MONKEES/THE JIMI HENDRIX EXPERIENCE

What Happened: Summer of '67. Monkeemania is at its quantifiable peak. They beat out Get Smart for the Outstanding Comedy Series Emmy. Their third LP (and creative reclamation) Headquarters was second only to Sgt. Pepper's on the Billboard albums chart. Eager to gain cred as something other than a bunch of bubblegum vendors, they handpicked vituperative guitar virtuoso Jimi Hendrix as a "support act" after witnessing his fiery turn at that year's Monterey Pop Festival.

I'm a Monkees fan, as well as an Experience fan. Let us be romaine: the Monkees were tentative hand-holding and shy glances. Jimi and the guys were a two-handed slap to the bare, unsuspecting ass. The crowds, overwhelmingly young and female, revolted accordingly. Jimi left the tour of his own accord after only seven performances. A month later, Are You Experienced? came out, and it's just now hit me, 1967 is probably the greatest year in music history.

*checks Wiki*

Yeah, it was.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Ladies and gents, the shining example of a musical mismatch. The moment that Micky Dolenz said, "The weird-looking black guy who humps his guitar before he burns it would be perfect," and no one stepped in to point out how insane an idea that was, history was made. I wish I could go back and attend all seven shows. I'll have to squirm my way through "Your Auntie Grizelda" and the oh-so anticipated solo turns for each individual member, but other than those rare missteps, this is actually one of the better hit-to-miss ratios here.

BLACK SABBATH/THE RAMONES

What Happened: Punk vs. Metal! Meta Knight vs. Yoshimitsu! Weed vs. Cocaine! For their final tour with Ozzy--well, until '97--the Birmingham boys were promoting one of their more calamitous records, Never Say Die! The Ramones were pegged to warm up the crowd for four shows in the last months of 1978. Went over as well as a Pinto on the Autobahn.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Sabbath. Ramones. David S. Pumpkins on you hoes.

VAN HALEN/KOOL & THE GANG

What Happened: The most recent example in this bracket is also one of the longest and most successful: 48 performances during VH's 2012 reunion tour with David Lee Roth. The more I thought on it, the more sense got made. Both groups were far past their commercial peaks, yet neither had lost their ability to knock out the hits to frothing thousands. Both were party bands at heart and oh oh, serendipity! The first show VH played after announcing their reunion was an intimate gig at NYC's Cafe Wha?, a li'l place owned by DLR's family--and the same venue were, in 1964, Kool & the Gang played their first-ever concert.

The sweet celebratory vibes were irresistible. Only the lamest of wads didn't have fun.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Goddamn those hits. "Jungle Boogie" to "Get Down On It." "Unchained" to "Panama." Move, groove, nothin' to prove. Titties jiggle and booties shake. I need to bear direct witness to David Lee "The" Roth, frontman par excellence. Yeah, so that's Eddie's son on the bass, and I doubt he's using an instrument shaped like a liquor bottle but hey--no such thing as the "perfect situation" exists.

NEIL YOUNG & CRAZY HORSE/SONIC YOUTH

What Happened: A year after The Greatest Concert That Wasn't, SY were pegged to accompany the Horse for 49 shows over the first four months of '91. Rock critics splooged in euphoria…while the Neil faithful shriveled up in disgust. His road crew hated on the Youth as well, depriving them of much-needed volume and oh my God, is that a chick in the band?

Why I'd Want To Be There: Distorto Mondo. Louder than love, stronger than dirt. Sonic Youth's last album at this time was their so-called "sellout" (meaning it contained more than two songs that wouldn't make a virgin listener start acting like a member of Rick Mears' pit crew) so it must have somewhat exhilarating to be hated, so virulently and consistently.

THE WHO/THE CLASH

What Happened: I return to the "farewell tour" of 1982, which saw the Clash hang around for a handful of shows, including one at Shea Stadium which years later found its way onto CD. The Casbah was rocked, rhetorical questions were asked ad nauseum, and it was not a put on. Many Clash nuts headed for the exits before the headliners sauntered onto the stage.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Think optics, not sonics. Once-vital to now-vital. The love of money to love and money. A shadow compared to a fleshed-out body.

RUSH/MELVINS

What Happened: Rush fans amaze me. Who's the best band? Rush. Who's the best bassist? Geddy Lee. Best guitarist? That would be Alex Lifeson. Best drummer? Anyone who doesn't say Neil Peart is a commie rap fan. These are the same people who bought Counterparts in 1994, listened to it, and took it seriously.

Rush fans don't surprise me, though. They were less than enthusiastic for Melvins over the four shows the bands played together in Feb. 1994? The hell, you say.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Melvins, at their best, are an hour-long prone-bone session with a deceptively athletic plumber. One of their greatest songs is about a crime-solving goat! And Rush has more than several songs I like in spite of their fanbase, in addition to enough chaff to allow me to skidaddle off to the ladies room with no fear.

SUN RA/DEVO

What Happened: Halloween, 1975. Cleveland. A nearby river is on fire. Probably. At the WHK Auditorium, local radio station WMMS-FM is holding a private party, invitation-only. Sun Ra, the Noah of the Arkestra, Saturn's outermost ring, will be entertaining the lazily-costumed audience, who are also high as giraffe pussy by the time the first act takes the stage.

Devo were hired for the party as a joke, and approximately no one in attendance saw (or heard) the humor. The spuds were raw. Started out talking shit on a prominent local DJ, then performed seven songs that, track title for track title, might be my favorite concert setlist ever. Live debut of "Jocko Homo," incidentally. And it went on for half an hour.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Any serious Devo fan would carjack Marty McFly to be in the WHK that night. Wasted radio schmos throwing full cans of beer at the legends-to-be, in rare quartet mode (back before they dropped a Mothersbaugh and gained a Casale). The Mongoloid Years features fifteen especially chaotic minutes from the performance, and that's cool. Some numbnuts finally leapt onstage, grabbed the mic, and began insulting them. That, friends, is the kind of blinding rage that must be seen. I so wish I'd been there, in a Wonder Woman costume, on the arm of some schlub doing some connected relative of mine a solid. Eyes unblinking, mouth drying, as a verbal tiff between bassist Jerry Casale and a promoter nearly goes physical.

A couple sources I saw claimed the deranged end of Devo's set precluded Sun Ra from unleashing jazzy bop that evening. Jerry Casale and Mark Mothersbaugh both have said in subsequent interviews that Sun Ra did in fact play that night, to an audience of ten.

CANDLEBOX/FLAMING LIPS

What Happened: Label mates hit the road in late 1994 for 62 shows. The 'Box were riding the high of fooling a couple million people, while the Lips were six albums deep, playing their butts off before a less-than timeless band for a less-than riveted fanbase. "She Don't Use Jelly" had not yet hit, so they were basically trying to show the execs at WB they were worth the promo.

Why I'd Want To Be There: Incredulous. That's the only word I can think of to describe this travesty. The stepchildren of the Seattle scene and the bashful, drywall-eating kid with the indecipherable accent, together on one bill. I've never "riffed" a concert, since I think people who pay to watch other people play music should, y'know, shut up and watch other people play music, but the band responsible for "You" and "Far Behind" don't deserve my respect. Or even my B+ riffing game, really.

As you can see in the bracket, I'd spend my one temporal coin on either of the Stones/Prince gigs. The need to feel superior to so many people at one time bests even my desire to watch some inebriated radio executive in a Dracula costume tell the members of Devo how much dick they suck.

CRIMINAL ELAMENT, "Hit 'Em Where It Hurt" (1994)

Behold. The most corn-riddled frisbee ever shat out by Pen 'n' Pixel. The pinnacle and the nadir, all in one.

Keep your humanoid animals, your holograms, your cities of fire, your gratuitous partial nudity. I want an oceanic evening sky, four dangerous young men in white tees, a locomotive ridden by a red-eyed dog. I want a car. I want a racehorse. I do not want any understanding of scale or gravity.

The cover for Hit 'Em Where It Hurt conveys speed, danger, and ridiculousness. Criminal Elament sacrificed clarity and common sense to ensure we understand how helter is their skelter.

"Indadoe"--Wavin' all types of numbers. Considering this is their first album, of course Criminal Elament want to introduce themselves with a skit of a plane being landed in a thunderstorm. (I think.)

"Life Of a Youngsta"--I can tell the MCs apart; I just don't care that I can tell the MCs apart. Each of these young men is married to the same cadence, which ultimately does neither her nor them any greater good.

"Trippin' Out"--Begins with horse racing commentary…wow, the cover is actually connected to the music.

Houston rap group talking about hallucinations? If it ain't the Geto Boys, it better be the 5th Ward Boyz.

"Side Wayz To the Next Life"--As a general rule, authenticity is a laudable quality. Gangster rap prides itself on authenticity. The best of the genre combines lyrical and musical skill to create a riveting soundscape. Criminal Elament do not represent the best of the genre.

"Hit 'Em Where It Hurt"--The funk of Al Gore! The subtlety of John Leonetti!

"Family Stick Together"--Unless one of them quits their job in a fit of a temporary insanity. Doesn't matter how hard they try afterward to get their life back in order, if they don't follow a predetermined set of rules to prove their worth, that person will not receive significant familial support. You cannot be your true self around family members. They will judge you harsher, and more unfairly, than any stranger. The best of them will pretend to care. They will all forget their culpability when you die.

"Da Train"--All right, so the cover wasn't haphazard. Still sucks.

Seinfeld bass with Home Improvement snares. Everywhere hurts.

"It Goes On"--Tight, old-school vibe.

"Outdadoe"--Why, it's a fuckin' hoedown! It's a fuckin' hoedown, why?



Anticlimaxes remind me why I'm ardently pro-choice.

SEXX FIENDS, "Let's Get Butt-Naked" (1994)

Tiny T and Rated X are the Sexx Fiends. Hailing from the great state of Texas (TX, get it?), these pussyhounds listened to a shit-ton of Miami bass and thought: yeah, bitch.

I was so fixated on the visual of two shirtless dudes hovering on a studded leather bra that I damn near missed that guy on the left (is it T? Is it X? Do I care? Kinda?) has his hand down his pants.

"Watch Ya Gal"--The intro cost thirty bucks, and they paid in ones. Guarantee.

Tiny T calls himself "the nymphomaniac motherfucker." He meant "satyromaniac." Don't gimme no lip about 1994 being "pre-Google," I promise it wasn't "pre-dictionary." Anyway, Tiny T fucks a lot. He knows 99 positions, seven more than Prince! I cannot possibly be offended by this. He temporarily changes his name to "Li'l T" just to rhyme with the words "will be."

"Can't Spoil Ya"--Ah, dilemma! The independent woman…who wants to be indulged every now and then. And the broke men…who resent them. This song is actually shrinking on me.

"Butt Naked"--Cartoony skit. Will this record ever begin to piss me off?

"Cum With Me"--Actually features faux-intercourse and thinks a woman exclaiming, "Ooh Tiny!" is a turn-on.

"Hey Ho's Re-Mix"--There's a bawling kitten sound that reminds me of the sound my Mac fan makes. It distracts me from understanding how busta simps are fuckin' up the game.

"Nigga Don't Get No Bigga"--The sex might be meaningless and loveless, but at least it's consensual.

"Punk Bitch"--Wherein Tiny T explains the origin of his sobriquet: he stands only five feet five inches tall.  A simplistic bump without the grind.

"Hollar At Ya Boy"--L.A. meets FL meets TX and cooks up that rarest of dishes: the disappointing enchilada.

Another use of "cock" in place of vagina. No, I will never get used to that. The hook is handled by an actual young boy, whom I would like to thank for not allowing my interest to flag.

"Suck On"--Fuck off.

"Stop the Ho"--Who's the Isley stepbrother convinced he's sprinkling paprika on the proceedings this evening? Because I want to erect a statue to his self-delusion.

"Yo Gal"--Has all the replay value of a used rubber.

"Ain't No Luv"--I know Tiny T didn't want me to think of diapers when he talks about refusing to "pamper a slut," but hey, the artist can't control how their work will be received.

"Throde Off"--An amateurish cluster-bomb produced by Dr. Dre's cousin's attorney.

"All That Shit"--Hey, Sexx Fiends named a song after what I say every time I pass the Scotch section at a liquor store!

When your doorbell begins dying, sample it.



An album by "Sexx Fiends" should be hardcore in every facet. The language should be filthy and explicit. The beats should bang in any setting. The sexism should inspire me to make my grill a "No Hot Dogs" zone. You failed, Sexx Fiends.