DAVID THORPE

The Big Hurt: Earnest goes to camp

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 20:48:47 GMT

Plus baby comes from Clay and Bizkit defects to Manson
Hey: when the Verve play shows in America, they should start out their set with a cover of “The Freshman,” just so everyone’s like, “Wait a minute, I thought I had this shit figured out.”

GARY GLITTER, after years of captivity, has been released from a Vietnamese prison and returned to his homeland. But! Answer me this: why is JOHN MCCAIN lauded as a war hero while Gary Glitter is cast as a child molester? I won’t rest until this injustice is — oh, wait, because he has sex with kids.

Actual unaltered lyrics from the new OASIS single: “Love is a litany/A magical mystery.” I’ll bet you $50 that if you break into Noel’s house, you’ll see his Word-a-Day calendar still open to “Litany.” Another $50 says Liam thinks it’s a made-up word, like “Wonderwall.”

CLAY AIKEN has, through a process too mysterious to comprehend, sired a baby human child. As a journalist, I wish I could provide some details on how the hell this happened, but I’m just scratching my head over here. I don’t even know where to start. The Silmarillion, maybe?

Former LIMP BIZKIT guitarist WES BORLAND has joined MARILYN MANSON’s touring band, creating one of the most potent supergroups of the nü-metal era. If only all the troglodytes who might have given a shit hadn’t died years ago in Woodstock ’99 bonfire accidents.

Manson, desperate to mitigate the blow to his reputation caused by recruiting a dude from the only band uncooler than his own, issued an awkward, semi-apologetic explanation. “We have a new guitar player that’s gonna play for the first time tomorrow,” he sheepishly blubbered. “It’s the first time we’ll play on stage. His name is Wes Borland, and he used to be in a really terrible band that he left because he felt that it was a destructive force in art . . . but now he is in Marilyn Manson.”

I downloaded a leak of the new VERVE album, and the quality was a bit suspect. I was thinking some jackass might have recorded it from an Internet stream, and my suspicion was rudely confirmed when the cheery voiceover of that ubiquitous “Congratulations! You’ve been selected to receive a free laptop computer” audio banner ad came blaring through the guitars. Wait a minute — maybe that’s really part of the song and this reunion is all about the money.

Hey: when the Verve play shows in America, they should start out their set with a cover of “The Freshman,” just so everyone’s like, “Wait a minute, I thought I had this shit figured out.”

The Big Hurt: Reconstructive criticism

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 15:48:46 GMT

How music can be better
The job of any great music critic (e.g., me) is to provide useful suggestions to musicians, thus advancing the art.

The job of any great music critic (e.g., me) is to provide useful suggestions to musicians, thus advancing the art. Critics have always been the guiding force behind music; calling us “muses” might be going a little far, but I think everyone would agree that we’re a million times more important than musicians.

Here’s an illustration of how it works. Imagine it’s 1915 or so, and a critic is at some classical-music waltz concert or something. He hears an okay song, but he has the distinct sense that it could be better, so he writes a review saying that they should add more trumpets and shit and maybe start calling it “jazz” instead of “classical,” because that sounds more hip and modern. Upon reading this review, some musician (whose name is lost to history) decides to take the critic’s advice and invents jazz.

These major upheavals have occurred three times throughout the history of music: from classical to jazz, from jazz to rock, and from rock to rap. What with all the flagging record sales and overall music boringness lately, I propose that it’s time for another one, and I now proudly take my place in history as the critic who instigates it. Musicians, please consider these suggestions for making music better:

How about some new instruments? We’ve been stuck with the same basic crap for centuries: guitars, pianos, harps, etc. Maybe a combination of two instruments would be good, like a pianjo, or a guitar you can blow into to make extra bonus notes. Also, it should be like a video game, where if you play a bunch of notes really fast, you unlock some sort of high-score “achievement” and the blowtar company sends you a special pin you can wear.

Or, we could invent a completely new and better type of instrument. I’m not exactly sure what it should sound like (that’s for the musicians to figure out), but you should be able to play it with one hand so you can wave at the audience while you play, or simulate sex acts. Virtuoso types could even impress everyone by playing two at once. An important aspect of this instrument is that it should be relatively simple but extremely difficult to play, so the operator can make wild, sexual grimaces of effort while performing. Maybe the instrument would just be a sort of lever, and you’d have to pull it really hard to make a sound.

The Big Hurt: More bad news in brief

DAVID THORPE — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 21:35:28 GMT

DMX spits, Lou spills, Kelly leaks, Keane sucks
Police pulled over Snoop Dogg’s tour bus and — gasp! — smelled marijuana!

K.Banks

CAM’RON, who’s remained largely reclusive since the failure of his 2007 beef campaign against 50 CENT, has sold off his one remaining asset: the recording contract of his amusing retardate protégé, JUELZ SANTANA. Juelz, known for his distinctive bandana fashions and his trademarked rhyming-words-with-themselves-five-times flow, had a Top 10 hit in 2005 with “There It Go (The Whistle Song),” for which he should only drop dead. Cam’ron managed to get a cool $2 million by selling his old friend down the river (to Def Jam), which ought to be enough to keep him brooding in his estate for a couple more years. After that, expect to see a lot of purple fur coats flooding the garage-sale market.

For demonstration purposes, a representative Santana rhyme: “You be like, ’damn, that’s one nice ass rapper/I kinda like that rapper, want to be like that rapper.’”

DMX, who in recent months has been arrested approximately twice a day, dazzled onlookers with an impromptu freestyle outside the Phoenix courthouse where he had just pled not guilty to whatever the hell he did this time. “If and when you ever fall down, get back up/Drop something, stop fretting, pick that shit back up/Stand for something or fall for everything, wait for the right pitch or miss with every swing.” Great time to toss us some nuggets of wisdom, DMX. Keep these little life lessons coming, ’cause nothing gets me all pumped to succeed like the inspiring words of a broke dude with a house full of dog corpses.

Former boy-band mogul LOU PEARLMAN — now serving a 25-year prison sentence for screwing investors out of hundreds of millions of dollars with various endeavors of extreme bogusness — made news this week by snitching on an alleged cop killer. Pearlman claims that after hearing the 19-year-old Davin Smith boasting of the murder to fellow inmates, he struck up a little investigation, gaining the boy’s confidence after a chance meeting in the prison showers and extracting details of the crime, which he promptly turned over to the police. Pearlman hopes that his sleuthing and snitching will reduce his prison sentence. After all this publicity, I think he can definitely expect a dramatic reduction in his not-getting-stabbed-in-the-shower hitch.

In a rather disappointing move, BARACK OBAMA’s camp has condemned LUDACRIS for the ribaldry of his recent pro-Obama mixtape track. Campaign spokesman Bill Burton, desperate to make white people forget that Obama met privately with Luda in 2006 to talk about “empowering the youth,” trotted out the same old rapophobia: “Rap lyrics today too often perpetuate misogyny, materialism, and degrading images that he [Obama] doesn’t want his daughters or any children exposed to. . . . While Ludacris is a talented individual he should be ashamed of these lyrics.”

The Big Hurt: Playing with fire

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 14:38:01 GMT

Lil Wayne runs afoul of the ABKCO juggernaut
Milli-selling rapgoblin Lil Wayne probably didn’t worry too much about borrowing the Rolling Stones’ “Play with Fire” for the hook of his track “Playing with Fire.”

Milli-selling rapgoblin Lil Wayne probably didn’t worry too much about borrowing the Rolling Stones’ “Play with Fire” for the hook of his track “Playing with Fire.” Hell, it wasn’t even a sample. He hired R&B sublegend Betty Wright to sing it, shuffled some words around, changed the tune a bit, and called it fair. In the grand scheme of hip-hop infringement, it seems like a mere trifle.

But no! A suit has been filed against Mr. W.F. Baby and Universal Records seeking undisclosed damages in return for their reckless theft. Aside from the copyright issue, Wayne had the indecency to use ripped-off Stones lyrics alongside “explicit, sexist, and offensive” language, something of which the Stones would surely never approve. But wait! Before you accuse the Stones of being huge fucking hypocrites, consider this: the senior rockers lost the publishing rights to their entire pre-1970 catalogue decades ago, and they most likely have nothing to do with this lawsuit. (In fact, they just signed a huge contract with Universal.) A far more malevolent force is at work.

I’m guessing Weezy didn’t realize how appropriate the title “Play with Fire” is. In releasing a track that borrowed from classic Stones (however lightly), he not only played with fire, he stirred the wrath of someone whose strongarm tactics over the years have earned him a reputation as one of the most sinister, bellicose volcano gods of the recording industry. ABKCO Music holds the rights to an exceedingly valuable catalogue, one that includes the classic work of the Stones and Sam Cooke plus material by many other eminently reissuable ’60s hitmakers. It’s quite a nest egg, and ABKCO defends it like an angry mother eagle.

ABKCO is the brainchild of Allen Klein, a classic supervillain of the music biz who spent a few years handling the business affairs of the Rolling Stones and the Beatles before bitterly alienating them with self-serving management and ugly dealings. Klein’s first major taste of infringement litigation put him on the wrong side of the courtroom; while he was managing George Harrison, he was involved in the famed “subconscious plagiarism” suit regarding the ex-Beatle’s hit single “My Sweet Lord,” for which Harrison had unintentionally used the tune of the Chiffons’ 1963 hit “He’s So Fine.” Bright Tunes, the owner of the “He’s So Fine” publishing rights, had a strong case and stood to make millions.

The week in boners

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 22:14:14 GMT

Ross exposed, FCC hosed, hicks opposed
With his new album expected to hit #1 on the Billboard charts this week, I think (Nasty) Nas is getting a bit swell-headed.

With his new album expected to hit #1 on the Billboard charts this week, I think (Nasty) NAS is getting a bit swell-headed. He recently told MTV News about a grandiose fantasy: to record one album produced entirely by DRE and another produced entirely by DJ PREMIER, then drop them both on the same day. I’m guessing no self-respecting label would ever let him split his chart position like that, but I can’t hear those kind of pragmatic concerns over the deafening whoosh of a million hip-hop fans springing tremendous boners.

In other tremendous rap-boner news (this time in the classic “blunder” sense): thesmokinggun.com recently outed coke-rap champion RICK ROSS as, of all things, a former prison guard. In terms of hip-hop credibility, being revealed as a former Department of Corrections employee is like being outed as a former darling little tea party. Ross, struggling to wriggle out from beneath a weighty pile of evidence, posted a video denying it.

Somebody tell NICK CAVE to shave off that moustache before it rapes again. He looks like someone George C. Scott would beat up in Hardcore.

PAUL WESTERBERG just released a digital album for the unconventional price of 49 cents, and I simply can’t bring myself to listen to it. I dig some of his music, and I could probably scare up the money, but something about that price point seems incredibly fishy and uncouth, like a crazy hobo trying to sell me a dollar bill for 99 cents. I don’t know what your little game is, Westerberg, but leave me out of it!

Nearby: we’re getting another round of deluxe REPLACEMENTS reissues soon. Let’s hope they go for a decent, God-fearing price that won’t make us feel we’re being laughed at.

Also in the digital-music vein; CONOR OBERST is streaming his new solo album for free on his Web site. Be aware, however, that free Conor Oberst music is in the end much more expensive than 49-cent Paul Westerberg music, because it’s twice as likely to turn you into a tit.

If you’ve been holding your breath waiting for CHAPTERHOUSE to re-form, good news: you’re probably dead.

An appeals court has ruled that JANET JACKSON’s leathery Super Bowl horror wasn’t a big enough deal to justify the massive fine that the FCC tried to levy against CBS. An outrage! Until the FCC has collected its justly awarded $550 million and used the money to build some sort of Skynet-style networked nipple-containment/destruction system, our national nightmare can never truly be over.

Festival casualties ’08!

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 22:05:05 GMT

A grim reminder that rock can still maim you
A young man died of meningitis, which doctors believe he contracted by sharing joints with contagious hippies at the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival.

JUNE 25 | A young man died of meningitis, which doctors believe he contracted by sharing joints with contagious hippies at the Sierra Nevada World Music Festival. The reggae-heavy event was held in Boonville, California, an isolated, Steven King–esque enclave of weirdos who speak their own bizarre folk language called “Boontling” and infect outsiders with gruesome diseases. They also have a lovely brewery.

JUNE 27 | Glastonbury, the largest festival in England and indeed the world, was off to a roaring start: first-day crime figures were reported to be six times higher than 2007’s, and more than 450 people received medical treatment for a wide range of revelry-related injuries. That number seems pretty high, especially when you consider that there were only 45 injuries during the entire eight-day course of this year’s “running of the bulls” in Pamplona. Drink that in, readers: rock and roll is a full 10 times more likely to injure you than a surly, highly provoked bull. On the brighter side: 54 hooligans were brought to justice on Glasto’s first day, whereas I don’t think even a single bull was arrested in Pamplona.

JUNE 28 | Notable Glastonbury criminals included Amy Winehouse, who was ushered away by festival security after elbowing a fan in the face. It seems she thought he’d thrown a hat at her iconic beehive. (He had not.) The victim didn’t sweat it. “Not everyone can say they have been hit by Amy Winehouse,” he said. Yet.

JULY 2 | Days later, Travis McCoy of the dubious indie-rap outfit Gym Class Heroes was arrested on the Warped Tour after he smacked someone upside the face with a mic stand. Someone in the audience, it would seem, decided to call McCoy an “ignorant n—r,” perhaps unaware that this sort of behavior warrants — nay, demands — a solid smack in the face with a heavy object. McCoy faces a third-degree assault charges and, let’s hope, some high-fives.

JULY 6 | The inaugural year of Michigan’s Rothbury Music Festival was darkened by the news of two on-site fatalities. Although foul play is not suspected in either incident, it’s still unclear whether headliner John Mayer is responsible for the tragedies; police have not gone on record as exonerating the nice-guy singer. In the interest of journalistic fairness and basic decency, I should point out that there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that Mayer is involved in any way, but I don’t think I’m gonna do that.

Vicious squircles

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 17:38:27 GMT

The Big Hurt: grave errors and virtual disappointments
Someone has made off with Ian Curtis's gravestone.

Someone has made off with IAN CURTIS’s gravestone. The motive is unknown; the press has speculated that it was a deranged fan or someone hoping to cash in by hawking the stone, but everybody seems to be ignoring the most elegant and obvious answer — just look for all the terminally ill guys in Manchester who happen to be named Ian Curtis. What with the hospital bills and all, they’ve gotta cut corners somewhere.

Curtis could not be reached for comment.

Yet more alarming holiday-album news: SHERYL CROW is set to release a collection of Christmas songs sponsored by Hallmark. At what point does an artist — any artist, even Sheryl Crow — just stop giving a shit about being for real? Are her friends even making fun of her for this stuff anymore, or are they all like, “Oh, congratulations, you got more money”? I’m guessing she got into the whole music thing to express herself and be bohemian and what-not, and now she’s older and richer and doing this Barry Manilow holiday shit, and it’s getting sold in Hallmark Gold Crown stores next to little cards that say, “Smile, Grandpa! You’ll be with Jesus soon,” and I wonder whether she even notices how square it is. For her sake, though, I hope she wakes up every day and looks in the mirror and it’s like Martin Sheen in that first scene from Apocalypse Now.

Speaking of square: NELLY, N.E.R.D., and LINKIN PARK will be lending their considerable credibility to a new marketing campaign by New Era (hat company) and Zune (digital music player). The Microsoft Zune, you may recall, was the hottest technology must-not-have of 2006, and it’s gone on to sell more than 700 units. The artists will be featured in short “Webisodes” in which they tell the Zune-hungry public about all the fantastic music that they have on their totally not-unsexy Zunes, which they would totally be caught dead with. Somehow, hats will be involved.

The “Webisode” concept, if you didn’t know, is a device concocted by hack viral marketing consultants to exploit the popular theory that any video put up on the Web will be watched by millions of people for no apparent reason. Having worked on the Web, I can tell you that viral marketing dudes are like organ grinders; you pay them to shut up.

And, in a chilling coda to the tale of one machine’s unhipness, the press has been referring to the Zune’s round-cornered touchpad as a “squircle.” Let that one shudder through your system. I just had kidney stones, and let me tell you: the word “squircle” is worse.

The Big Hurt: Winners and losers

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 20:20:53 GMT

A hip-hop scorecard
Jay-Z's headlining slot at the Glastonbury Festival June 28 has been the stuff of much controversy, with various artists weighing in on his suitability to the event.

JAY-Z | His headlining slot at the Glastonbury Festival June 28 has been the stuff of much controversy, with various artists weighing in on his suitability to the event. Glasto has always been a guitar-rock show, and its fans and performers have been slow to accept hip-hop. Oasis remnant Noel Gallagher, bucking his usual habit of polite, non-confrontational passivity, flatly declared: “I’m not having hip-hop at Glastonbury. It’s wrong.” In response to this nay-saying, Hova kicked off his set with a facetious cover of “Wonderwall,” segueing into an à propos “99 Problems.” Sure, Jay, Noel may be a bitch, but he goaded you into singing an Oasis song. Which is the very definition of defeat. OUTCOME: ETHERED.

TUPAC SHAKUR | Last year, a bronze statue of the allegedly dead rapper was defaced by a vandal who hung a wooden cross around its neck and plastered it with racist literature. (The statue, which stands outside a Georgia community arts center founded by the rapper’s mother, is perhaps most famous for looking almost nothing like Tupac.) Finally, this week, an answer: the vandal has released a manifesto explaining, “Tupac Shakur is not only a rapist and murderer of his own people, his center of the arts is in the business of molesting the young minds of our youths into believing that ‘Thug Life’ is the American dream.” Tupac — who is still laboring under the morbid and unconvincing charade that he’s dead — refused to abandon his hermitry to comment, thus losing to a crazy guy by default. STATUS: BUSTER.

YOUNG JEEZY | Usually a man of unwavering purpose — to inspire thugs to greatness — Jeezy has recently undergone a baffling flip-flop in his opinion of John McCain, whom he met at a Saturday Night Live taping a while back. Some reports quoted a pessimistic Jeezy: “John McCain’s cool, but he looks like a fraud to me. I told him the ’hood was fucked up and he was like, ‘How you doing?’ Real talk. They know entertainers, so they shake your hand, ‘I’m your friend.’ I don’t really feel McCain.” In a Vibe magazine interview, however, he took a different position: “No disrespect to my man Barack, but I fuck with John McCain. [Editor’s note: that’s a good thing.] He greeted me like a God. The fact that he acknowledged me was crazy. I said, ‘I’m Young Jeezy, and it’s rough out here.’ He blew me off at first. I was like, ‘Nah, for real. It’s rough out here, so what you gonna do to change it?’ And he gave me a look back, like, ‘I know.’ ” Well, which is it, Snowman? Do you fuck with him or do you not feel him? I can only assume he picked up this habit of sudden, bizarre reversals of opinion from . . . I dunno, some politician. DIAGNOSIS: POSSIBLY TRIPPIN’.

World War III

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 20:13:04 GMT

The Big Hurt: Boy George vs. America; Coldplay vs. some dude; 50 Cent vs. chalupas
Devastating news: Boy George has been denied entry to the United States!

Retraction! Those of you who’ve been hard at work in your potato-salad labs preparing for the summer’s hottest music event — BOY GEORGE’s scheduled appearance at the NYC Department of Sanitation’s “Family Day,” which I reported two weeks ago and which I’m assuming is some kind of a picnic, hence the potato-salad remark, which in retrospect was probably a confusing and oblique thing to write, but what the hell, it’s not as if I could go back in time and somehow unwrite it — are in for some devastating news: Boy George has been denied entry to the United States! It seems he’s in a little bit of legal trouble stemming from the “assault” on and “false imprisonment” of a “male escort” from a place that we’re supposed to believe is called “Norway.” A convenient story, but we all know this is retaliation for last week, when the UK denied Martha Stewart a visa. I don’t want to engage in any irresponsible hyperbole, but I think this situation is serious enough that we might fairly describe it as “World War III.”

Recently resurrected guitar act the VERVE are set to release their first album in nearly a decade, and they’re kicking things off with a brand new single. You can hear “Love Is Noise” now on their MySpace page, but I would strongly advise against it; it’s godawful to a degree undreamt of even in the most dad-like of Richard Ashcroft’s solo flops. Things were looking encouraging last year, when the band released a 10-minute guitar jam that reeked of classic Verve, but this has all been thrown by the wayside in favor of irritating, ill-advised monkey noises.

Some dweeb on the Internet made news by accusing COLDPLAY of ripping off the tune to one of his songs. No, buddy, they didn’t rip you off — turns out you just kinda sound like Coldplay. Which ought to make you even more ashamed of yourself than the cheap attention grab you pulled.

Wait a minute — RUPAUL is a dude?!

I hope you’re sitting down and have your heart medication on hand, because I’m about to hit you with a quadruple whammy involving: (a) an unwarranted reunion; (b) Christian pop rock; (c) cutesy girl vocals; (d) a holiday album. After four years of uneventful absence, inoffensive Jesus-loving potluck types SIXPENCE NONE THE RICHER are returning to bless our souls with a musical log of yuletide cheer. Maybe we should just cancel Christmas. But on the bright side, holiday albums pose much less danger than most records, since there’s only a two-month “risk zone” followed by 10 months of relative safety.

Please release me

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 15:36:07 GMT

The Big Hurt: The week in awful press releases
If you were looking for important, well-reported, or even marginally interesting music news, you probably wouldn’t be reading my column.

There’s plenty of real stuff going on this week — you’ve already heard about R. Kelly’s acquittal and Lil Wayne’s million-selling chart coup — but if you were looking for important, well-reported, or even marginally interesting music news, you probably wouldn’t be reading my column. Let’s skip straight to the sweet stuff: the week’s goofiest press releases.

Teamsters Urge Singer Kenny Chesney: Speak Out Against Corona's Pension Cuts
Just a month after enduring the first shred of controversy in his career — his comments upon winning the Academy of Country Music’s Entertainer of the Year award were interpreted by some as ungrateful — blameless Knoxville pinhead Kenny Chesney is being pulled into a scuffle between Teamsters and beer:

“Chesney’s lyrics speak of down-to-earth themes such as tractor driving, barefoot walking, and hardworking, family-loving folks,” said Chuck Mack, President of Teamsters Joint Council 7 and International Vice President. “America's working families identify with him and vice-versa. We urge him to encourage Corona’s San Francisco distributor not to take away the dignified retirement employees worked hard to earn.”

A hundred teamsters showed up at his Corona-sponsored concert to pass out leaflets decrying a local Corona distributor’s attempt to eliminate employee pensions in a proposed new contract. Chesney, who has a major promotional (and esophageal) relationship with Corona, has skipped his cellphone into the crystal-clear sea and is currently too laid back to comment.

I have to say I resent the ugly tactic of using a country singer’s love of heavy farm equipment to guilt-trip him into joining a political fight. The relationship between Kenny Chesney and tractors is a sacred thing, and using it to drive a wedge between him and the Mexican beer he so dearly loves (see his 2007 hit “Beer in Mexico”) is downright reprehensible.

Using Music To Ease the Pain of Labor; New CD Featuring Celine Dion, Norah Jones, Provides Soothing Songs for Delivery
As if childbirth weren’t painful enough:

Doctors and midwives are increasingly embracing the notion that music can help improve the birth experience for mothers. From this need to soothe sprang the CD Stork Tunes: Songs for a Happy Birth Day, a compilation of songs focused on mothers and children by top artists. Among the artists on the CD are Celine Dion (“A Mother’s Prayer”); Katrina Carlson (“Mother”); and the Dixie Chicks (“Godspeed (Sweet Dreams)”).

I know in my heart that any child of mine would sooner claw its way back into the womb than enter a world in which Norah Jones dominates its infant senses. Furthermore, if I ever knock up a girl who would enjoy listening to Celine Dion and the Dixie Chicks during the birth of our child, I hope to be thousands of miles away from the delivery room, preferably in a nation with relaxed attitudes toward deadbeatism.

Popular douches, hetero boyfriends, and softie gangstas

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 14:59:38 GMT

The Big Hurt tackles Tori Amos, Pete Wentz, and Ice Cube
I invite those of you who hate me to take a moment to delight in my pain.

Sincere apologies for my absence last week. I had a massive kidney stone — probably some kind of divine come-uppance for all those times I made fun of Christian rock. I invite those of you who hate me to take a moment to delight in my pain. And now, the news:

If you’re thinking of dumping your girlfriend, now’s a perfect time: TORI AMOS is preparing a stage musical, a graphic novel, and a “project of new music and visuals.” Retreat now, boyfriends! Amos saturation approaching critical early-’90s levels!

As I write this, idealess pop-metal trogs DISTURBED have the #1 album in the country for the third time in their careers. I can’t quite figure it out; usually, when something stupid tops the charts, you can use the ol’ “idiots will buy anything” explanation. But seriously — they’ll buy that? By the time you read this, however, the #1 slot should be safely held down by LIL WAYNE.

BOY GEORGE is set to headline the New York City sanitation department’s “Family Day” gathering. Yes, there’s a somewhat reasonable explanation for this, but I feel it’ll be more fun if I let you draw your own conclusions.

If you’ve been disillusioned by all the recent arrests of major rappers, here’s something to cheer you up: has-been arrests! Erstwhile regulator WARREN G narrowly ducked a drug charge, and COOLIO was hauled in for an outstanding traffic misdemeanor and released on $10,000 bail. I guess the biggest news here is that Coolio had 10 grand.

And, in the exact opposite of the usual legal news about rappers: New York governor DAVID PATERSON has issued a full pardon to SLICK RICK, wiping out the weapons charges that kept the rapper jailed for six years in the ’90s.

Sure, having total recall for shitty music sounds like fun, but what’s the last time you had ROB ZOMBIE’s “Dragula” stuck in your head for six days straight? Kill me.

50 CENT has been embroiled in a heated legal argument with an ex-girlfriend over the ownership of a $2.4 million house on Long Island. Not long after his attempts to evict the ex were unsuccessful, the house mysteriously and not-at-all-suspiciously burnt down. Sometimes life just throws wacky coincidences at us out of nowhere, right 50?

Sick leave

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 18:56:25 GMT

David Thorpe: The early writings
Because of an unforeseen medical emergency and resultant procedure, “Big Hurt” columnist David Thorpe was unable to furnish his regularly scheduled column to the Phoenix this week.

Because of an unforeseen medical emergency and resultant procedure (spleen removed, more spleen installed), “Big Hurt” columnist David Thorpe was unable to furnish his regularly scheduled column to the Phoenix this week. In its stead, the editors have opted to run a small compendium of assorted early writings and juvenilia culled from an archive kept deep below our headquarters (in a steamer trunk once used to protect Ric Ocasek’s many identical wigs from moisture).

It is our hope that, from this glimpse of the writer’s earliest output, readers will gain a clearer understanding of his æsthetic and be able to approximate more closely for themselves the unique critical perspective he brings to the world of contemporary music. Our best wishes for your speedy and full recovery, David.

“i have a dog. our dog is named yazz. he is brown and likes to run in the park. i love my dog yazz because we play together and when kokomo or johnny hates jazz comes on in mommys car he barks real loud so i never have to hear kokomo or johnny hates jazz. when we go to the mall he gets mad and growls at the scary dead lady at sam goody so i know never to go to sam goody or listen to nitzer ebb or something bad will happen. i miss yazz because mom says he went away last week when he tried to eat the long box that her bon jovi cd was in. i hope yazz never hears new jersey or kokomo in the dog heaven or he might growl and get in trouble for growling in heaven.”

— excerpted from two-page handwritten report titled “My Pet,” September 1988

“Dear Principal, I want to say sorry for what I did in school today. I didn’t know the divinyls song was about what Nurse Kathy said it was about until she told me when I was waiting outside your office and now I think I know and I’m super sorry. I also am sorry for wearing my pants and shirt backwards because I thought that was allowed in school. I am also sorry that my backwards shirt said Kill Uncle because I like my uncle and I didn’t know what that meant. I am also sorry for yelling A MOSQUITO MY LIBIDO at Mrs. Carruthers when she asked what my family’s summer plans are because I didn’t know what that meant either. Today is the worst day. I’m sorry. P.S. Is your son named Jesus?”

Ho down

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 21:37:59 GMT

Remembering the glory days of hip-hop misogyny
Hip-hop has always had a bad rap ( duh-hyuk! ) for misogyny, but when I think back on the long history of articles criticizing the lyrical treatment of women, I have to chuckle.

Hip-hop has always had a bad rap (duh-hyuk!) for misogyny, but when I think back on the long history of articles criticizing the lyrical treatment of women, I have to chuckle. Little did all these academics, right-wing pundits, and watchdog groups know that they never even scratched the surface; the ’90s produced some of the most wonderfully detestable hip-hop tracks imaginable, and no misogyny today seems to compare with those wonderful times.

Since nothing particularly interesting is going on this week, I thought I’d take a moment to reminisce about a few of my very favorite misogynist rap gems. These songs go way beyond mere sexism, disrespect, and degradation — they approach the truly sublime. Before continuing, dear reader, please note that I’m not condoning the existence of these morally unpardonable tracks or defending their content. I’m just enjoying them, the way a pervert enjoys getting stung on the genitals by a scorpion.

Too Short, “All My Bitches Are Gone”
Too Short used to have a lot of ladies, but he beat them, and now they’ve all left. You might think this would, with the right degree of irony, make a pretty funny cautionary tale, but it never develops in that direction. Short seems glad to be rid of them — perhaps because his fists are getting tired. A sample:

All my bitches are gone, them bitches bounced
I had a gang of ’em, now they can’t be found
They ain’t [cavorting] with Short Dog
Cause I’m from Oakland
You [trifle] with us bitch, somethin’ gettin’ broken
Your leg, arm, jaw, nose, pick apart
Oakland [gentlemen]’ll break your heart

When you get Short and co-star Ant Banks together, they form such an amazing feedback loop of woman hatred that it seems almost suspicious. Although they mention sex quite a few times, their relish and delight in woman hating comes off much stronger than their passing interest in sensual pleasures.

UGK, “Pregnant Pussy”
Very early in their career, the legendary Texas duo released an EP called Banned that collected tracks too hideous to be released on their Jive debut. One such track, “Pregnant Pussy,” is spoken of with hushed reverence among the offensive-rap elite.

I’m not usually one to censor myself or mince words, but I’m about to mince the hell out of this thing: this is a song about the notion that when one has sex with a pregnant woman, one is actually interacting with two different beings. “If she’s expecting, I can satisfy/And at the same time give the kid a pacifier.”

The Big Hurt: Pied-pipers lead innocent teens to emo cult Valhalla!

DAVID THORPE — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 16:45:39 GMT

Music news in brief
As a connoisseur and frequent purveyor of shitty journalism, I have to applaud the Mail for its tremendous gusto.

Fans of eyeliner-industry darlings MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE are set to march across London by the hundreds to protest the DAILY MAIL’s shitty treatment of the band — and, weird as it might sound, the kids have a pretty good reason to be mad. In recent coverage of the suicide of an emo-obsessed teenage girl, the ultra-reputable rag has made all sorts of hilarious insinuations about the pop group, going so far as to suggest they’re at the helm of some sort of death cult:

One of the foremost of these ‘suicide cult’ bands is My Chemical Romance, from New Jersey. Their first single, “Welcome to the Black Parade,” from the album The Black Parade, was released in 2006 and became a huge hit, going to number one in Britain. The concept album follows the story of a character called The Patient, who dies of cancer. The Black Parade is a nickname for the place where Emo fans believe they will go when they die.

As a connoisseur and frequent purveyor of shitty journalism, I have to applaud the Mail for its tremendous gusto. The most cursory research (i.e., asking any teenager) would have confirmed that “The Black Parade” was nowhere near their first single, even in the UK. Digging a little deeper would have revealed that My Chemical Romance have often been anti-suicide, in both song and interview, and that they’ve also disowned the “emo” thing, calling it a “pile of shit.” Most audacious is the final sentence, which takes such dazzling, whimsical liberties with fact and sanity that I’m a little jealous. These guys don’t just insult the reader’s intelligence — they lambaste it with a full Friar’s Club roast, with Jeffrey Ross in a tuxedo cracking wise about the reader’s intelligence’s mother and everything.

Several more articles about the young girl’s suicide followed, each with further condemnations of the destructive, suicide-glorifying emo lifestyle. Actual headline: “Why No Child Is Safe from the Sinister Cult of Emo.” The article seems to condemn kids just as much as it condemns the music: they’re “naive, misguided or just plain stupid. But then, that’s always been the trouble with some teenagers. And the danger of emo.”

After all this musing about the stupidity of teenagers, we get a dandy little nightcap to the story. On the night of her suicide, “the teenager turned to her [her mother] and said: ‘I feel like killing myself.’ ” Her mother said something like: “Don’t be so silly — we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Case closed! Music’s fault!

The Big Hurt: Tragic kingdom

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 20 May 2008 21:11:15 GMT

Hard Rock Park about as awesome as it sounds
The whole Hard Rock enterprise — which started as a café and has since branched out into hotels, casinos, and a vast nationwide network of lame T-shirts — has built great success on the idea of “rock.”

The whole Hard Rock enterprise — which started as a café and has since branched out into hotels, casinos, and a vast nationwide network of lame T-shirts — has built great success on the idea of “rock.”

What the hell is rock these days? I can’t quite define it, but it pops up everywhere. It’s the operative word in Rock of Love and VH1’s Movies That Rock: The MC Hammer Story. I think it’s the secret ingredient in Rockstar Energy Drink. Kid Rock has it in spades. If I close my eyes and try to imagine it, it sounds kinda like Eddie Money and looks like Tommy Lee, but older.

Don’t worry, I’m not trying to blow your mind with the shocking scoop that rock and roll hasn’t remained completely free of commercial taint. I’m talking about the word, which the Man has co-opted and rendered beautifully meaningless. The Hard Rock Café uses the rock concept — mostly in the form of memorabilia — to sell people food, beverages, and T-shirts. Which sounds like the most natural thing in the world until you think about it for 10 seconds. Why does rock equal food? Because rock equals anything you want to sell to Baby Boomers.

Earlier this month, a new extension of the brand made its public debut, further eroding the meaning of “rock.” The Hard Rock Park — I am absolutely not making this quote up — “turns up the volume on the family leisure scene” with a rock-oriented adventure for all ages. The sprawling theme park is the biggest tourist destination ever to hit Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, having cost a whopping $400 million. Its bizarre attractions and muddled themes paint a delightful picture of a bunch of square-ass suits making a valiant attempt to figure out this whole “rock” thing, and I can’t say I blame ’em for being a little confused. Allow me to guide you through the park with this evocative boilerplate from the press release:

“ROCK & ROLL HEAVEN — AN OASIS OF ROCK, EXPLORES THE FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS ‘BEHIND THE MUSIC’ — THE INFLUENCES, THE LEGENDS AND THE VIBRATIONS THAT STIR THE SOUL.” This section houses the park’s biggest attraction, “Led Zeppelin: The Ride.” I find it rather odd that they’d pick a three-quarters-living band to represent the booming industry of dead rockers, but they probably didn’t want to get too pessimistic. (And the Hendrix estate is an expensive bunch.) Phoenix editor Lance Gould suggests they beef the place up with a “Lynyrd Skynyrd Flight Simulator” and a “Jimi Hendrix Puke Lagoon Submarine Ride,” plus some fine dining at the Mama Casseteria. (Don’t blame me for those jokes. All him.)

Lavigne squeaks; Winehouse freaks; Oasis leaks

DAVID THORPE — Thu, 22 May 2008 21:32:31 GMT

The Big Hurt: music news in brief
Courtney Love and Avril Lavigne both have laryngitis this week. Explain that, Richard Dawkins.

COURTNEY LOVE and AVRIL LAVIGNE both have laryngitis this week. Explain that, Richard Dawkins.

PETE DOHERTY has been released from prison, and he claims to have stayed clean during his internment. Judging from post-release photographs, I’m guessing he means “clean” in the drugs sense. But, hey, congratulations are due: the boy looks significantly pinker than usual, and now he can finally slap a two-digit number on his “__ days since I’ve been arrested with a needle hanging out of my eyeball” sign.

In other classy-Brit news: sensual irritant AMY WINEHOUSE recently spent the night in jail for getting effed up, slapping a dude in the face, and head-butting a woman who tried to call her a cab. Whenever I try to picture her in my head, I just see a brunette version of Andy Capp’s wife.

Wow, another free NINE INCH NAILS album. Sort of like a couch on the sidewalk: sure, it’s free, but it probably stinks, and what the hell would I do with it? Still, I dig the dude’s sentiment. “Thank you for your continued and loyal support over the years,” said TRENT REZNOR on the official NIN Web site. “This one’s on me.” There are plenty of musicians with twice the money who’d never consider something like that.

R. KELLY’s lawyers have requested that a “gag order” be maintained during the singer’s child-porn trial. Kinky! The proceedings finally got under way this past Friday, six years after the indictment, despite his defense team’s motion for a further postponement. It’s delightful how the lighting speed of our judicial system has let the dude release at least three #1 albums (and an absurdly intricate R&B opera) between the time he videotaped himself peeing on a teenager (allegedly!) and the actual trial.

These allegations are the pinnacle of a long career of teen-boning rumors that include an alleged illegal marriage to 15-year-old singer AALIYAH. (And to think, we used to run guys out of the industry on a rail for minor indiscretions like marrying their 13-year-old cousins.) If convicted, Kelly will be trapped in something not unlike a closet for up to 15 years.

That sly dog NICK CANNON, it’s reported, managed to marry Mariah Carey without a pre-nup. I’ll offer him a tentative high-five on the assumption that it’s some kind of crazy scheme, but I won’t offer him a low one on the flipside until he pulls the trigger on the deal and walks out with half her shit.

The Big Hurt: Here come the summer fests

DAVID THORPE — Wed, 07 May 2008 15:33:00 GMT

‘Excellent entertainment-value propositions’ for all!
Look alive, alt-metal fans. Time to polish the wallet chain, spray some Febreze on the ol’ cargo shorts, and dye your goatee purple for maximum extremeness: festival season is nearly upon us!

Look alive, alt-metal fans. Time to polish the wallet chain, spray some Febreze on the ol’ cargo shorts, and dye your goatee purple for maximum extremeness: festival season is nearly upon us! This summer offers an embarrassment of riches for the connoisseur of fine live entertainment.

Projekt Revolution
Doesn’t that misspelling make it seem all Soviet and dangerous? Golly, it’s almost as if the “revolution” had begun with the name itself! Founded in 2002 by rap-rock hitmakers Linkin Park (ooh, there’s another one!), Projekt Revolution is known for bringing A-list hip-hop acts together with the nation’s most stimulating rock groups for an unprekedented melding of diverse musiks.

The trick, I think, has been this: by featuring pantywaist teenweep twerpgroups like the Used, Taking Back Sunday, and My Chemical Romance, organizers could scare off the “urbans” in the audience and let skittish young suburbanites enjoy a Ghostface Killah show without all the terrifying ethnic menace. This year’s line-up, however, looks to be a tad lacking in the Revolution department. With a roster consisting entirely of rock and post-hardcore groups, the 2008 tour seems to have ditched the multi-ethnic angle in favor of juxtaposing the distinct genres of godawful tween MySpace shit (Armor for Sleep, Hawthorne Heights, Atreyu) and shit that I’m not sure anyone actually listens to (the Bravery, solo Chris Cornell).

Rockstar Mayhem Fest
Warning: any festival that asks us to choose between the “Jägermeister Stage” and the “Hot Topic Stage” is in real danger of sinking under a massive overabundance of quality. Evidence: featured acts include Dragonforce, whose blistering riffs have provided the soundtrack to a million elves leveling up, and Disturbed, who are so insecure in their ability to project their image of dangerous craziness that they had to name their fucking band “Disturbed.” At least they weren’t desperate enough to fall back on the “ooh, scary masks” method, like festival headliners Slipknot.

Vans Warped Tour
If there’s anything that redeems this bullshit traveling merch booth, maybe it’s that it gives kids something easy to grow out of. That might seem like a snide remark, but I’m halfway serious. My generation had to struggle into adulthood nursing a diverse set of freshman shames ranging from Bel Biv Devoe to that Bryan Adams song from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Just think if all the ridiculous shit we listened to before we knew any better could have been tied up in one neat little superdense bundle of ass, ready to be cast aside at the threshold of adulthood?

The Big Hurt: Beef in brief

DAVID THORPE — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 20:50:10 GMT

Guess whose guess-what is as raggedy as a mango seed
Ultra-classy rapper Khia, best known for urging America’s ladies to pop their anatomies and America’s men to lick her “crack,” is fixing to put me out of a job.

Ultra-classy rapper KHIA, best known for urging America’s ladies to pop their anatomies and America’s men to lick her “crack,” is fixing to put me out of a job. Earlier this month, she published a rampaging all-caps review of a new album by her rival TRINA (of “No Panties” fame) that will probably go down in history as the funniest piece of music journalism ever crafted by a human being. I’d love to spend this entire column just reprinting quotes from the review, but you’ll have to make do with a few choice snippets:

“I HIGHLY RECOMMEND . . . STEROIDS AND DONKEY MILK!!!! CUZ HO YOU LOOK LIKE U ON UR LAST TRIMESTER . . . ”

“YO FEET IS CRUSTY AND YO WIG IS DUSTY AND YO HEAD LOOK BIGGA DAN YO BODY!!!”

“KILL URSELF HOE!!! HANG URSELF!!! BITCH!!! JUMP OUT DA WINDA AND CHASE UR CD DAT I JUST THEW OUT AND GET RUNNED OVA WIT IT AT FULL SPEED!! BITCH, IM DRAGGING BY DAT DUSTY ASS WIG . . . SO HOLD ON TO DA BUMPA AND GET THEE BEHIND ME.”

Lyricism. Pure poesy. How like the gentle breeze upon an Aeolian harp . . .

O, AARON LEWIS of STAIND! How I long for the grumbling girth of your acoustic sadballadry! Yes, do it! Take a break from Staind to release a ponderous solo album of weary strumming! Oh, please, let it be so!

The near collapse of Bear Stearns was troubling enough, but now another mighty financial powerhouse has fallen: BEZ, the legendary halfwit dancer for early-’90s Madchester heavyweights the HAPPY MONDAYS, has filed for bankruptcy. If an apelike, semi-coherent man best known for almost kinda being in a band 15 years ago can fall on hard times in today’s economy, how are we the less accomplished to feel safe?

Beef review: 50 CENT & YOUNG BUCK’s scuffle plays like a rerun of 50’s 2005 bout with the GAME, but without all the fresh star power and dramatic gunplay that put that one in the national spotlight. A howling yawn all around, with a dismal, noncommittal dis track from Buck and a tepid 50 interview that lands few punches. Alas, we can expect no deaths to result from this dreary outing.

BILL COSBY’s plans to release a hip-hop album made news all over, but it’s my sad duty to report that, since the Cos won’t actually be rapping, it’s not nearly as rad as it sounds.

The Big Hurt: Chinese Democracy at last!

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 19:05:55 GMT

Why you should consider not caring
Reports have surfaced that Chinese Democracy , the long-awaited album by former rock gods Guns N’ Roses, has been completed and delivered to Geffen.

Reports have surfaced that Chinese Democracy, the long-awaited album by former rock gods Guns N’ Roses, has been completed and delivered to Geffen. After years of missed release windows, it seems likely that the record will finally see the light of day. This ought to be one of the biggest music events of the year: a true comeback album, more than a decade in the making, from one of the biggest rock bands in history. Unfortunately, all the years of hype can’t stand up to the massive erosion of the band’s relevance. To spoil your fun well in advance, I’m offering this list of reasons why you shouldn’t give a shit.

Dismal line-up
Guns N’ Roses have always had a turnover problem. By the time they entered the public eye, they’d already undergone an extensive line-up shuffle. Even Tracii Guns, who gave the band the first half of their name, was gone before they released any material. Since then, Izzy, Slash, Duff, and Steven Adler have all left and been replaced (in Duff’s case replaced with a Replacement). You may cling to the hope that Axl is the one who matters, but keep in mind that nearly all of GNR’s classic singles had significant songwriting input from Izzy and/or Slash, and that, left to his own devices, Axl had a tendency toward overblown symphonic ego ballads like “November Rain.” In the end, we’re left with an Axl Rose solo project backed by a sad posse of B-listers, studio musicians, and Love Spit Love alums ( . . . and Tommy Stinson).

. . . and even Buckethead’s gone
If there’s anything more aggressively destructive to rock than an overcooked gimmick, it’s gotta be idiot-savant guitar virtuosity. Buckethead (Slash’s replacement from 2000 to 2004) has plenty of both to spare, what with his KFC hat and his nerdy shredding. He may not be the best fit for a mainstream rock band — better to stick him in some weirdy-beardy avant-metal outfit where he won’t annoy the populace — but as a colorful oddball, at least he added a flamboyant non-Axl personality to the line-up. Buckethead’s musical contributions may have been all wrong, but the ridiculous masked dude worked as a last-ditch effort to keep GNR amusing on some level.

Dr. Pepper is wicked gross
Last month, Dr. Pepper announced a bold, bizarre, and potentially expensive marketing stunt: if Chinese Democracy is released this year, the company will give everyone in America a free Dr. Pepper. Although the marketing folks probably never thought they’d have to make good on that promise, it now appears we might all have a free drink coming our way. (Unfortunately, Dr. Pepper tastes like children’s cough syrup, so I’ll have to scratch that off the list of reasons to care.)

The big hurt: Music news in brief

DAVID THORPE — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 21:21:56 GMT

Wal-Mart wanes, Satan wins, Weiland whines
Those of us still chuckling over DMX's “your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack” diatribe are in for another dose of ill-informed rapper cuteness.

Those of us still chuckling over DMX’s “your momma ain’t name you no damn Barack” diatribe are in for another dose of ill-informed rapper cuteness. In a recent interview with the Guardian, SNOOP DOGG broke a scandalous story: “The KKK gave Obama money. They was one of his biggest supporters.” This quote quickly spread to all sorts of news outlets, even getting to the point where Obama dignified it with a denial. Although few articles bothered to speculate on where Snoop might be getting his information, I’m guessing it was from a satirical article and popular e-mail forward that claims the KKK is supporting Obama because anyone is better than Hillary. Get it? Even though he’s part black. Get it?

Sketchy funding allegations aside, most coverage of the Snoop quote failed to mention that he was, in general, pretty pro-Obamic.

Wal-Mart, America’s longstanding Garth Brooks teat, has lost its status as our top music retailer. That title has been claimed by Apple’s iTunes store, largely on the strength of our girlfriends buying FEIST songs. “We launched iTunes less than five years ago, and it has now become the number one music retailer in the world,” said iTunes VP Eddie Cue. “We are thrilled to provide this unprecedented conduit between your girlfriend and Feist.”

Apple beware: MySpace is about to launch a music-download service of its own. The hundred-million-strong social network is poised to gobble up significant bits of the iTunes market share by creating a streamlined system to deliver MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE to your shithead little brother.

Here’s a whole new kind of objection to Guitar Hero: country-rocker CHARLIE DANIELS is complaining about the use of his hit “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” in the video game. Why? Because the Devil can win if you aren’t good enough to best his fiddlin.’ In a post on his Web site, Daniels explains: “I would never grant permission for some company to create a video-game version of a song I wrote in which the devil wins a contest, and I’m sorely disappointed with the company who owns the copyright for not policing the situation. As it is, they have allowed these people to violate the very essence of the song.” Daniels is powerless to erect any legal roadblocks, having lost the rights to the song years ago (in a fiddling contest with the Devil, I gather). “Pray for our troops,” he added.

Former musician PETE DOHERTY has been sentenced to a few months in jail for whatever it is he does. Can anyone still muster a shit?