Michael Jackson has moon-walked out of the building!
 
Like many other cynical mofo critical critics out there, I've got my share of mixed feelings about perhaps our strangest (but no denying talented and entertaining) American icon dying from an apparent longtime addiction to painkillers.  Yes, MJ has to be the strangest.  You want proof?  Try being the proud owner of the following:  Elephant-Man's bones, hyperbolic oxygen chamber, life-sized androids, exotic jungle animals and children's amusement-park rides.  Why would a man of 50 have these things in his collection?  The latter items (robots, creatures and kids' rides) because the guy who most of the world placed on a God-like pedestal was an incredibly lonely, insecure man-child who just wanted to be loved.  He lived in a place called Neverland Ranch where he could fancy himself Peter Pan.  The former items because, let's face it, he was a freak.
 
When Michael was a mere large-afro'ed, groovy-clothed lad in the Jackson 5, he knocked our sox off working his adult James Brown dance moves and emotionally charged voice.  But by now we're all aware that the group's controlling, angry prick of a father brutally beat--and probably molested--a few of his own children, so Michael definitely never had what you'd call an "ideal" childhood.  Fucked-up, at best, from that kind of abuse.  The boy was damaged goods and that's painfully sad when you really think about it.  His own mother just let this shit happen and will forever live in denial that anything was wrong in her (f'ed up!) "loving, perfect family."  It's no wonder why Michael wanted to distance himself from his parents; wouldn't you?!
 
If the troubled young man had someone looking out for him (Berry Gordy, Diana Ross, etc.) who sought out serious therapy for him, the screwed-up pop idol might not have written or performed so powerfully.  Instead, he took comfort in Demerol and Oxycontin to try to kill the horrors of his life.  But, without those emotional demons--deep anger and sorrow--would his onstage performances and recordings be that intense?  The drugs only temporarily squashed them, but he held on to those demons and used them to fuel the fire in everything upon a stage or studio.
 
I wasn't a fan of "Thriller" and his disco-era material, but nobody can deny the talent he displayed throughout all his catalog.  I dug the Jackson 5, and a young Michael's solo recording about a killer rat named "Ben."  The song was written for the soundtrack of a B-horror movie by the same name.  The heart & soul that the teenaged Jackson sank into this tune dedicated to vermin is beautiful--and poignant enough to've made the cut for my wife's and my wedding CD.  (And check out Crispin Hellion Glover's video version of the song used to promote the rat-infested remake of "Willard," the prequel to "Ben."  It's definitely not as cool as Jackson's, but it's worth your attention).
 
A friend of mine recently posted some of Michael's mid-1990's lyrics to a song that speaks volumes--yep, it's called "Morphine":

He got flat baby
Kick in the back baby
A heart attack baby
I need your body

A hot kiss honey
He's just a bitch baby
You make me sick baby
So unrelying ...

A hot buzz baby
He's one of us baby
Another drug baby
You so desire

Trust in me Trust in me
Put all your trust in me
Your're doin' morphine

Hoo!

They got place baby
Kicked in the face baby
You hate your race baby
You're just a liar ...

Always to please daddy
Right up and leave daddy
You´re throwing shame daddy
So undesirable

Trust in me Just in me
Put all your trust in me
You're doin' morphine

Go'on babe

Relax
This won´t hurt you
Before I put it in
Close your eyes and count to 10
Don't cry
I won't convert you
There´s no need to dismay
Close your eyes and drift away

Demerol
Demerol
Oh god he's taking Demerol
Demerol
Demerol
Oh god he's taking Demerol

He's tried
Hard to convince her
To be over what he had
Today he wants twice as bad
Don't cry
I won't resent you
Yesterday you had his trust
Today he's taking twice as much

Demerol
Demerol
Oh god he's taking Demerol
Hee-hee-hee
Demerol
Demerol
Oh god he's taking Demerol
Hee
Oooh

OH!!!!! ...

Hoooo! ...

Hoo-Hoo!
I'm going down baby
You're takin' Morphine

Go'on baby!
Hoo!
Hoo!
Morphine!
Do it!
Hoo!
He's takin' morphine
Morphine!
Morphine!!

I know ... damn, right?  That's pretty raw.

After the news hit, I found out, much to my surprise, that one of my wife's ex-boyfriends (who runs his own private-jet company) flew MJ to certain destinations.  On hearing of Jackson's death, he didn't have flattering words:  "Knew him. Flew him. Scumbag, pedophile, drug addict, alcoholic, freak. Good fucking riddance.  When he shows up way down south, I only hope Lucifer says, 'Where the fuck is yer nose??? I paid for that!!!!'  Rot in Hell, "Thriller"."
 
The troubled (was anyone in that family NOT?!) Jackson--like father, like son--was probably laying his hands on small boys and that's not cool.  Actors Corey Feldman and Macauley Culkin should've "beat it" as fast as their little legs could run when Michael took a liking to their cute, boyish looks.  MJ was quoted to say he really loved Culkin's bee-sting lips--and soon got his own done to resemble the "Home Alone" tyke.  But, no matter what accusations were made involving his "spotted penis," the millions of adoring fans loved that crazy dude.

What will be the backlash of MJ's death?  There have been at least a few fathers of small children that I know exclaim, "It's a very good day.  With Michael Jackson dead, all the children of the world are safe!"  Despite those out there who are pleased that one more (alleged) pedophile is gone, there are a zillion more fans who are cleaning out the Michael Jackson CD sections across the nation, and the globe.  And, sometimes, those people are one and the same: my wife's ex quickly followed his scathing personal comments about MJ with, "On the other hand, I enjoyed much of his music."

Musicians like Alien Ant Farm (with their remake of "Smooth Criminal") and Weird Al Yankovic (with his numerous parodies) will gain another 15 minutes of fame from Jackson's death.  But is that a bad or good thing?

The bottom line is this: Michael Jackson touched a lot of people's hearts ... and a few people's parts.    

Unlike the millions of fans mourning Michael Jackson, my thoughts are with Sky Saxon. In this multi-dimensional universe we live in--it is often the obscure and obtuse moment(s)undocumented by the masses which affects us in the most profound of ways. Let me explain:

I did'nt discover Sky Saxon & the Seeds by being the studious record collector I am. I discovered the Seeds by chance and learned to love them by circumstance. The year was 1967 and I was living in Lahore West Pakistan(while in the  8^th and 9^th grade). This was before the area was marred by muslim terrorism and Taliban bullshit. In those days, Lahore was a sleepy 3^rd world backwater destination and for us American expatriates who lived there, our Mayberry (minus the conveniences). There was no TV and only a few houses had telephones that didn't even work half the time. The news was always 3 days old and if you were lucky, your short-wave radio might just might pull in the BBC for a minute or two. There was no peanut butter or chocolate milkshakes or record stores or sneakers or anything cool. We did have record players and Akai reel-to-reel tape recorders. And our American  school had 250 kids in grades 1-12. We were all tuned into the Beatles, Rolling Stones and Beach Boys, always looking for the next big thing. The only time we heard new music was in September when the new kids came over there from the states. Our group hung out at the Jones' house (they had a pool table)—two very popular brothers who set the scene for all of us.

The Summer of 1967 one of the gang Richard Shaw brought the 2 Seeds albums over to Duke Jones' house. The Seeds and Web of Sound. These records became the Jones brothers' favorite records and they played them ad nauseum. When we weren't shooting pool we were looking at the album jackets for hours. "Do you think you would grow your hair this long?" I wonder where this photo was taken"? We had arguments lasting hours what song was better-"Try to Understand" or "Can't seem to make you mine"(actually he same song) To us 9^th graders the Seeds were Gods.

Fast forward to 1974-I was at Georgetown University and was doing a radio show called "Mystic Eyes."  Lenny Kaye just released his compilation Nuggets-and the world was getting their first formal introduction to garage music. I played the Seeds—and If I may be so bold to say—I was playing "garage music" as a radio format light years before the thousands who now carry the torch. As a record collector, I became interested in the post Seeds "Discography" looking for "Little Richie Marsh doo-wop records" and willing to kill for the rare Seeds single "Love in a Summer Basket." My father recently died and his favorite Seeds song was "Faded Picture" which I pulled out and listened to in his honor.

Fast Forward to May 2009. I am having a dinner at my dear friend and radio co-host of yester-year Dr. Joe Sasy (the man behind all those Time-Life informercials you see at 3 AM!!) We talked about the upcoming Seeds tour and it was decided the good doctor would buy tickets for the local Birchmere show and my wife Nancy & I would spend the night there. We all thought-what a great fun way to spend an evening.

Fast Forward to the evening of June 26-I am bored at home and surfing the net. I see the headline "Singer Dies from Infection." Of course I click the link. A wave of sadness descends over my body. I didn't know what to do. I call "Duke" in Utah--a prominent dentist now --and still a very dear friend. The Secretary say's "can you hold and I will see if Dr. Jones can take your call." In the few seconds that I am waiting I think back to the Dukes' condom collection--all 120 brands he was so proud of and filled many up and used as lethal water balloons(but's that's another story). Duke jumps on the phone and says, "Hey Herc!" (my 7^th grade nickname) how are you?'" I tell him, "I am calling you because something very sad happened today." What? "Someone Died" Who? -your not calling me about "Farrah" are you Herc?" No Duke, Sky Saxon died today." A noticeable silence come sover the line..... "You know Herc, he was from Salt lake." I tell him, I know duke." " You know his real name was not Sky Saxon," No it was Richie Marsh--and he was probably a Mormon." "Yeah Herc, Marsh is a well known Mormon name, the Duke replies. We continued chatting making the same jokes we made in 8^th grade. Who would have ever thought we were 56 year old adults?  

In conclusion I have to say Sky Saxon's passing was sad and beginning of the realization that my Generation is entering the twilight of our lives. I was very upset with NPRfor not doing even a small story on Sky. Those holier-than-thou Ivy League  ectomorphs who pride themselves on the unique and forgotten news story--totally dropped the ball on this and this was a story that begged to be told. Instead, NPR was indistinguishable from Fox news in their coverage of Michael and Farrah. In their lame coverage of Michael, they even  forgot to mention the only cool thing Michael ever did was name his kid Blanket! But then again,  Sky talked to Dogs and played with Father Yod &  Yahowa 13.

Yes, it's a "Faded Picture,a picture of my childhood," RIP Sky.

Steve Lorber is a founding member of the Rock Institute- an organization started in the 70's to interdict and stop the export of rare American Rock and Roll records sold and smuggled to Europe. A life-long promoter of cassette technology and is currently working on a diet & philosophy book tentatively titled The Porky From New Yorky's Guide to Weight Loss and Positive Mental Health.     

Not unlike the rest of the world, Outlandos HQ has had Michael Jackson on perpetual replay. RIP the King.

1. Michael Jackson, Thriller



I'd forgotten what a monster album this was. I'd also forgotten [...]

A Triple-A radio programming veteran, Kate has served as Music Director of the Loft at XM, Midday Host at WYEP, Evening Host at both WNCS and WUIN, as well as Content Supervisor for Pump Audio. Currently, she's the CEO of Outlandos Music, a new-music discovery service for grown-ups. Kate has been nationally recognized for her ardent presentation of music and her ability to champion talented, compelling artists.

Yesterday's Ring

The divide between hardcore punk bands and acoustic cradling country crooners is growing narrower nowadays.  Avail's Tim Barry, Hot Water Music's Chuck Ragan and even Social Distortion's Mike Ness have all added a little Highwaymen outlaw vibe to their solo records of late.

Yesterday's Ring, comprised of a handful of members from Montreal's hardcore heroes the Sainte Catherines, prove even Canadian's aren't immune to power of the twang and a good drinking song.

Yesterday's Ring, lead by singer Hugo Mudie have just released their third full length (and first for Suburban Home Records) "Diamonds in the Ditch".
Hugo was kind enough to answer some questions recently about the new record, the future of the Sainte Catherines and why punk rockers can't say no to country records.

Prior to this band, you were known more for a harder punk rock sound. What made you decide to play alternative country?
We still play in our punk band the Sainte Catherines. We started to enjoy listening to softer music while on the road with the Sainte Catherines. Our old drummer really liked country and he kind of turned us on to it. It was perfect for driving through the south of the states.
 
So you haven't always had country music influences?
No I think it started around the year 2000 while on tour with the Sainte Catherines. But growing up my mom was a big fan of Kenny Rogers and John Denver and my dad was a into Springsteen and Dylan...I guess I got it from them also.


Do you approach writing songs for Yesterday's Ring any differently than the way you write and record Sainte Catherines' records? 
Yes, definitely. The Sainte Catherines is more of a collaborative effort. Yesterday's Ring is a band, but it's written more in the songwriter tradition, where someone from the band comes up with a song and we work around it.

There are actually a lot of punk rockers who have started writing more country and folk-influenced records (Tim Barry, Chuck Reagan, Frank Turner, etc.). What is so appealing about this type of music that it attracts so many former punks?
It's simple and heartfelt like punk rock but it's not so fucking loud (ha).


Are the audiences any different or the same punks who came to see you with the Sainte Catherines?
There are more girls at Yesterday's Ring shows and more NOFX fans at Sainte Catherines shows.

Do you still plan on writing and recording more albums with the Sainte Catherines?
We just started writing a new record for the Sainte Catherines. We are really excited about it. I think it's gonna be a lot catchier and rock than previous records.

What music have you been listening to lately?
Colin Moore, John Prine, K'Naan, Steve Earle, Dirty Tricks, Koriass and Lake Of Stew.


 

Not exactly an Ozzie & Harriet childhood...

By Coco Hames

Ricky Nelson's creamy version of Gene Pitney's "Hello Mary Lou" was one of my mom's lunchbox 45s, and that worn little case took up residence next to the bunk bed I shared with my little sister for a good portion of the '80s.  Tom Jones' "What's New, Pussycat?" and a gospel "One More River To Cross" were in there, too.  But I digress.

I liked Ricky Nelson's songs with the same ambivalent tolerance in the way I liked Davy Jones' slow numbers: inoffensive, playful singalongs.  Children like these things.  So when my older sister told me that Ricky Nelson had twin boys, and they had a pop song out, you can imagine how excited I was!  Then she showed me a picture of them, and I was just flat out confused.  I believe we all remember Matthew and Gunnar.  Gunnar.  However, this family name obviously carried some weight in the world, so when I was desperate for a parakeet, and my parents finally relented, I named him Nelson. 

Nelson was a bird.  And I have a long history with birds, and not a good one.  Basically they like to die in my hands.  Just last summer, whilst repairing my parents' porch after a Nor'easter tore through some of the screens and chucked patio furniture willy nilly, I lifted an overturned chair to find a little hummingbird, sitting very still.  He had to have been trapped under there for several days.  I didn't know what to do, or how to help him.  I picked him up and tried to take him outside, and his little heart was beating so fast in my hand, it was not a good sign.  I think he had a heart attack?  Well anyway, he died and I buried him and gave him a little grave marker from a potted plant.

And another time, we ALL heard the chirping in the fireplace, it was quite clear that a bird had her nest up in there somewhere, and the eggs had now hatched.  And I said, "Mom, you'd better take care of that."  And she said, "I know, I know."  But when we came back from tour a few weeks later, my parents were out of town, so Poni and Jem and I walked our luggage into the living room, exhausted, only to find DEAD BIRDS EVERYWHERE.  And if they weren't dead yet, they were SCREAMING.  And then WE were screaming!  And we had to get a GARBAGE BAG and pick them all up, and then the mama bird hid out in the upstairs bathroom for a day and spooked Jem big time!

One tried to live.  But he didn't have eyes.  Or a beak.  I named him Phoenix and tried to feed him Capri-Sun and saltines, but HE died, TOO!

Anyway, Nelson didn't die, but evidently you're supposed to get parakeet's wings clipped every so often, so that they don't fly away, and I think we were remiss in this maintenance activity, because one day, I was walking around the house with Nelson perched on my index finger (as I often had him do, because I love that scene in Disney's Sleeping Beauty, "I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream...") and all of a sudden, he immediately flew up into the air (he wasn't supposed to be able to fly, you see) and into the bathroom!  I chased after him, but he was so high up there, so I climbed onto the counter-top to try and reach him, but right as I got him in my hand, one of my feet went into the sink and I tripped, smashing Nelson against the mirror! 

He did NOT die, but we had to built a splint for one of his birdie legs out of a toothpick and medical tape, and then my mom gave him to our babysitter, because I obviously couldn't take care of him.

I also had a pig named Elvis Pigsley. 

*****

Blurt "co-co-editor" Coco Hames fronts The Ettes - Hames on guitar, Jem Cohen on bass and Poni Silver on drums - whose latest album Look At Life Again Soon (Take Root) is still a hot item, and they also have a new EP, Danger Is, released by Take Root and also available digitally, www.myspace.com/theettes), and a Dan Auerbach-produced limited-edition single. They recently completed recording sessions for their third full-length with Greg Cartwright (Reigning Sound) producing. Look for a release this fall.

I can't say this enough. Assume everyone's a lazy idiot. Make it as EASY AS POSSIBLE for me to find you. Make it as EASY AS POSSIBLE for me to care. Make it as EASY AS POSSIBLE for me to give you my money.

No matter what your business (musicians included), it's your job to go out and find fans. Assume that they otherwise won't find you. So while putting up a website is nice, who cares? It's nothing if you can't get people to GO TO IT and BUY YOUR SHIT. Newsletters, blogs, Twitter, Facebook, etc... if you're still pooh-poohing any of these, wake the fuck up (and then call me).

Because it's not enough to just get out there... you have to lure your fans in [...]

A Triple-A radio programming veteran, Kate has served as Music Director of the Loft at XM, Midday Host at WYEP, Evening Host at both WNCS and WUIN, as well as Content Supervisor for Pump Audio. Currently, she's the CEO of Outlandos Music, a new-music discovery service for grown-ups. Kate has been nationally recognized for her ardent presentation of music and her ability to champion talented, compelling artists.

A few weeks ago EIC Scott Crawford asked me if I was interested in writing an article or blog entry for BLURT. Since then I've thought about it and thought about it. There's so much I'd like to say. It always makes me think of Randy Newman's I Just Want You To Hurt Like I Do. "Rough, rough world... tough, tough world... you know..." 

We are in such a strange time in our relationship with the evolution between ourselves and what we create - technology, music, porn, junk and medicine, our culture at large; everything. It is beautiful what we're capable of. It's not always beautiful what we do. Somehow, any cultural balance seems simply gone. Capitalism and marketing has made the goal more important than the work. I don't pretend to understand all the details of what feels wrong about where we're at. But, something is wrong. 

Where is our culture when soda (pop culture) is more important than water (art)? Think about that. Is there even a hint of balance? I believe there should be, because art offers wisdom, sparks imagination, and confronts us with what is often our own story in our time from a different point-of-view. And to me, pop culture just seems to be leaning further towards the quick and the sensational, it's like a pill that's been so thoroughly researched that often it's just a precise missile designed to attack, but not inspire.

Recently a friend from Italy gave me a collection of poems by Wallace Stevens. Initially I didn't like it, because it felt like waking up in someone else's house. But upon a few sittings with the book it started opening up to me. One favorite poem turned into two then three. My life was enriched, engaged, spoken to. Might I suggest you read Description Without Place. Maybe it will speak to you, maybe it won't. But one thing is beyond debate, it is art. 

You see, there is a difference between art and entertainment. Art often needs to be digested, considered, felt and sometimes ruminated upon; entertainment is designed to engage. Each can be both. But more and more, entertainment alone dominates in a way that we can't fully comprehend the consequences of. At least not yet. Because it's my feeling that entertainment is on a march motivated by capitalism. Our music, our books, our technology and our films are all at the mercy of capitalism and they're being compromised for the sale rather than celebrated for the soul. Capitalism has no conscience. Art appeals to the better self in the struggle, it's complex and simple and rooted through where you were and where you're going. Art is humanity in an almost physical form to be shared via pictures or sound. Think about that. It's true. Yet sadly it seems, that more and more, our culture is celebrating entertainment and marketing as art. Meanwhile forgetting what art really is.

So, I opened my email this morning, and a woman named Pam sent me the stunning, beautiful and patient Ballad Of The American Arts by Wynton Marsalis. He nails it. And I am inspired and in awe. I could certainly say it no better, no smarter, no more thoroughly than Mr. Marsalis has. We have to take a stand for the arts. That's what BLURT and so many of US are trying to do. There is no reason pure art shouldn't be in competition, in balance, in contrast to the things that only have the skin and teeth of art, but not the soul. 

So here's the link, scroll down the page and you'll see the video of the Wynton Marsalis speech. It's masterful - earnest, funny, pure, sad and hopeful. Beautiful stuff.

http://www.americansforthearts.org/events/2009/aad/nhl09.asp

Matthew Ryan is an independent American singer/songwriter, producer and composer. He's released 11 records since 1997. He's currently working on a new one.

"The more you drive, the less intelligent you get". One of my favorite lines from the punk cult classic "Repo Man". Words to live by for me. Could be a few reasons why: a) Wrecking a High School Driver Ed vehicle into a guardrail while attempting to parallel park. b) miserably failing my motor vehilcle driving test (see: Driver Ed). c) flipping over on the back of a motorcycle. d) being a passenger of a camper Van that rolled over twice. or e) all of the above. At the ripe age of 47 I still don't drive or even own a driver's license. It's just not in the cards for me. And it's not like I haven't had many friends offer to help guide me on my way to the MVA. No thanks freinds. The way I have to look at the whole thing is: is the fact that I never could get parallel parking down my downfall or the upswing of my meager existence? I choose the second one because I get by okay without a license or a car. I have a little thing called ADHD that tends to get in the way of driving so believe me: the world is a far far safer place without this punk geezer on the roads.

A friend of mine who goes by the name The Reverend Frank love once told me "I think you're really smart not to drive because there are so many fucking psychos on the road". The Rev spent a large portion of his life in a state of stress being in a car. Well, that and being a guitarist in bands with me. I'd be a passenger in Frank's small car when someone on the road honked their horn and "Goddamnnnnit! Stop honking your fucking horn! I really fucking hate that! People in Michigan (The Rev's birthplace) never honk their horns!", Frank yelled in frustration. I'd say "Calm down man, your window is closed and they're not going to hear you". This kind of reaction happened fairly often when I was riding to someplace with my friend, Frank. It left me wondering why someone who would get so incredibly worked up every time they were at the wheel of a vehicle put themselves through such punishment. More reasons why I still don't drive.

Oh yeah, getting back to that "rolling over in a vehicle" thing I mentioned so casually earlier: This perhaps is my all-time biggest reason why I don't dig the thought of driving. One rainy afternoon in England my band Government Issue and our support act Bad Blood decided to visit Stonehenge. Who knew that after checking out the mighty Stonehenge we'd suffer a most horrible accident. "Come visit Merry old England! Play a handful of noisy memorable concerts! See the majestic Stonehenge! Take a bloody nasty spill in one of our fabulous British camper Vans!". And that's exactly what we did. The young driver from Bad Blood drove a tad too fast around a sharp turn of roadway and so we slid off the road rapidly on to the muddy ground and rolled over (Twice!) till the beat-up Van soon landed on all four wheels. Now I've always hated amusement park rides that other people love because I just do not enjoy being tossed about. They make me nauseous so that's no fun, right? This ride in the UK sucked! A few of my band members shot straight out the side windows landing on the ground with injuries. The poor young man behind the wheel went straight through the windshield and the rest of us got out with only cuts and scratches. We were all pretty lucky as it could've been a fatal one. I'm still a little shaky whenever I ride in a van. I think I'll just stick to taking the bus or maybe the subway. After all I am an underground rocker.    

John Stabb was the frontman for the legendary harDCore punk outfit Government Issue. When not blogging for BLURT, he currently serves as frontman for Sleeper Agent. Check them out at http://www.myspace.com/sleeperagentdc      

The recent shooting at the Holocaust Museum in D.C. had a lot of people, including myself, thinking "How does such an old guy live with so much hate inside him". You would think that after almost a century of life the dude would have learned to live and let live. That's how I was raised when it came to respecting people of different racial, ethnic and religious backgrounds. While I grew up in NY, my mother was from North Carolina and I got to spend some time in the South during  very  racially contentious times in the 60's. As a young boy my grandfather took me "across the tracks" to teach me to judge people by their character, not their color. He was blind, but more importantly he was color blind. My uncle Tom on the other hand was an entirely different animal.

He was an old stereotypical uneducated Tarheel farmer with overalls, a chaw of tobacco in his mouth, a coffee/spit can in hand, and hated everyone and everything. He lived with my Grandfather and had a "job" as a security guard at the Greensboro, Coliseum which they lived across the street from. You know, one of those 80+ year old coots who slept on a folding chair while a game or concert was going on.

One summer a friend and I hitchiked down to vist my Grandad and had a classic encounter with Uncle Tom. My friend Ray, who Tom called the "Eyetalian", walked into the house one afternoon and Tom was cussing under his breath... "I have to work tonight with a bunch of g-damn Ni****s jumpin' up and down at church and acting like they ate up with the dumb ass"....we asked him what he was talking about and he said that there was a big Ni**** Church Revival that night at the Coliseum and was bitchin' he had to go work it.

Later that afternoon Ray and I took a walk down High Point Road to get some Bar-B-Q....as we are walking past the Coliseum Ray points up, laughing his ass off, reading the marquee..."Tonight: Black Sabbath". As soon as we got back to the house we found Tom so we could tell him the news.... "Tom, it's not a church meeting, it's a rock band, BLACK SABBATH!....without missing a beat Tom started mumbling... "Goddamn long hair hippies smoking the pot and who knows what"!! Old dude was truly addicted to hate.

WikiPedia and Amazon and All Music Guide almost make this unnecessary, but for the record, I want to argue that the combo package of The Beach Boys Today! with Summer Days (And Summer Nights!!) [love those exclamations points-although I don't think the Beach Boys ever released an album with three (!!!) exclamation points in the title] [I do think, however, that is because of the Beach Boys' abuse of !  that I learned to do the same thing on my own writing-or maybe it was Mad).  Anyway, the point being that this remarkable CD combo, with some editing, still sends shivers down my backbone even though I have gone way way past the age counting-up fadeout on "When I Grow Up (To Be a Man)"....(they end it when they get into their twenties, of course).