As the year comes to a close, I have been trying to come up with a list in my head of the best albums of 2010. The hard part was trying to come up with 10 good albums, which I have fallen short. This has been the worst year for music I have ever seen. However, 2011 is shaping up to be a good year for music with anticipated releases from Cake and Radiohead, as well as others.
So, for the benefit of those who humor me by reading these random brain dumps, here is a list of pretty much all the albums I could think of this year that were good. (In no particular order due to the fact that I have not the motivation to organize this list, and also, top 10 lists are kind of lame if it isn't David Letterman doing them).
1. American VI - Ain't No Grave - Johnny Cash -
2. West Coast Seattle Boy - Jimi Hendrix
3. Brothers - The Black Keys
4. Mojo - Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers
5. Band of Joy - Robert Plant
6. Emotion and Commotion - Jeff Beck
7. Thank You Mr. Churchill - Peter Frampton
8. Brian Wilson Imagines Gershwin - Brian Wilson
9. You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples
10. Vacant.
This year was great for archival releases (Cash, Hendrix), as well as releases from the reliable (Beck, Frampton, Plant, Keys, Petty, Staples), and musical genius, Brian Wilson.
Taylor Swift, Katy Perry and that Beiber kid should be ashamed of themselves.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Lyrical poetry brought to you via copy and paste
I started writing this little faux-folk ditty about a year ago. Unfortunately, I lost the original lyrics, so this is a remake. Basically, it's a song satirizing local music scenes, and the hanger-ons who serve no purpose but to be lampooned and/or lambasted by me.
Hanger-On Blues by Mark S. Johnson (the italicized explanation version)
Re-written on 4-24-10, 4-25-10 edited for political-incorrectness on 11-30-10
(chorus)
Hanger-on’s, they ain’t too funny
Hanger-on’s they cost too much money
Hanger-on’s they are quite scary
Hanger-on’s they killed Jerry
(Jerry Garcia from the Grateful Dead)
(verse)
Me and 3 of my buddies decided to start a rock band
We learned our favorite 5 songs (sort-of)
And while we played them out of tune and off key,
We just called it our own twist.
We got our first gig at the Polish Toboggan
And played our 5 songs, as well as 3 originals to an audience of 5
(4 males and 1 female for those keeping score at home)
We had their faux-intellectual wheels a turnin’.
By the end of the night, we had them in the palms of our hands, while they insisted that the drinks be on us.
We came back the same time the following week and played to our loyal 5 as well as 15 of their closest friends (12 guys, and 3 girls along with the 4 guys and 1 girl, which gets us 16 guys and 4 girls for those who are really interested in the male/female ratio of our fans).
At the end of the night, we spent our gig money to buy them drinks.
It was the least we could do with our O.G. fans.
We got a gig across town, and we (to the insistence of our 20 fans) borrowed our bass player’s mom’s minivan and gave them rides.
Again, it was the least we could do.
We owed them. They had been with us since day 1, and day 8 accordingly.
Weeks went by, and we got invited to Dingleberry fest. We hired the promoter to be in our band so we could headline the thing.
Then we took our 3 favorite cover/bar bands, formed sub-bands, and had a total of 15 bands playing the same 5 songs.
All 15 bands, consisting of the same 20 people played our 5 cover songs, and at the end of the night, we had a keyboard player named “contraceptive” who brought all 12 of his kids and their friends to the festival.
We had two backup singers named “Flower” and “Irony.” They were drunk and off-key, but they made us feel like we were a supergroup.
We also had two jaw-harp players. (we didn’t plug them in. they just stood there and posed).
(If you haven't heard "I Know You Rider" with an air jaw-harp solo, you ain't lived, my friends.)
And making up the front row was a “tobacco use only” pipe maker named Stink Pickle, and a guy with a Dashiki who was a self-proclaimed unique individual who went by the name Cliche. He liked all of the bands, no matter how much they sounded alike.
Well, the festival ended, and we all made 1 dollar each. The promoter spent 300 dollars on the festival, but we only sold two tickets, so the bands each kept a dollar, and the promoter took the remaining 5 and skipped town.
5 more festivals came and went to the same amount of success. Then we decided to make Dingleberry fest a “private” event.
Unfortunately, we couldn’t fool the people again, and nobody bought a ticket. We were certain the 250 dollar price would let people know how exclusive it was.
Then things really started getting bad.
Our guitar player, Vasectomy, had 12 baby mama’s and they started wanting their share of the band’s profits.
Irony and Flower (our backup singers) left to try their luck in a bar band three counties over.
Our two jaw harp players (who can’t be named due to contractual obligations) left to go tour with Sigfried and Roy.
Our bass player, Lil Pants Too Big, left to join a little-people version of a Vanilla Ice tribute band. (No dwarves or midgets were harmed, I promise).
Our keyboard player, contraceptive, wound up getting a large case of the crabs and opened a seafood restaurant. (What did you think I meant by crabs? Weirdo)
Our drummer looked in the mirror and realized he was white. He’s still in therapy.
As for me, I am left telling this story. I picked up the pieces and carried on.
I play solo shows now to an audience of 2 busboys, 1 cashier, and a bartender in between washing loads of dishes.
I can’t even get Cliche and Stink Pickle to come to my shows, much less return my phone calls. They are busy petitioning for a Milli Vanilli reunion. (No one has the heart to tell them that one of them has passed, nor do they know whether it's Milli or Vanilli who survives for that matter).
Nothing to show for it except for a chorus that goes as follows:
Hanger-on’s, they ain’t too funny
Hanger-on’s they cost too much money
Hanger-on’s they are quite scary
Hanger-on’s they killed Jerry
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Run. Johnson. Run.
After intense password resetting procedures, I have finally regained access to my blog. Now I pledge to update this blog at least once an every time I feel like it.
Today's subject will be commentary about my new found hobby of walk/jog/run (with the emphasis on walk, in hopes that the jog/run come in abundance later on).
As I have told people before, it is quite addicting. The outside air, the music playing through my ear buds, the almost euphoric feeling afterward of literally going the extra mile (or two or three), the feeling during the jogging part when I reach the point where I have tuned out everything except for my eyes and feet, and the feeling of accomplishment. It's so good it even leads me to writing run-on fragments.
(for all those flatulence joke enthusiasts, there's one coming up soon. For those who are offended, or have no time for such low-brow humor, my condolences).
But anyway, I try to mix things up a bit by going to different places, going out at different times, etc. while being in the company of "them." Who are "them?" "Them" is a group made up of people who are annoying, entertaining, socially unacceptable, or just funny to write about. The following is a list of the most common "them" I encounter at the track or trail.
1. The "try once and never do it again" jogger. -One who gets on a sudden fitness kick and quits after realizing it actually requires work. Example: I was out on the local walking track and saw some pot bellied gentleman pull up on a moped. He proceeded to peel off his shirt, throw it on the ground and start running. After about 1/32nd of a mile, he was in a hacking, wheezing fit. I don't think he even made it around the 1-mile track all the way.
2. The "choreographed routine walkers." - They are the ones who have this peculiar way they walk. These are usually women. When they walk, they have their elbows parallel to the ground, while bent at a 90 degree angle with their hands facing forward. When they walk, they tend to do sort of a hip-swivel thing. They usually walk with partners and make one-syllable words into two-syllable words (i.e. - there = they-ure, well = way-ull). Due to a habit of minding my own business and having ear buds in, I don't hear their conversation, but am prone to believing that they are gossiping about someone or something.
3. The "Bill Dautreve" - This is just one person. He's a dude at a trail that I walk on who tries to pick up women. He'll walk really slow and when he sees a woman walking or jogging along, he'll walk with her and try to start a conversation. It beats all I've ever seen (in an outside walking environment anyway). The women who are running, he tends to avoid.
4. The "smugs" - These are the ones who go to their local sporting goods store and spend way too much money on their hobby. They are the ones who look at us beginners with contempt as we walk on their tracks or trails. I mostly encounter these people when I'm at intermediate trails. I enjoy encountering them mainly because before I hit one of those trails, I consume a Clif bar which gives me the incredible ability to pass gas on command, which I like to use in the company of "smugs." Before you condemn me for such an action, I give them the benefit of the doubt and give them a nod before passing. If the nod is returned, they are safe. If the nod is met by a turn up of the nose, they face my immature wrath.
5. The "inconsiderate slobs" - These are the ones who walk their dogs while smoking cigarettes. They also let their dogs poop on the trail which is really annoying. I ignore them, but secretly complain about them in blogs.
These people make my time on the walking path more interesting, and I actually appreciate them (save the slobs). But with the weather getting cold, I don't see too many of "them." Either way, this walk/jog/run hobby is starting to look like a gateway to a membership to the Y
Today's subject will be commentary about my new found hobby of walk/jog/run (with the emphasis on walk, in hopes that the jog/run come in abundance later on).
As I have told people before, it is quite addicting. The outside air, the music playing through my ear buds, the almost euphoric feeling afterward of literally going the extra mile (or two or three), the feeling during the jogging part when I reach the point where I have tuned out everything except for my eyes and feet, and the feeling of accomplishment. It's so good it even leads me to writing run-on fragments.
(for all those flatulence joke enthusiasts, there's one coming up soon. For those who are offended, or have no time for such low-brow humor, my condolences).
But anyway, I try to mix things up a bit by going to different places, going out at different times, etc. while being in the company of "them." Who are "them?" "Them" is a group made up of people who are annoying, entertaining, socially unacceptable, or just funny to write about. The following is a list of the most common "them" I encounter at the track or trail.
1. The "try once and never do it again" jogger. -One who gets on a sudden fitness kick and quits after realizing it actually requires work. Example: I was out on the local walking track and saw some pot bellied gentleman pull up on a moped. He proceeded to peel off his shirt, throw it on the ground and start running. After about 1/32nd of a mile, he was in a hacking, wheezing fit. I don't think he even made it around the 1-mile track all the way.
2. The "choreographed routine walkers." - They are the ones who have this peculiar way they walk. These are usually women. When they walk, they have their elbows parallel to the ground, while bent at a 90 degree angle with their hands facing forward. When they walk, they tend to do sort of a hip-swivel thing. They usually walk with partners and make one-syllable words into two-syllable words (i.e. - there = they-ure, well = way-ull). Due to a habit of minding my own business and having ear buds in, I don't hear their conversation, but am prone to believing that they are gossiping about someone or something.
3. The "Bill Dautreve" - This is just one person. He's a dude at a trail that I walk on who tries to pick up women. He'll walk really slow and when he sees a woman walking or jogging along, he'll walk with her and try to start a conversation. It beats all I've ever seen (in an outside walking environment anyway). The women who are running, he tends to avoid.
4. The "smugs" - These are the ones who go to their local sporting goods store and spend way too much money on their hobby. They are the ones who look at us beginners with contempt as we walk on their tracks or trails. I mostly encounter these people when I'm at intermediate trails. I enjoy encountering them mainly because before I hit one of those trails, I consume a Clif bar which gives me the incredible ability to pass gas on command, which I like to use in the company of "smugs." Before you condemn me for such an action, I give them the benefit of the doubt and give them a nod before passing. If the nod is returned, they are safe. If the nod is met by a turn up of the nose, they face my immature wrath.
5. The "inconsiderate slobs" - These are the ones who walk their dogs while smoking cigarettes. They also let their dogs poop on the trail which is really annoying. I ignore them, but secretly complain about them in blogs.
These people make my time on the walking path more interesting, and I actually appreciate them (save the slobs). But with the weather getting cold, I don't see too many of "them." Either way, this walk/jog/run hobby is starting to look like a gateway to a membership to the Y
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