21 May 2010

Hero Worship

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music” – Aldous Huxley


Regular readers know that music (and all that it entails) is a favorite subject of mine. It touches us in so many ways. It doesn’t matter what type of music you enjoy; that you enjoy it is what’s important. It is one of only a very few things that has a truly universal appeal, and (cue ascending grandiose symphonic fanfare) I daresay it is, in the big picture, humankind’s crowning achievement. As I said, it doesn’t matter what kind you like. We probably won’t agree on artists, but hopefully we will on the art part and how it works for us. Besides, it’s my essay and it’s gonna go my way. So there.

When I was in the third grade, I got a birthday present that changed my life. It was wrapped in light blue paper, but I knew what it was before I opened it. I knew it was a record, an album, an LP. We weren’t even allowed to touch my parents’ LP records (I think they had less than 10), and here in my hands was ONE OF MY VERY OWN. I was, in a word, ecstatic. I didn’t even know who the artist was. It didn’t matter. It was mine.

The record turned out to be Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out”. I had never heard anything like it, ever. It was about as alien a thing as I could imagine, and I loved it. I played it continuously on a green plastic record player that had STEREO speakers on the sides when it wasn’t disguised as a suitcase (or something). It provided hours and hours of entertainment and, believe it or not, it expanded my vocabulary farther and faster than any book I’d read to date. I remember asking my mother what a “lifer” in a state penitentiary was. Good times.

My early discovery of Alice Cooper’s music might seem trivial and just plain dumb, but that’s OK, because I know it to be far more significant. Alice Cooper (the group, the image) touched my life in so many ways. As a young and impressionable pre-teen I found not just the music, but the entire spectacle really helped me to make sense of the world. How? For starters, in the third grade, where everything is either hilarious or devastatingly embarrassing, I was able to show my grandmothers pictures of Alice and the band, bathed in green light and serenading snakes. I’ll never forget watching them either squeal with revulsion or start away in disgust. I knew they’d hate it, and that’s what made doing it so (as Alice would say) delicious! I was closer to the people I loved, and Alice Cooper was the catalyst.

We eventually moved far enough away from grandparents that we didn’t see them nearly as often. My father worked for a grocery store chain as a buyer, and as you might guess, suppliers wanted to make my dad the buyer happy, so they offered a lot of different perks, not the least of which was the coolest thing EVER: free concert tickets. Yeah. If you were in high school in the 70’s, long before videos, concerts were the epitome of good times. With prices as high as seven dollars, free tickets were a godsend.

I was hanging around with a new friend (acquaintance, really) and some of HIS friends in the new city, and feeling rather out of place. I didn’t really know anyone, and I remember being stoned and part of a conversation that was as vapid as could be. I was just going to get up and leave when someone across the room mentioned Alice Cooper. Nobody there knew my dad could get free concert tickets, and it just so happened that I had tickets to go see Alice Cooper. I started talking to the guy, and in one of those awe-inspiring moments, I could see that like me, Alice Cooper had really touched his life. After just a few minutes, I told him about tickets, and he was just all cool with that, to put it mildly. It’s been thirty-plus years since that conversation started, and it has never ended.

I tell this story because I happen to be in Phoenix and I visited “Cooper’sTown” (I don’t think I have to say who owns it) sports bar and grill last weekend. I felt like a kid in a candy store, and I wished my buddy, the best friend I ever had was there so we could soak in the exquisite joy of being in the (sort of) presence of a shared idol. I could go on, but I’ll just say that I think I got what I went for. I got the chance to have a couple drinks, bought some trinkets, and I got to reflect for a bit on the idea of Alice Cooper having had a lifelong effect on me. I could probably write this essay for the rest of my life and still not scratch the surface of what I want to say.

Since I started this blog, my title and opening blurb have always acknowledged my admiration of the Alice Cooper thing. I have no greater tribute. Thanks to Vincent, Dennis, Glenn, Michael and Neal. You helped me scare my grandmothers and you helped me to know who my best friend would be. You guys rock.



We Rock

I had a couple different blurbs I was thinking about to go along with my Alice Cooper piece, but decided I would write a few words about Ronnie James Dio who died this week. My favorite description of him was “the little man with the big voice”. He was indeed small in stature, but he was immeasurably large in appeal. There are many who might not know who he was, but there are literally millions who do. Very few can claim such acclaim.

“…the less that you give, you’re a taker…”

06 May 2010

Coupla Blurbs

Lose Your Lunch




Some asshole stole part of my lunch yesterday. The motive, I guess, is irrelevant, but I found myself hoping that I never feel the need to rummage through random lunch bags at work. To be fair, I have put (what I was told was) food in my mouth without knowing for sure that I was being told the truth. Many times, I have been surprised at how much I liked it. And a few times, I have had to excuse myself quickly. I tried a stuffed grape leaf once, courtesy of a co-worker from Bethlehem. I’ve never had a turd in my mouth before, so I don’t know what they taste like, but I’m pretty sure they couldn’t taste any worse. At least I tried it.

It’s one thing to try something new, and it’s quite another to surf strangers’ lunches in a factory refrigerator. Ever seen the internet picture of the guy and his girl sitting on a couch, smiling and carrying on their normal daily routine, unaware that there’s a huge jar of anal lube on the coffee table? (Here it is) Yeah, I figure it’s his spaghetti in the back. And that veggie tray? I think that belongs to the girl with the painted-on eyebrows who looks a lot like Morticia Addams would if she weighed three hundred pounds. I’ll eat tacos out of a truck any day. If I see a sign that says “Meat on a Stick”, I’ll probably try it. It would never occur to me to eat a stranger’s leftovers. Ugh.

Get What You Need?



I was standing in a checkout line at a grocery store the other day, and in front of me was a woman with a small child whose head must have been on a swivel. Her eyes led her neck, which darted from the cornucopia of candy (placed at child-eye level) to her mother, wordlessly pleading. I was pleasantly surprised that there was no wailing. I think that’s what made it so riveting. And as I stood there, I thought to myself that anyone with eyes could see through that kid and know that there was one, and only one thing on her mind: Butterfinger. A big one. I know that look. I know that feeling.

The mom utterly ignored the child’s mute plea. The child knew that a big Butterfinger was not in her immediate future, and to her, that meant she’ll never get one, ever!

Childish, yes, but I know that feeling too.

We always want what we can’t have, don’t we? Be it a candy bar or a car, an ice cream or a lottery hit, young or old, we all want what we know we have no chance of getting. We try, though, yes we do. It doesn’t matter if we’re using cow eyes to get a candy bar or flowers to get a girl; we reason that it would be perfectly rational to jump through flaming hoops over a bed of nails to get that thing we want, all the while knowing our efforts are futile. I don’t have any wise words to explain why we do it. I do know that the child I saw in the store will more than likely perform the same act at the next store, hoping for a different result. I hope she finds what she’s looking for. One of these days, maybe…

03 May 2010

Don't Face the Music


Just recently, I’ve seen postings here and there (OK, on Facebook) for videos of so and so’s favorite song of the moment. I can’t begrudge them because they want to share a song that’s important to them at the time they posted it, but I still have a big problem with it. Not the intent, but the medium. I have a problem with videos and the glut of current popular musical artists in general. I don’t care what you look like, I don’t care who you’re married to, and wads of cash flashed in pictures of ridiculously opulent houses do nothing to convince me that I should spend my money on your “art”. Music is for my ears, not my eyes. Move me first with your talent, and if I’m interested enough, I’ll find a picture of you. Otherwise, I don’t care about you.


Am I a grumpy old coot? Maybe. Hear me out.

I must confess that I myself have sent out mass emails in a more than half drunken state, fully convinced that everyone who listens to the song will interpret it as I do at that moment. They will see the sheer wisdom and beauty that it evoked for me, and we will be blissfully united by the most imaginative of man’s feats. Of course, once I sober up, I realize that at least half of the recipients probably didn’t listen to it, and if they did, they didn’t have an epiphany. But I never sent a video, just the song. I wanted my contacts to listen.

The problem with video is that once you see it, you will always associate that song with the images that the video director wants you to see. By way of example, Tom Petty has a song called “Don’t Come Around Here No More”, and the video for it consists of the band members costumed as Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass” characters, who end up slicing Alice (who has somehow become a giant cake) into pieces for dessert. If I had simply heard the song, I probably would never have thought of Alice, because it doesn’t say a thing about her. I don’t get it. What does Alice in Wonderland have to do with the singer admonishing a former lover to stay away? I guess with some imaginative license a parallel can be drawn, but I prefer to let my imagination reveal what the song has to say, not someone else’s. I always kind of liked the song, but once I saw the video, every single time I hear that song I see nothing but Alice the Cake getting cut up.

Somebody close to me said not long ago, that when you first fall in love, it seems like every love song was written with you in mind, and when you’re in the midst of a breakup, every sad song was written with you in mind as well. When I was younger, before videos, having a radio playing was a given no matter what the activity of the day was, be it work or home or school (yes, we used to be able to bring records in on Fridays and play them). If you were lucky enough to find some time alone, sitting around blowing your eardrums with Princess Leia-like headphones was the ultimate pastime. It was, IS, the greatest escape from real life. I still get giddy sometimes when I listen to my favorite songs, because whether they make me happy or sad, they help me to understand me, and that, my friends, will work for you too.

The true magic of music is that the same song can have completely different meanings when heard at different times. If you haven’t laughed and cried to the same song, you’re missing something, because it is your mood that sets the imagination stage, not what a director thinks it should be. There are enough people in your life that want to tell you what to think or do or say. Don’t believe them. My advice is, if you want to listen to music, LISTEN to it, don’t watch it, because you’ll never see yourself if you’re looking through someone else’s eyes.