Ten More Albums I Own and Deplore
Twelve, actually. But who wants to read through a list of twelve. It's a number more suited to quantifying chicken embryos, donuts, or something.
No baby news other than my deep anxiety is channeling itself into record reviews. Unleash your inner music critic! (or Onan, whatever.)
Speaking of wanking, I was, and remain to a certain extent, a fan of what has been referred to as 'progressive rock.' I believe this moniker is intended to refer to the practitioners trapped in this pigeon-hole tending to play in unusual (read: undanceable) time signatures and to compose lengthy songs, suites, row houses, or condominia wherein they describe Frodo being buggered by an Orc, or something possibly more clever than that. In any event I admit to owning many (too many) records made by prog-rock bands from the 70's and even some of their solo and spin-off projects. It is fortunate that the latter efforts were made so I can keep the one-album-per-act thing going, because, I will admit against interest, I still enjoy some of the albums I own by the said 70's acts. (Go ahead, Crouton Boy, lay it on me.)
Without further ado, the last ten records for the purpose of this list which I own and hate but used to love, or at least liked, or thought I would like for some reason but was horribly wrong.
95. JEFFERSON AIRPLANE Surrealistic Pillow (1967)
The sign of things to come. Lame opportunism disguised as psychedelia. If this album is, in point of fact, what San Fran is built upon, I suggest everyone move far away from there.
94. CHRIS SQUIRE Fish Out of Water (1975)
I loved Yes. All it took was ignoring the lyrics and then it was simple. I thought, gee, I like the band. I'll bet I'd like this album. I thought wrong.
93. ROBERT FRIPP THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN The League of Gentlemen (1981)
I thought very highly of Mr. Fripp until I listened to this album.
92. McDONALD AND GILES (self-titled) (1971)
Wow, the half of the King Crimson line-up which produced 'In the Court of the Crimson King'? I can't believe my fortune in locating this hard to find nugget of prog-history! It... it... it... sucks.
91. SYD BARRETT The Madcap Laughs (1969?)
Wow, the genius behing Floyd's greatest album produced a solo album, after those bastards kicked him out of the band HE CREATED, saying he was erratic? He's a genius! I'll bet this album is great. I'll bet he proved them wrong.
Again, I lose the bet. I know there are those who romanticize this man as some kind of Byronesque figure and I used to count myself as one of them. The fact remains: he's nuts. There is nothing glorious or romantic about being in that predicament. This album is a journal of a young lunatic. It is depressing.
90. ROBBIE ROBERTSON (self-titled) (1987)
I can't believe the world waited 10 years for this steaming three-coiler of slick self-indulgence. I will misquote Rick Danko when he referred to the Band becoming "4 guys and an asshole". (It may have been prick.) Buy this album, hear Robbie pucker!
89. HUSKER DU Warehouse: Songs and Stories (1987)
This album and anything by REM led me to avoid all things tagged as "indie" for over a decade. Should be called "Ouhouse".
88. U2 War (1983)
Let the whiny self-righteous poseurific pomposity, already begun, increase. Who knew Bono was going to save us from ourselves? Indeed.
87. SUPERTRAMP Crisis? What Crisis? (1975)
Pick an album, any album, by these guys and test it for doneness. Half-baked MOR nonsense.
86. CROSBY STILLS NASH & YOUNG Dallas Taylor & Greg Reeves DEJA VU (1970?)
Why don't we name this band after each of us. We're stars, man!
Yeah, and let's put the session men's names in the band name too, 'cause they're totally cool... but smaller, because they aren't as ascendant as us. And Garcia. And Sebastian. Yeah, they're cool too, and they must play like, ..., 16 bars each... fuck 'em.
Let's name the album after the guy who sold us the schnee! Cut me a line. And another. And another. And another.
Oh, what pompous and overblown twaddle, from pompous overblown twits, is this. Teach your children well: BURN THIS RECORD!
85. THE FUGS It Crawled Into My Hand, Honest (1968)
Not even the album title can save these guys from sounding like angry stoned college boys. There may have been a time and place for that, mind you (like when I fit the description, maybe), but I am not sure it required the application of these sounds to vinyl. I'm pretty sure it didn't.
84. GENESIS A Trick of the Tail (1976)
WHAT was I thinking? This band sucked. Mike and the Mechanics sucked. Phil Collins sucks. I haven't even heard the other projects by the former members but I imagine they suck too. Peter Gabriel is pretty close to sucking too but I think he got out of this band just in time. This album is the aural equivalent of cooked noodles. Noodle noodle noodle.
All right. in the next album-related post I will make myself all vulnerable and such by identifying albums I actually own, like, and am unafraid to identify as such.
No baby news other than my deep anxiety is channeling itself into record reviews. Unleash your inner music critic! (or Onan, whatever.)
Speaking of wanking, I was, and remain to a certain extent, a fan of what has been referred to as 'progressive rock.' I believe this moniker is intended to refer to the practitioners trapped in this pigeon-hole tending to play in unusual (read: undanceable) time signatures and to compose lengthy songs, suites, row houses, or condominia wherein they describe Frodo being buggered by an Orc, or something possibly more clever than that. In any event I admit to owning many (too many) records made by prog-rock bands from the 70's and even some of their solo and spin-off projects. It is fortunate that the latter efforts were made so I can keep the one-album-per-act thing going, because, I will admit against interest, I still enjoy some of the albums I own by the said 70's acts. (Go ahead, Crouton Boy, lay it on me.)
Without further ado, the last ten records for the purpose of this list which I own and hate but used to love, or at least liked, or thought I would like for some reason but was horribly wrong.
95. JEFFERSON AIRPLANE Surrealistic Pillow (1967)
The sign of things to come. Lame opportunism disguised as psychedelia. If this album is, in point of fact, what San Fran is built upon, I suggest everyone move far away from there.
94. CHRIS SQUIRE Fish Out of Water (1975)
I loved Yes. All it took was ignoring the lyrics and then it was simple. I thought, gee, I like the band. I'll bet I'd like this album. I thought wrong.
93. ROBERT FRIPP THE LEAGUE OF GENTLEMEN The League of Gentlemen (1981)
I thought very highly of Mr. Fripp until I listened to this album.
92. McDONALD AND GILES (self-titled) (1971)
Wow, the half of the King Crimson line-up which produced 'In the Court of the Crimson King'? I can't believe my fortune in locating this hard to find nugget of prog-history! It... it... it... sucks.
91. SYD BARRETT The Madcap Laughs (1969?)
Wow, the genius behing Floyd's greatest album produced a solo album, after those bastards kicked him out of the band HE CREATED, saying he was erratic? He's a genius! I'll bet this album is great. I'll bet he proved them wrong.
Again, I lose the bet. I know there are those who romanticize this man as some kind of Byronesque figure and I used to count myself as one of them. The fact remains: he's nuts. There is nothing glorious or romantic about being in that predicament. This album is a journal of a young lunatic. It is depressing.
90. ROBBIE ROBERTSON (self-titled) (1987)
I can't believe the world waited 10 years for this steaming three-coiler of slick self-indulgence. I will misquote Rick Danko when he referred to the Band becoming "4 guys and an asshole". (It may have been prick.) Buy this album, hear Robbie pucker!
89. HUSKER DU Warehouse: Songs and Stories (1987)
This album and anything by REM led me to avoid all things tagged as "indie" for over a decade. Should be called "Ouhouse".
88. U2 War (1983)
Let the whiny self-righteous poseurific pomposity, already begun, increase. Who knew Bono was going to save us from ourselves? Indeed.
87. SUPERTRAMP Crisis? What Crisis? (1975)
Pick an album, any album, by these guys and test it for doneness. Half-baked MOR nonsense.
86. CROSBY STILLS NASH & YOUNG Dallas Taylor & Greg Reeves DEJA VU (1970?)
Why don't we name this band after each of us. We're stars, man!
Yeah, and let's put the session men's names in the band name too, 'cause they're totally cool... but smaller, because they aren't as ascendant as us. And Garcia. And Sebastian. Yeah, they're cool too, and they must play like, ..., 16 bars each... fuck 'em.
Let's name the album after the guy who sold us the schnee! Cut me a line. And another. And another. And another.
Oh, what pompous and overblown twaddle, from pompous overblown twits, is this. Teach your children well: BURN THIS RECORD!
85. THE FUGS It Crawled Into My Hand, Honest (1968)
Not even the album title can save these guys from sounding like angry stoned college boys. There may have been a time and place for that, mind you (like when I fit the description, maybe), but I am not sure it required the application of these sounds to vinyl. I'm pretty sure it didn't.
84. GENESIS A Trick of the Tail (1976)
WHAT was I thinking? This band sucked. Mike and the Mechanics sucked. Phil Collins sucks. I haven't even heard the other projects by the former members but I imagine they suck too. Peter Gabriel is pretty close to sucking too but I think he got out of this band just in time. This album is the aural equivalent of cooked noodles. Noodle noodle noodle.
All right. in the next album-related post I will make myself all vulnerable and such by identifying albums I actually own, like, and am unafraid to identify as such.
posted by p-man at 7:27 a.m.
5 Comments:
Have you ever noticed that Robbie Robertson even looks a bit like a penis? Maybe I'm just projecting, but I think its the hair.
Best to you and mo-wo. Here's hoping that future music lover of your's arrives soon.
Wow.
just....wow
I knew a guy high school who inhaled that prog-rock stuff in all its forms. Some good, some...yeah, you already explained it.
Again, you and I differ on a few of these items, but on the other hand I never shell out money for a Chris Squire album.
And HIGH FIVE for calling out Surrealistic Pillow for the garbage it is.
I will never view Mr. R. the same way.
I haven't even touched on the numerous Bill Bruford solo projects in my possession. They won't make any list other than the "Not Worthy of Making a Best or Worst of List" list.
Your blog title, your ears, your aesthetic feeling if any at all, and your wittiness if any at all, suck. So you suck all over.
You must be a grocer or something. Better give your comp to charity & go sell your onions fella.
Wow...
You suck...
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