My favorite music

There's no shortage of good music in the world; from classics like Beethoven, Bach or Hendrix, to much more mundane acts like the Dropkick Murphy's, A Tribe Called Quest or Jack White.

But what makes good music great? Lyrical symmetry? A classic arrangement of major vs. minor chords? A hooky chorus? A bumpin' beat?

I honestly don't know. I can't play a lick of music myself, and I've never taken a music theory class, but this is the internet dammit! I don't have to know what I'm talking about to have an opinion!

All hail Wally, King of the shammers!

So, I'm going to keep it simple and narrow it down to what makes a good song one of my favorites. It's very simple and completely subjective.

I could name thousands of great songs, but my favorite ones, the tunes that really mater to me all have on thing in common; I can remember the first time I heard each one of them.

I remember being 7 or 8 years old doing dishes with my dad at my family's apartment in Anderson, Indiana, when The Charlie Daniel's Band came on the radio.

It would be years before music became a consuming passion of mine, but I remember bouncing around our tiny kitchen swinging a wet dishtowel around like a bull whip whooping with glee as I heard the story of some kid named Johnny kicking the devil's ass for a fiddle.

I think it was probably the coolest thing I had ever heard in my young life, and honestly it probably still is.

I can also remember sitting in the front seat of my mom's car when I was maybe ten. We were on a road trip of some kind and driving through the back end of nowhere. Needless to say there wasn't much on the radio, so it was my job as the passenger to scan through the stations. We came within range of a tiny backwoods classic rock station just as they put on The Clash's Should I Stay or Should I Go?.

It was freaking awesome.  Mick Jones voice a couple notes south of pitch perfect, Joe Strummers echoing in Spanish (Ecuadorian Spanish according to Wikipedia.) I started a one man mosh pit in that car. I don't care what anyone says it is possible to pogo while seated, it’s just less graceful... which makes it more punk... I think.

I first heard my favorite band (at least favorite current, touring band) Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in the Army just days after graduating from basic training. I was stationed at Ft. Meade Md. for Advanced Individual Training and was in shock over all of the freedom I suddenly possessed. I could use my laptop, eat from the dessert line at the dining facility and most importantly listen to music.

I was walking down the hall when I heard Peter Hayes, voice heavy with angst and anger, howl, "Whatever happened to my rock and roll?"

I immediately followed the tune to a complete stranger’s room and demanded to know who the hell he was listening to. I've been hooked on the band ever since. If you've never heard them you should check them out. 

I could go on for pages like this. I could tell you about the first time I heard Rage Against The Machine (Guerrilla Radio, play Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2), or the Pixies (same as everybody else my age, Where Is My Mind? at the end of Fight Club)

Like I said, I could go on like that all day but then you would get board and never read anything I wrote ever again.

I don't think many people will argue that these are all good songs, but objectively speaking they might not be the best in the world. They are some of my favorites though, because they made an impression on me.

One Last thing, I want to here what you think, what are your favorite songs or artists and why? Post a comment here or on my Facebook page.

Cheers!

Punk is dead

I was at the bookstore today and stopped by the Starbucks inside to get a coffee. I don't go in for that caramel macchiato, venti frappuccino nonsense. My dad raised me to be a man not a 15 year old girl. I drink my coffee straight black... because I'm a man and because when I was 14 and put cream and sugar in my coffee my father called me a wuss, and now I do the same to any man drinking that watered down bull-crap.

Anyway, I'm at the Starbucks and on the CD sale rack I see the Ramones' Rocket to Russia. So I scan the overhead menu and exclaim, "I'll have a venti Iced mocha frappaccino with extra whipped cream!"

We've lost the war punk rockers. It wasn't all the Blink 182 wannabe's bubble gum bullshit, or Greenday's self-aggrandizing rock opera's/F-ing Broadway shows. It wasn't even the poor little emo kids clamoring their genesis began with solid introspective punk bands like Minor Threat, that discredited the genera I always saw as the conscience of rock and roll. It was freaking Starbucks.

So to all you kids out there listening to your cool uncles old Dead Kennedy's LPs or Bad Brain's tapes, to all you pissed off teens channeling your rage through a three chord progression in your garage or basement with your 2 or 3 best friends; to you 35 year old who still wears his CBGB's to work at least once a week; turn off the record player, hang up your axe, buy a suit.

We've lost the war, brothers and sisters. I'd recommend cutting ties as quickly as you possibly can: take a bunch of E and going to a Lady GaGa show.

 ...Screw that!

It doesn't matter if Joey Ramone and Sid Vicious come back from the dead just to open up an American Eagle franchise together, punk is bigger then the artists who play it. It's stronger than record executives bent on defining and packaging a product to angry kids, and it's more enduring than any label we could put on it.

Punk rock is the small reminder in back of our sonic consciousness that Rock and Roll is not about stadiums or sex or fame or even talent. Punk reminds us that Rock and Roll can be as simple as a scream of futility and frustration, that any kid with a resolve to be heard can make a racket with a 50 dollar guitar until somebody, anybody takes notice, and no mater how music changes and is distorted that will never change. We won't let it.