Simple math, at it's simplest A quick rebuttal on a particularly sullen review from the past that I’ve just read… namely this one:

‘Former Smiths guitarist sounds like bad imitation of his old band. For most rockers, the past is a dangerous place, because it's all been done before. For Johnny Marr, the trouble is double: The crowning irony of the debut record by his new band, the Healers, is that it sounds like the groups that imitated Marr's old band, the Smiths. The twangy Brit pop of the opener, "The Last Ride," could be something from Oasis, a band that openly adores the Smiths.”

Let’s recap on this one shall we?.. Oh wait! I forgot to mention this review was taken from a mondo cool contributing Rolling Stone journalist, who I boldly (underline) would like to mention, (ahem) currently no longer contributes anything to Rolling Stone, aside from the occasional death threat, and scathing remarks on his FORMER job, to his FORMER co-workers. Let’s focus on the first paragraph of this gem.

“ Former Smiths guitarist sounds like bad imitation of his old band, for most rockers, the past is a dangerous place, because it’s all been done before. For Johnny Marr, the trouble is double: The crowning irony of the debut record by his new band, the Healers, is that is sounds like the groups that imitated Marr’s old band, the Smiths.”

Okay there chief, so.. Lemmie get this straight, You’re accusing Johnny Marr, of sounding like the groups, that imitated him? As in, Oasis, Pet Shop Boys, Beck, the list goes on and on, So basically, you’re calling him out on the fact that.. he sounds too much like.. himself?


O.k. so in that case, is it wrong to assume that.. For instance, “What’s the story (Morning Glory) is basically Oasis, trying to sound more like Oasis?, or is it that they’re trying to sound more like, Shoegazer?



Let’s also not forget, that during Marr’s substantial hiatus from the music biz, he spent most of his time working with, and contributing on albums with the likes of such artists as, Bryan Ferry, The Pretenders, Kirsty MacColl, Neil Finn, Karl Bartos of Kraftwerk, Talking Heads, Black Grape, Billy Bragg, Pet Shop Boys, Beck, and (you guessed it!) Oasis. All of which, can be argued, have tried to (as you’ve so eloquently put it) “imitate” the Smiths sound. Well bravo genius! You’ve figured out the mystery haven’t you, how is it that so many newer groups have sounded so much like the Smiths?

Listen pal, you can’t squeeze a buncha’ apples into a glass and call it lemonade. Whatever way you squeeze it, and whatever Johnny Marr puts together these days, is gonna sound like Johnny Marr, and Johnny Marr, sounds like the fucking Smiths. It’s simple math at it’s simplest.


- Joee Adams.  ¶ 1:43 AM 0 comments

  "There are times, however, and this is one of them, when even being right feels wrong. What do you say, for instance, about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It's a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die. Who knows? If there is in fact, a heaven and a hell, all we know for sure is that hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix — a clean well lighted place full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars where almost everybody seems vaguely happy, except those who know in their hearts what is missing... And being driven slowly and quietly into the kind of terminal craziness that comes with finally understanding that the one thing you want is not there. Missing. Back-ordered. No tengo. Vaya con dios. Grow up! Small is better. Take what you can get..."

- Hunter S. Thompson  ¶ 1:29 AM 0 comments

  I am absolutely in sheer distaste over the current state of popular media, namely so in music with it's varying degree's of recycled or regurgitated formulaes. There is nothing left to sulk over, and in my opinion there won't be for a long time. Very easily put, the majority of todays music, is without any soul or mean whatsoever. We are raising the future to be weened upon the teet of mindless vagrants who thrive upon the idea making easy money on the wings of limited talent, and the ability to rhyme to a rhythm. You'll have to forgive me if in any way these accusations are blunt, but you must realize, the message that we are sending the youth of tomorrow, this "culture". Money above all things is not seen as a commodity these days, more so it is seen as an accessory.

And that's what it is. Rap music, is fueled by money, not by talent.

  ¶ 12:24 AM 0 comments

  Hell as frozen over.. and the sun's turned black.
A Few Words on Ray LaMontagne.

It's very rare for something like this to happen.. I put on a record.. and instantly enjoy it.. not caring about it's flaws, downsides, or any other disappointing feature. From the first minutes of listening to Ray LaMontagne's second studio album "'Till the sun turns black".. I was instantly hooked. There is something about his voice; that visceral "from the gut" sound that captures you, and sends you directly into Ray's train of thought at that particular moment in time. Although on this record, which differs from it's predecessor "Trouble" Ray introduces a horn and string section, to which some would have thought to have brought too much of a foreign atmosphere to Ray's normally simplistic approach to recording, and downplay the most important feature of Ray's brilliance; His voice. However throughout the records 11 song sequence, Ray's voice is the most crucial element, and is only complimented by the eloquently placed sections of horn and strings. Ray's abilities as a singer/songwriter have been seemingly nourished since the hiatus period between "Trouble" and "Till the sun turns black."  ¶ 10:54 AM 0 comments

  Wolfmother; Moths to the flame, or mothers of nostaliga

Once again, within the depths of the lurky outlands of Austrailia, there has arisen another embodiment of nostalgic rock and roll. Riding on the wings of such predecessors such as AC/DC, Jet, The Casanovas, and The Mud-Huggers. Wolfmother has captured time in the spotlight with their self titled debut, and smash hit single "Woman". Every bit of this album has obvious elements of influence, everything from the falsettoed swaggering vocals of a Robert Plant Zeppelin 2/3 era, echoing behind droning Tony Iommi-ish riffs, all smothered together with a bit of Deep Purple beefiness. Becoming a thickened, tasty stew of soulfull, regurgitated originality. So far the only flaw that I've found in this album is that it has an end.  ¶ 2:26 PM 0 comments

  Hopefully, a very long wintersleep..



It was just recently that Wintersleep have come to my attention, and it sadly has not been long enough. In any reference I do belive the term "Hibernate" should be exalted upon these would be gnarl masters of proposed artistic relation.. I can honestly say.. that I have never in my wildest ever dreampt about something so pathetically grotestegue in a form of music in my entire essence of living, breathing, or existance. Utter and totally chaotic junk..

Basically it's droned out/down guitar melodies wrapped around vocals that alone, are enough to want to make yourself de-audiotize yourself in a very van gough fashion ( which would qualify as something more artistic than this "Music". ) I can't tell whether he's crying because his girlfriend just fucked his father, or if his hand has been caught in a meat grinder for hours upon end and he's simply just run out the lung capacity to sustain an actual note that resembles a human wave length. The only justification that could come out of recording something like this..... would be if it was somehow incorporated into a dog whistle... for very old, deaf, and miserable mutts searching for a means to an end. So save yourself the aftermath and the 20 bucks.. go by a Pearl Jam record and hear how terrible vocals are supposed to sound.  ¶ 2:00 PM 0 comments

  All I can say is that there was madness, in every direction if there ever was such a thing.. caught up between the nights of supposed living and the mornings of perpetual death.. the one thing that had equalized the situation; the sights and sounds ever evolving from those squeaky speakers that always tinned up when they were turned up. Random clutters and clangs from random faulty records that were bought on a whim for 1.19 at the local pawn shop that always seemed to be filled with such things..A perpetual pandora's box for the ones who never could tell what it was they were looking for and hid behind the usual dumb found reasons for a search.. some times when the clock would wind and the caps would twist off I'd sit and sing along, or hum, sometimes dance.. without ever moving a muscle ,just dancing in the back of my mind with this pair of eyes without a face.. sometimes I'd stare, sometimes they'd listen but mostly we just danced. ...It's funny what too many nights by yourself with nothing but the sound of your silent voice and the creaking yawl of that emtpy liqoured stained glass will do to you, especially when your mind is already weak from lack of sleep and inabaility to try.

But almost all current music is worthless, everything from the attempted regurgitations of what Rock and Roll used to be, and were some thing it left off makes me sick to my stomach, and mines not very weak. Whatever happened to creating.. something pure, unadulterated, seemingly without cause except meerly being written.. there's nothing left but memories and delusions and both hurt too much.  ¶ 9:20 PM 0 comments