Hot on the heels of perhaps the most patronizing song of all time, “Do They Know it’s Christmas?” (which would’ve been more accurately titled ”You do Realize, the Continent is Predominantly Muslim, Right?”) Lionel Ritchie and Michael Jackson were brought on board for another celebrity sing-along for charity and came up with the somewhat less patronizing, ”We are the World.”

We’re both big fans of the late Michael Jackson—-it doesn’t feel right saying that—not that we can’t come to terms with his being dead, but the expression, which is more suited to being fashionably late or a scary delay around that time of the month. We’re sure those original recording sessions (in which Waylon Jennings stormed off after the effrontery of a verse sung in Swahili) were a real gas and much preferable, to say, forking over $20 bucks to stand in a room at Sun Studios and get photographed singing into a mic.

After the Haitian disaster, another star-studded glee club was slapped together to reprise the song, including, for some reason Barbara Streisand and a small white kid standing beside Usher (see pic above). After listening to this song (we recommend that after you click on all the associated ads here, donating to that other worthy cause) we thought there were certainly ways in which it could’ve been improved.

So, here are the Top 10 Things that Woul’dve Improved We Are the World.

10. A barbershop quartet.  Straw hats, canes and good-natured quipping would’ve added a much-needed sense of levity to the proceedings.

9. A flaming gong. In the 80s, a highlight of a Van Halen show was when a giant gong was lit and then clubbed into submission by the band’s drummer. This was an improvement on Jimi Hendrix lighting his guitar on fire, because the gong could be lit on fire repeatedly without adding considerably to the tour’s bottom line with replacement guitars (lighting fire to cheap, substitute pawn-shop guitars just doesn’t have the same cache).

8. Auto-tune malfunction.  The device helps people stay in pitch, and, like a corked bat and widely abused steroids in pro baseball— gives an unfair advantage. Lil Wayne, who couldn’t hold a tune if one was in a holding cell with him, should’ve been auto-deleted.

7. A double-necked guitar. Jimmy Page had one, Otto from the Simpsons got funding for one when when Springfield Elementary struck oil and if there’s something missing from this song it’s about 1:45 seconds’ worth of guitar soloing.

6. Didgeridoo. Unfortunately, it could not be fit into the studio.

5. Replacing two-thirds of participants with Tony Bennett. This almost goes without saying. Almost.

4. A singing telegram. Unfortunately, this tradition fell out of favor with the development of the telephone. Still, a viable alternative to Kanye West.

3. A few lines of free verse or a tribute to John Cage’s silent musical piece 4′33″.  According to Cage’s direction (and not to be confused with The Sounds of Silence), this silent piece consisted of  ”sounds of the environment that the listeners hear while it is performed”. In the case of “We are the World” it would’ve been say, Wyclef Jean asking Celine Dion, ‘uh, do you mind not encroaching on my personal space?” as well as fidgeting, texting and coughing.

2. Kodo drummers to drown out most of the histrionics.

1. A cowbell. Because it really needed more cowbell.

Right up there though, a fear of heights excepted, is leaping off something suitably towering as there is nothing that’ll bring you down to earth faster than gravity.

In San Francisco, they know a thing or two about this as the Golden Gate Bridge has launched more bodies than a trade show for trampolines.

A gruesome article in the Chronicle pointed out that after one of these sans parachute skydives, the human body goes from 80 mph to nearly zero in a nanosecond and internal organs tend to keep going according to the physics of inertia—let’s just say that this method of passing is a lot more violent than being smothered in a less than reputable nursing home.

Autopsy reports typically indicate jumpers have lacerated internal organs and don’t always kick it on impact so it behooves the rest of us, should we find someone in such a vulnerable position, to minimize the risk of auto insurance claims being filed below and to help the person out as best we can.

A UK DJ, staking a claim to moral real estate so far-flung it might land him an invite to freelance here, recently played a request for Van Halen’s Jump, while a four-lane highway was closed and traffic snarled due to efforts to talk a suicidal woman down 30 feet. Understandably, this was met with much objection although one editorial pointed out that “the courageous DJ was expressing solidarity and compassion for the poor drivers stuck in traffic.”

Think of this as a PSA of sorts, not that prostate exam but the other kind, for what types of songs should not, under any circumstances, be blasted from the sound-system of your ride when someone is out on a ledge.

10. Jump Flo Rida / Up Where we Belong Joe Cocker Jennifer Warnes

Choice Lyrics:

“Now I’m gonna take it to the roof

Everybody with me got they own parachute.”

and…

“Love lift us up where we belong

Far from the world below.”

9. I’m Gonna Fly Amy Grant

Choice Lyrics

“I’m gonna fly

No one knows where

But I’m gonna fly.”

8. Jumpin Jack Flash  Rolling Stones

Choice Lyrics

“I was drowned

I was washed up and left for dead.”

7. Tonight we Fly   Divine Comedy

Choice Lyrics:

Tonight we fly

Over the chimney tops

Skylights and slates -

Looking into all your lives

And wondering why

Happiness is so hard to find

6. Spread your Wings  Queen

Choice Lyrics

“Fly away, far away.

That’s because you’re a free man.”

5. Jump   Simple Plan

Choice Lyrics

“I wanna break free

I’m so frustrated

I just wanna jump”

4. Free Fallin’   Tom Petty

Choice Lyrics

“Gonna free fall, out into nothin’

Gonna leave this world for a while.”

3. I Believe I can Fly   R Kelly

Choice Lyrics

“I think about it every night and day

Spread my wings and fly away”

2. Learning to Fly   Tom Petty

Choice Lyrics

“Learning to fly when you ain’t got wings,

Comin’ down is the hardest thing”

1. Jump   Van Halen

Choice Lyrics

“Might as well jump, go ahead jump”

Honorable Mentions:

I Fall to Pieces, Patsy Cline, Suicide Solution, Ozzy Osbourne, Another One Bites the Dust, Queen, Fall on Me, R.E.M. Flying without Wings, Westlife, Flight of Icarus, Iron Maiden

With Trudeau, the day of the Canadian politician who looked like the miserable principal of a monochromatic highschool was gone in favor of a man so flashy and cool that John Lennon sought him out for a meeting, while Mick Jagger bedded his wife (not usually a marker of cool if not for the fact that Trudeau was busy bedding ladies who were not his wife in kind). Likewise, Mordecai Richler gave young Canadian writers hope – false though it may have been – that there existed within the Canadian literary scene possibilities beyond the interminable stories about the incest, dementia, and abominable weather conditions faced by frontier families and the godforsaken generations after them also raised alongside a hellacious mosquito-infested bogwater. He brought Canadian literature into the city, wrote brilliant satire and did so with none of the pastoral pretense of a novelist writing as if he’s practicing his Giller acceptance speech or grovelling for a grant.

Leonard Cohen is the sole survivor of these three Montreal maestros, a Canadian singer-songwriter with an air of European cool, who luckily does not croon in Danish. In Leonard Cohen: Hallelujah: A New Biography, honorary Shark Guy and blogger, Tim Footman nimbly dissects the complicated appeal of the “Bard of the Bedsit”. This is not a book meant solely to solely be a one-sided celebration of a man who could be bronzed and put in a park at any moment. What separates Hallelujah from much of what else has been written about Cohen is that it is not afraid to wipe off some of the gloss on the Cohen image. How a man who gives off such an air of assured self-confidence can spend years anxiously fretting over getting a song just right. How the man who apparently has an all-seasons pass to the bedrooms of every woman with a pulse once was left broken-hearted and spurned by the Velvet Underground’s Nico, who may have had Neo-Nazi sentiments to boot.

While most biographers are Cohen fans to the point of blinding themselves to any tears in his “famous blue raincoat”, Footman approaches his subject squarely — celebrating the achievements, while noting the utter failures. (The Cohen song “Fingerprints“, he writes, is “…possibly one of the most horrid and pointless things Cohen has ever recorded, as if he’d resurrected the Buckskin Boys [Cohen's high school band, a country outfit] to sing about divorce at a square dance.”) And unlike some of the Cohen hagiographies that have preceded it, and much in the spirit the great man has shown himself on his recent tour, the book approaches its subject with a welcome sense of humor. Cohen, one presumes, would have wanted it that way. How could he write about being “blessed with a golden voice” if he wasn’t a comedian at heart?

In that spirit, we pick up on a theme in Tim’s book, the consistently terrible cover art that has  accompanied Leonard Cohen’s albums for almost his entire career. The 10 albums pictured below account for a sizable chunk of his oeuvre, and Cohen was not printing these in his basement — much of the work you see done here (with the exception, as noted, of No. 1) was done by top industry professionals.

Here, accompanied by excerpts in italics from Leonard Cohen: Hallelujah are the 10 Ugliest Leonard Cohen Album Covers!

10. More Best Of Leonard Cohen

This is certainly the best looking of the album covers on this list. The main complaint here from a visual standpoint is the use of the Cohen symbols at the bottom, which also litter the sleeves of other Cohen albums and books and here have the effect of someone compounding the youthful folly of getting one ugly tattoo by getting five more to distract from the first. The photo is fine and the font choice makes a valid, though failed attempt to downplay the utterly terrible name of the album — “More Best Of”. It is, as Tim notes, “a stylistic and grammatical abomination of a title if ever there was one.”

9. Songs from a Room

The front image is an improvement on its predecessor [see The Songs of Leonard Cohen, below] , but still no classic: a monochrome shot of the artist looking decidedly stern, on a white background.

8. Various Positions

“… The cover photograph – a stubbly, suddenly old-looking Cohen scowling into the lens of a Polaroid camera – was the depiction of a man who just wanted to get it all over and done with.”

7. Songs of Leonard Cohen.

The album cover for Leonard Cohen’s debut album, an auspicious occasion marred by an image of him conjuring up the image of Michael Corleone, “I don’t feel I have to wipe everybody out, Just my enemies”… Well, whoever green-lighted this font would be high on the hit list.

“The cover design appears to have received little thought: a sepia head shot of the performer, taken in a photo booth in Montreal, with the album’s title in lettering that may have appeared cutting-edge at the time, but now looks dated to the point of self-parody… Half-assed as it was, this would by no means turn out to be the worst packaging to adorn Cohen’s work.”

6. Death of a Ladies’ Man

Not a fine moment in album photography and with a font and use of bars that date it more than Cohen’s youthful looks. Also unappealing, the look on Cohen’s ex-wife’s Suzanne Elrod’s face, one more commonly seen as weekend visitation rights for the family dog are worked out in divorce court.

5. Songs of Love and Hate

“Much of the album is pretty bleak, comprising the sort of songs that Cohen-haters and Cohen-mockers point to when they suggest that he just makes music to accompany whimpering and wrist-slashing. … The cover isn’t so great, either: white lettering on black, with an inexpertly cut head shot of an unshaven Cohen, grinning like a beatific hobo.”

4. The Future

“The cover is rather mediocre as well, resembling the sort of tattoo an accountant might get to celebrate a divorce.”

3. Recent Songs

The cover (an amateurish portrait of Cohen, based on a photograph taken by Hazel Field) was pretty ropey, but diehard fans had by now become used to that sort of thing.

2. Cohen Live (1994)

“What do you think of when you think Leonard Cohen?” “Uggh, the moon… castles…” “Perfect, put that on there, and add some other crap on the side. Limit yourself to the colors available on a 1984 Commodore 64 computer.”

1. Dear Heather

Dear Heather: “… The album sleeve is an absolute shocker, resembling nothing so much as the packaging for a range of feminine hygiene products from about 1986, decorated with the Chinese symbol for his monastic name, ‘Jikan’. Cohen has nobody to blame for this, as it’s based on one of his own drawings.”

—-

Of course, we kid Leonard and these covers do not reflect the content of the albums… mostly.  Tim Footman closes out his book with a list of his 10 favorite Leonard Cohen songs, and Noel, the more die-hard Leonard Cohen fan of the two SharkGuys, thought he’d do the same so here is:

Noel’s Top 10 Favorite Leonard Songs:
1) Sisters of Mercy
2) Ballad Of The Absent Mare
3) Everybody Knows
4) Hey That’s No Way To Say Goodbye
5) Famous Blue Raincoat
6) Bird on The Wire
7) Closing Time
8) Waiting for The Miracle
9) Chelsea Hotel # 2
10) I Can’t Forget

Indie though can also refer to a cheap marketing gambit devised to give big-label artists embarrassed by their success, the kind of street cred you can only get by getting shot 9 times (and indie bands never get shot, probably because of a lack of readily available firearms in recently gentrified neighborhoods and also because they’re an emaciated, malnourished target, especially in profile).

Some of your more successful indie bands (give yourself a round of ironic applause if you notice this is actually an oxymoron) have commonly held attributes that don’t jive with their efforts to be perceived as unique and highly original by the mainstream.

Here then, as a companion piece to our How to be a Rock Critic —Top 10 Tips for Becoming a Successful Indie Band (warning: stop reading if you’ve studied music formally, would never consider wearing a black vest or a plaid shirt—not together— or if your parents earn less than $145,000 in household income).

1. Give yourself a name that is difficult or confusing to read and pronounce.

This strategy has also been particularly effective in keeping patrons out of restaurants run by money launderers. MGMT is a perfect example. If record stores still existed, one of your social betters working there decked out in a winter hat in the middle of a heat wave, would make fun of your inability to know that this in fact stands for ‘mega-meat’ (and not, as some would have you believe, the act of getting people together to accomplish desired goals and objectives in a business setting or reading the letters M, G, M T aloud).

2. Have one, but no more than one, non-white member.

Although it is a guarantee that this band member will not in any way contribute any aspects of their ethno-musical heritage to the group, having their family attend a gig is one way to break the all-Caucasian audience share.

3. Pick a band name that is as long as possible.

For example: That’s not What I Said that’s Just what you Think I Said (if you do indeed go with this band name, please credit us in the liner notes and allow us to sing backing vocals for at least one track on your upcoming project—but bear in mind, the performance will be phoned in—literally as well, as the two of us live in different hemispheres). For more on this, please see our 25 Horrible Bands Named after Places.

4. Make sure that the bass player does not inadvertently strike a bass note.

This would result in ironic movement from one foot to the other, which is known in this cultural set as ‘dancing’.

5. Have two band members or ideally, as many as possible.

The former is preferable as the math for figuring out how to split songwriting royalties 14 different ways is far too complex. However, a greater variety of thrift-store clothing can be showcased with a larger ensemble.

6. At least one band member requires an ironic mustache or a beard.

If the latter, dressed like a confederate soldier and the former, a recently paroled sex offender or foil in a bad improv comedy troupe.

7. Play an undersized keyboard.

This is surprisingly important and we’re not sure why. However it is important that chords are avoided and to simply plunk away at single notes like a highly trained parrot, to make weird noises, or better still a loop of someone leaving a particularly poignant voice-mail.

8. No member of the band, male or female should exceed 120 lbs.

This is pretty easy to enforce as the same rules apply here as they do in the world of fashion—funds that would ordinarily go toward groceries go to procuring cocaine and cases of beer once preferred by the working class.

9. Definitely no guitar solos.

This is indicative of attempting to achieve some kind of technical expertise, an outward sign of effort. For those who are unaware, a guitar solo consists of showcased, consecutively played notes, often played melodically so that it stands out from the rest of the band.

10. Album titles are inversely proportional to the length of the band’s name.

For example: You Really Should have Known that Your Actions Would have Consequences, C’mon, by 3! (this does not, as of yet exist but we’ve heard their demo and think it’s quite promising). The new album by All Hail Our Conquering Heroes, our Mighty Overlords would be called ‘mauve’ [lower case].

The more traditional 'barrel in the mouth' works just as well.

by guest columnist Mike Sauve

More than anything else I am a Bob Dylan fan.  Nothing gets my blood boiling like an ignorant staff reviewer sent to the local Bob Dylan show.  They Google him.  They make shallow, obvious observations about his voice and his hat.  The hat is always mentioned by the third paragraph.  Last night I found myself in a similar position, sent on assignment by The Shark Guys to a sold-out Jimmy Buffett show at the Air Canada Centre [Editor's note: the conversation went something like this. MS: "I have free tickets to a Jimmy Buffet show". Shark Guys: "Oh my god, that sounds absolutely awful. Please write about it."]

What I knew about Buffett going in:  most of the lyrics to Margaritaville, he was friends with Hunter S. Thompson, and in a recent interview Bob Dylan [reviewed by the Shark Guys here] listed him among his favourite songwriters.  This generated some enthusiasm but then I listened to Cheeseburger in Paradise on Youtube and the tropical wind went out of my sails pretty quick.

On the subway ride I saw a lot of drunk senior citizens with low IQs in Hawaiian garb.  I’ve never been to a Weird Al Yankovic concert but I imagine in 20 years this is what his audience will look like.  Minus the beachwear.

I find my seats a few songs late and notice the teal-shirted, shoeless Buffett had easily filled the Air Canada Centre.  The crowd was more boisterous than the Neil Young show I’d seen here, and this is Young’s home turf.  Buffett is considerably richer.  It just doesn’t add up.  There were palm trees and unironic crashing waves on a video screen that must have been purchased from a stock footage sale in 1993.  The tour was called Summerzcool.  Is a joke even necessary here?

Many drove a long way to be there, like the 40-year old functional illiterates behind me.  (I’m speculating on their literacy)  The most offensive gentleman had consumed an estimated 38 beers in his van prior to the show and had the loud drunkenness only excessive beer-drinking can provide.  When Buffett crooned the relatively pleasant Captain Tony the drunk aggressively screamed this raspy demand:  “Everyone should get up and dance to this shit.”

I feared he was addressing me, cynically taking notes and not standing or swaying to the grating tropical drums.  But it was his companions he made this demand of, including the poor wife who was holding him up. “This could be the last time we see Jimmy.”

There was a desperate love for Jimmy in his voice.  Like most people at big-name concerts they required some kind of transformative experience.  However, their dancing and drunk screaming didn’t seem appropriate for the 100-level seats.

I have to say a couple of folkier numbers almost won me over.  A new song There’s Plenty To Drink About had plenty of topical references (Levi Johnston, Bernie Madoff) in true Weird Al fashion. Still, I started thinking, “This guy isn’t such a bad songwriter after all.”  But then he unleashed Surfing In a Hurricane, which consists of precious little more than the title refrain. I began to think of Buffett as the world’s greatest con man.

He also had the nerve to reference Leonard Cohen then proceeded to inflict some clownish spasms while massacring Cohen’s The Gypsy’s Wife. He was either trying to pantomime the exaggerated stage motions of Cohen or having a stroke.  Either way it left a bad taste in my mouth that could only be cleansed by a $12 beer and a one-hitter in the bathroom.

He also name-checked Gordon Lightfoot, and in a rare humble moment said it was his goal to be 1/10th the songwriter Lightfoot was.  Something is wrong with a society that elevates Jimmy Buffett to arena rock while Lightfoot wanders the country playing casinos.  Lightfoot was at Massey Hall last night, and I tried to astrally project myself there but the volatile alcoholic vibes in the Jimmy audience prevented the necessary peace of mind.

I finally stood when Margaritaville was played for the sole reason that two very attractive girls were dancing quite boisterously beside me.  They glanced in my direction a couple times and I tried to play it suave.  A couple brooding looks in their direction, an heir of sophistication.  I could not manifest an enthusiasm to match theirs so I thought an alternative to the madness might work.  It did not.  Moments later they were seen in a drunken embrace with the loud, drunken 40 year old monster’s two male friends.  This seemed completely unjust on an obvious level, but not surprising.  Then a song came on that involved the audience making shark fins by placing their arms in a steeple shape above their heads and rotating them from left to right as the song demanded.  The pretty girls did this with great zeal and I was glad not to have made their acquaintance.

This morning I listened to Jimmy’s greatest hits on Youtube and was surprised to hear a number of very pleasing ballads, many actually on par with lesser Gordon Lightfoot tunes.  But this was sacrificed to hurricane surfing and shark-finning in his live show, so I must turn my nose up not at Jimmy, but at the aged inebriates that reward a talented folk singer for turning into some marijuana-referencing Raffi for dull adults.

Mike Sauve is a Toronto freelancer who’s written for the National Post, the Toronto International Film Festival and Exclaim Magazine

What we’ve learned this week is that the media cycle is about as long as a laundry one, provided you’ve got enough coins.

At a recent New York show featuring his bandmate’s Joe Perry Project, otherwise known as Joe Perry and 4 other guys who’ll work for tips, Steven Tyler pointed out that he was in fact, not leaving Aerosmith: “Joe Perry, you are a man of many colours but I, motherfucker, am the rainbow”, a phrase he should copyright and use for a book and then credit us.

Here’s our list of the Top 20 Best Aerosmith Songs that have cemented the band’s legacy should they decide to quit, or host some kind of Vaudeville talent review or scour the professional karaoke circuit to select their next singer.

1. Walk This Way. One of the greatest drum intros of all time, something Kanye would interrupt to concede.

2. Last Child. Funk rock the way it should be done, not the way the Red Hot Chili Peppers do it.

3. F.I.N.E. Rockin’ rave up from the decent Pump album.

4. Hangman Jury. Steven Tyler is an underrated harp player, that’s harmonica not the kind of thing abused by French romantic composers.

5. When the Lightnin’ Strikes. Prime sleaze rock in the vein of the Stones, or in one of Keith’s punctured ones.

6. Toys in the Attic. Great 75 track when the band was arguably at their creative peak.

7. Draw the Line. Criminally underrated 1977 rock with one of their best riffs.

8. Dream On. Pretty C minor ballad.

9. Permanent Vacation. Steel drums in a rock ‘n’ roll context and the great line, “My nose is clean and lord I don’t need no sedation”.

10. Mama Kin. Covered by Guns ‘N’ Roses, whose new album we reviewed here.

11. Hearts Done Time. Amazing sing-along from Permanent Vacation

12. Magic Touch. Ditto.

13. Sweet Emotion. Song from the iconic open shot of Dazed and Confused, blasted out of an orange GTO because “getting Aerosmith tickets is the top priority of the summer”.

14. Same Old Song and Dance. Steven Tallarico’s scat

15. The Other Side. Co-written with hired gun songwriter Jim Vallance, who is responsible, almost criminally, for the terrible Bryan Adams hit “Cuts like a Knife”

16. Back in the Saddle. HEAVY bass.

17. What it Takes. Excellent ballad with lots of great chords.

18. Train Kept a Rollin’, their version of the Tiny Bradshaw tune

19. Dude (Looks like a Lady) / Chiquita. Dude was about Vince Neil from Motley Crue, long before his career took a tumble and he ended up on the Surreal Life.

20. Rag Doll. Really cool sax and slide guitar

Frequently lauded for his dialogue (Who would’ve thought a cheeseburger would be called something different in a place where English isn’t the official language?), there is enough of it in his movies that even with all that carnage, it requires taking an entire afternoon off to sit through a whole screening, if you’re one to forgo work and do that type of thing (we are).

QT and his  Ol’ Dirty ‘Basterds’ are out there defining the term, but what exactly is a ‘Basterd?’

According to cast member Christoph Waltz, a ‘Basterd’ “has all of the evolutionary advantages on his side. Mutation through reproduction widens his game infinitely, more so than the pedigree who has to stick to the limitations of the breed.” [Editor's note: What in the f*ck does that mean?] Tarantino has this to say about the term:  “I think “basterds” as a compliment still keeps its old connotation. It still keeps the bad connotation.”

Anyway. Original 80s rock Basterds Van Halen are on tour, according to Rolling Stone and Rock Band: Van Halen is coming out just in time for Christmas to give all would-be fake guitarists conniptions  and carpal tunnel over the yuletide season.

Speaking of chronic pain, during their last tour Eddie was hobbled by pain in his hand. In a sentiment that habitual gamers everywhere can relate to, Van Halen noted that his “pinky and thumb were totally locked up and felt like there was something broken.”

After pondering what the sound was of one hand clapping, Ed sought help from hand specialists in Dusseldorf, Germany, and apparently the band is back in business and hitting the road. We can only assume they are touring with former paramedic and peripatetic prominent forehead Diamond David Lee Roth, who, it should be said is at the other cranial extreme of a Tarantino.

As kids who grew up in the 80s, learning his songs, idolizing Van Halen and noting his good taste for lending his frenzied guitar work to Michael Jackson’s Beat It, there is only one frontman for Halen and that’s Roth.  If you doubt Roth’s immense talent, check out these stellar mash-ups: Billie Jean, and Drive my Car.

Why is this relevant? Well, one us saw Van Halen as a first ever concert experience at Toronto’s Skydome, notable for the lead singer of the opening act saying to a crowd increasingly hostile to music that wasn’t Van Halen, ‘F*ck you, you people at the front are the only ones I care about”. And then,  after failing to get a response in kind from those in the front shouted, ‘F*ck you too then’ and stormed off the stage. That band was Alice in Chains.

Along with VH (but not together) Guns ‘n’ Roses, whose Chinese Democracy album we reviewed here, are also going to head out on tour in 2010.

This one goes to 11 and that’s one louder isn’t it?

It’d be simple to suggest, ‘Sure, the entire catalog of Barry White songs’ , but that’s easy for you to say, given that it’s much easier to read our blog three times a week than it is to write it (if you don’t believe that’s true, feel free to forward your resume and we’ll consider taking on a guest columnist for a week. Be forewarned: diamond miners in the Ivory Coast get better job perks). So, here we delve into some low, low-voiced karaoke song choices the next time the gravelly voiced among you grace the mic of your local karaoke bar and cause more ears to bleed than Mike Tyson after Ramadan. That the majority of these songs aren’t strictly in the lower register is a testament to how annoying a low rumbling that usually precedes aftershocks can be. That being said, a few feature earth-ware shattering and pet-frightening bottom ends the whole way through.

These are our favorites, in no particular order.

Elvira: Oak Ridge Boys

Say what you will about the Family Guy (it’s a cheap Simpsons knock-off, the setups are obvious, it’s crude, it’s offensive just for the sake of being offensive) but this song was used to great effect when daughter Meg Griffin was having sexual identity issues in one episode.

Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up Oom Poppa Omm Poppa Mow Mow

Can you Get to That: Funkadelic

A relatively unknown gem from the gray matter of the Funkmaster General himself, George Clinton, featuring a rare acoustic guitar.  One verse (around the two minute mark), cranked to chest-pounding oblivion will have the downstairs neighbors putting in a call to the landlord.

Daddy Sang Bass:  Johnny Cash and the Statler Brothers

For this song, you don’t want to be saddled with the high pitch ‘Mama sang tenor’, seen here. Mama singing tenor is a guarantee of army boots footwear

Old Man River: William Warfield (written by  Jerome Kern)

Bass solos are decidedly rare in musicals, but we wouldn’t know it as we’re more likely to attend an exhibition of Mayan ceramic pottery than ever attend a musical, but to each their own. Actually, if the other kind of bass solo was prevalent in musicals (say, the funk slapping of Flea or Bootsy Collins), that would make the likes of the dreary Jersey Boys much more easy to stomach (we’re guessing, though we wouldn’t want to test out that theory regardless)

Cover of the Rolling Stone:  Dr Hook

Terrific bass part here in this send-up of the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle with “I got a freaky old lady named Cocaine Katie who embroiders all my jeans. I got my old gray haired daddy, drivin’ my limousine”. This song was re-released in the UK without the phrase ‘Rolling Stone’ (as that was considered advertising for the magazine). We cannot confirm what happened with the Temptation’s Papa was a Rolling Stone

Mmmm Mmmm Mmmm: Crash Test Dummies

These Crash Test Dummies have not been  roadworthy for a while now, probably because people’s taste for a lead singer who sings in a baritone range are limited to those who’ve lost their hearing in the upper register.

You’re a Mean One, Mr Grinch

One Fish Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. Who doesn’t love Dr Seuss or for that matter, the Grinch, he of the heart that is ‘two sizes too small’. How the Grinch Stole Christmas criticized the commercialization of Christmas, a perfect excuse for readers to check out our Top 20 Crappy Christmas Tree Ornaments Found on EBAY

Can’t Get Enough of Your Love:  Barry White

White made a great appearance on the Simpsons (‘Whacking Day’), chasing the snakes out of the town of Springfield by disturbing them with his low rumbling

Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen

A great song from LC, completely butchered by Bon Jovi (cover your ears and please see our Worst Bon Jovi Cover Songs, but don’t say we didn’t warn you). There are countless versions of this song, but none come close to the original. For more Cohen, please see our number one slot for the Top 10 Bar Songs of All Time, songs about bars.

Chantilly Lace:  Big Bopper

Now THIS is the segue of all segues…Dr Bill Bass, founder of the research facility at the University of Tennessee nicknamed the ‘Body Farm’, actually dug up and exhumed the body of the Big Bopper (don’t worry, the Bass-man got family permission). Hellllllllooooo babbbbbyy….

Michael Jackson was the king of the tabloids (who until yesterday were referring to him as “The Self-Proclaimed King of Pop” – get ready for more shameless post-mortem backstepping than after Diana’s death), the wellspring of more checkout-aisle drivel than anyone who has ever lived – yes, we stand by what would be hyperbole about anyone else – and the punchline to more late-night monologue jokes than OJ Simpson and any two American presidents you got combined. Hell as recently as Monday, we were pulling out of the gift-that-keeps-giving Jacko joke bag.

But we’re also children’ of the 1980s, a decade that thankfully preceded the YouTube generation. Had somebody’s mobile phone camera been trained on us back in those days you might have seen one or both of us in those leather jackets with zippers, pitting a Michael Jackson doll in an uneven fight with a Mr. T action figure, or wearing one glove (doing so and coming through Canadian winters with all fingers accounted for was just good luck). Neither of us would ever own up to behind-closed-doors moonwalking, but let’s just say that Michael Jackson was as much a part of 80s childhoods as He-Man, bad cinema, and insatiable yuppie greed that shat on the hopes and ideals of the two decades that preceded it.

Chris remembers hearing Thriller for the first time at his cousin’s house and it blowing his mind. Noel remembers a running feud with an older neighbor kid who ridiculed him for saying (in the chirpish voice of youth) that Thriller and Bad were awesome. The neighbor insisted that Michael Jackson was just a poor man’s Lionel Richie and was not afraid of doling out a noogie to get his point across. (If that guy’s reading today, let’s just say that, Thriller, the best-selling album of all time – which in effect is an untouchable record because computer piracy has killed the album – well, it wasn’t put out by Lionel.) What we both remember are sounds that will forever be there in our minds. We think back to our childhoods and remember this music and – unlike the majority of 80s television and the second Terminator film – it stands the test of time, and we give ourselves credit for not having tin ears at that age.

Of course, then there were the 1990s. Michael Jackson’s musical output deteriorated and things got from cute weird – who wouldn’t want a pet chimpanzee (though maybe not to hang around with an aged Liz Taylor) – to the kind of weird that made liking him as a musician an awkward thing to admit.

It seems that if you’re a celebrity from a humble start, that included in the welcome gift bag you get upon entry into the club of the super fabulous is a posse of bloodsuckers incapable of giving advice other than “I think it’s time you sign the monthly pay slips, boss.” Throw in a mind that is not exactly a specimen of sound health and the results are inevitable – Howard Hughes insane and pissing in specimen bottles while his fortune crumbles, Mike Tyson boxing tomato cans for the minimal cash that’s in it, Michael Jackson building the Neverland Ranch, and inviting children into a world that screamed, “We find on behalf of the plaintiff”.

The charges against him lose some steam when you look at those making them.  What manner of person sends their kids for pajama parties at the home of a pop star who is, at best, a troubled middle-aged man who thinks cotton candy should be available on demand?

We’re not the types to look back on Annie Hall or Hannah and Her Sisters with a perspective skewed by the Soon-Yi affair – they remain classics… though we will drop Woody like a turd from a tall horse if he does another film with Scarlett Johansson. (Some things are just unforgivable). A creative work of merit stands above and apart from the personal shortcomings of its creator. Thank the pharaohs for that or we’d be in trouble.

For those of us who grew up with his sounds causing us early ear drum damage, his music gets the first two or three tracks of our life soundtracks.

Michael Jackson produced more great music between the ages of six and eight than any of the Idol programs will produce in their entire run. R.I.P.

From CardCow.com

Most songwriters will at some point pen an ode to the place that gave them the early inspiration to pursue a career in music — i.e. the taunts of jocks or the realization that guys who can play guitar stand a better chance of getting laid than even the most advanced Dungeons and Dragons master.

As Spinal Tap made clear, few things can rouse a crowd out of a beer stupor more effectively than shouting out “Hello ___ [insert name of podunk town here]” and if you can actually work a place name into your song, then you have a sentimental favorite that will last as long as there are DJs picking songs who have not gone beyond a 50-kilometre radius of their birth homes in their entire lives.

Something appeals about state songs — Shark Guy Noel is still looking for the right chanteuse to get behind his St. Catharines, Ontario-inspired toe-tapper, “Pardon My Garden City”.  There is mileage to be had out of the state song whether it is coopted as part of a state tourism campaign or used in an ironic, mocking way by some smart-ased filmmaker exorcising the demons of his teenage years. In Part One of Our US State Song list, we brought you from Alaska to Mississippi, hope you weren’t stung by anything too horrific on that trip, and today it’s the more boring sounding trip of Missouri to Wyoming.Here is Part Two of Our Rundown of Songs for Every State!

Missouri: Missouri Moon, Rhonda Vincent. Across the Wide Missouri, Weavers. Rejected license plate slogan: Missouri Loves Company. One of the best movies ever set in Missouri, (though admittedly, this is a list about as long as your arm if you fell asleep during workplace safety classes at the saw mill) is Roadhouse. This movie we feel, gives us a fairly accurate representation of what it must be like to live in the state when you cannot pay your bar tab.

Montana: Montana Skies, John Denver. Montana, Frank Zappa. Stephen Colbert would not like Montana, home to the largest grizzly bear population in the lower 48 states (In Alaska, they drive cars and can vote in municipal elections). Montana did not fare too well in the state song sweepstakes with these two. We guess all that wide open space can drive a man to think some crazy things, as evidenced in Zappa’s “Montana”, which he calls the perfect place to… uh… grow a crop of dental floss. The song does however have the distinction of offering the strangest ever reference to wrangling in a song: “With a pair of zircon-encrusted tweezers in my hand/every other wrangler would say I was mighty grand.”

Nebraska: Nebraska, Bruce Sprinsteen. Nick Nolte, Marlon Brando, Fred Astaire and Montgomery Clift were born in Omaha, which is also the subject of an awful Counting Crows song. These random births in a little-heard-of state have whatever significance you may attach to them — in our case that is no significance whatsoever. But they were born there, unless someone edits Wikipedia within the hour you’re reading this and proves us wrong.

New Jersey: Jersey Girl, Tom Waits. New Jersey is my Home, Bruce Springsteen. New Jersey is consistently referred to as the Armpit of America, and who are we to judge having only been to Jersey City, Newark…er…as far as ‘judgability’ goes, we could probably be given a gavel and robe. On the plus side (the New York side), we hear Hoboken is nice and nowhere near the place Frank Sinatra refused to acknowledge as his home town. Here’s a list of 5 Reasons Not to Move to New Jersey.

Nevada: Sands of Nevada, Mark Knopfler. Stop in Nevada, Billy Joel. The name Nevada means ’snow covered’ in Spanish and ‘brothel’ in Esperanto. Both of these are right on the money in their own way. Knopfler’s gambler’s lament tells of a pain felt by many visitors of Nevada, the unofficial state motto of which is, “Supporting children — the government can always help you out.”

New Hampshire: New Hampshire, Sonic Youth. Ten points to the first person who can explain to us what the hell Sonic Youth is going on about in this song. New Hampshire is a lovely place — one of us visited stately Mt. Washington and has the “This car climbed Mt. Washington” bumper sticker (mint condition) to prove it — but few things rhyme with Hampshire and this state hasn’t exactly inspired a musical treasure trove.

New Mexico: New Mexico, Johnny Cash. Taos, New Mexico, Waylon Jennings. Cash’s song is unlikely to feature at state sporting events or beauty pageants. Here’s the ending: To all you happy people/This much I have to say/Go back to your friends and loved ones/Tell others not to go/To the god forsaken country/They call New Mexico

New York: New York New York, Frank Sinatra. New York State Police, UK Subs. Old Jersey Frankie might have been singing about NYC, but an exception will suffice — after all, it’s the city so nice they named it twice. As Ontario residents, we have yet to hear a good song about cross-border pillaging when currency fluctuations allow… we may just pen such a ditty ourselves.

North Carolina: Charlotte’s in NC, Colonel Keith Whitley. Just a little bit South of North Carolina, Dean Martin.  The pride of Sandy Hook, Kentucky (no mean feat as the second set of traffic lights erected swells many a chest), Colonel Keith Whitley, and from one rat-packer to another, Dean Martin subtly mocks the arbitrary creation of two states when one really big one would suffice with this subversive tune

North Dakota: North Dakota, Lyle Lovett. Another state that wants to think it’s Germany before the Berlin Wall came down. When Julia Roberts married Lyle Lovett, it was a weirder romantic match than Celine Dion and that creepy svengali she hooked up with at an age that would have even Woody Allen say, ‘Meh, she should have a few miles on her first’. Still, Lyle is a great talent, and while the same cannot be said for his ex-wife, we wish her all the best and hope she makes a movie one day that doesn’t remind us in graphic and immediate fashion of what we had for breakfast.

Ohio: Ohio, CSNY. Look at Miss Ohio, Gillian Welch. As young fellas, we joined a couple of buddies and made a lemon out of a rental car by putting 3,800 kilometres on it on a road trip from Toronto to New Orleans. We stopped in Ohio, where the snow made it look like Canada, and caught the wonder of Mansfield’s Denny’s in a blizzard. We also saw John Lennon’s broken death glasses at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and one of Bono’s creepy, small-sized stage costumes,  and later we remarked that Cincy looked nice from the bridge. Such is our knowledge of Ohio. And for those who want to follow Gillian’s advice and look at Miss Ohio, well she’s on the left.

Oklahoma: Oklahoma. Oklahoma Borderline, Vince Gill. Okie from Muskogee inspired Asshole from El Paso. And anybody who has ever watched a Broadway musical and thought “That could have used more chaps,” will enjoy this one. The Shark Guys wrote a song for a revival of this musical called “Idle Thoughts of a Singing Shit-Kicker”, but, sadly, it was rejected.

Oregon: Portland, Oregon, Jack White Loretta Lynn. Jack White’s band, The White Stripes always wear, black, red and white, “the most powerful color combination of all time, from a Coca-Cola can to a Nazi banner” and for some reason this makes sense coming from Mr White, a former upholsterer. This song doesn’t have a whole lot to do with Oregon as you can get shamelessly drunk and sleep with a stranger in any state of the union — though watch what laws you’re violating in Utah — such is the beauty of cheap booze. “Next day we knew last night got drunk/But we loved enough for the both of us/In the morning when the night had sobered up/It was much too late for the both of us in Oregon.” That might be the best defence of drunk sex we’ve ever read “loved enough for the both of us”. Must be all those great microbrews they have in Oregon.

Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania 6-5000, Brian Setzer, Pennsylvania, Bloodhound Gang. Pennsylvania is home to three much-maligned cities, Scranton (because of the good, but not as good as the UK version of The Office), Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, but Steeltown is Shitsburgh no more and Philly is the kind of place where it’s fun to get silly. We’re in a rhyming mood today, what of it?  Here we offer you two songs from different hemispheres of the musical globe. First person to inform us what a wawa is gets 10 points.

Rhode Island: Road to Rhode Island, as heard on Family Guy. Family Guy undoubtedly is a comedic fart in the wind compared to the Simpsons’… chronic gastro-intestinal condition of animated situation comedy? Not as well written or heartfelt as the Simpsons in its heyday, but pretty good nonetheless at least in the “throw as many jokes at the viewer even if the majority don’t stick”, school of comedy, here is a musical number on the Griffin family’s home state.

South Carolina: Cocaine Carolina, Johnny Cash and David Allan Coe. South Carolina, Archers of Loaf. We won’t get into the whole why North/South state divisions will be banned in the new order, but South Carolina did get recognized in these two songs. Cocaine Carolina features the amazing lyric: “Feeling like my belly was a warehouse for the blues.” For those of you interested in reading our list of our fave Cocaine Songs, click here

South Dakota: South Dakota, Liz Phair. South Dakota Morning, Bee Gees: One of these songs is filled with the angst of telling off big city folk without mincing words, and the other one is something that a poncey git wrote down when he saw an eagle fly above him while out on the patio in some godforsaken South Dakota backwater. Lyrics from the first: “Born in South Dakota /Hey, we’re going to a rodeo town/I’m gonna get drunk and fuck some cows/Hey all you city fucks, it’s a praireman’s world.” Lyrics from the second song: “The eagle flies on a South Dakota morning/And I don’t see my eagle anymore/Now stranger, I must kill you/You must survive, but will you.” The Bee Gees are only slight less threatening than bakery icing, so we’ll go with Liz Phair for giving the better tribute to the state that is still home to Deadwood, wellspring of the best damn television series in the history of the medium. Deadwood that is.

Tennessee: Tennessee Stud, Jimmie Driftwood as performed by Doc Watson. Lebanon, Tennessee, Ron Sexsmith. The Mercy Lounge in Cannery Row, Nashville, is one of the greatest live music venues you’ll ever come across, and this is in a city that boasts the Grand Old Opry and the Ryman Auditorium. Lucky bastards. Tennessee Stud is a travelling tale, telling of horses won on bets and a lonesome cowboy travelling back to Tennessee to find his true love (and he also matches up his horse with his woman’s, which is damned convenient. He describes his hurdles getting back: We loped on back across Arkansas/
I whipped her brother and I whipped her pa/I found that girl with the golden hair/And she was ridin’ on a Tennessee mare.

Texas: T for Texas, Jimmie Rodgers. Texas Flood, SRV. Luckenbach Texas, Waylon Jennings. On that southern road trip many moons ago, we pulled into Meridian, Mississippi to find a greasy spoon and fortuitously happened upon the birthplace of the brilliant Jimmie Rodgers, who noted in this tune, that T is for Texas. We defaced something in the park there and moved on.

Utah: Red Hills of Utah, Marty Robbins. History of Utah, Camper Van Beethoven. Marty Robbins might be a prophet of the Mormon faith, for he doth spake:”If it’s just like my dreams/Then I must go and see/For the red hills of Utah are callin’ me”. Good gawd, just what that state needs.

Vermont: Moonlight in Vermont, Billie Holiday. Vermont, Cursive. Vermont is often stereotyped as a bastion of sandal-wearing, roller blading, wool sweater-clad, Vegan, detoxing, ‘Eat more kale’ bumpersticker sporting, scented candle & patchouli paintywaists. Well that’s no so bad. British Columbia is like that, but there’s more chance of tumbling down a bigger mountain there.

Virginia: Sweet Virginia, Rolling Stones. Straight Outta Virginia, Timbaland / Magoo. Virginia is about a girl, as is the unbelievably bad, Meet Virginia, by Train. Soon to be home of the Golden Girls-inspired musical, “Yes Virginia, there is a mentopause.”

Washington DC: Washington Bullets, The Clash, To Washington John Mellencamp, Christmas in Washington, Steve Earle: From personal experience, one of us remembers that the only part of this city you’d want to risk whistling one of these songs in is far away from Obama’s digs. A city where the mayor smoked crack because he had to.

Washington State: Fun in Washington, Afroman.  Quite possibly the worst song here, no, correct that. THE worst song here…uh…correction again…Could be the worst song anywhere.

West Virginia: Take me Home Country Road, John Denver, Leaving West Virginia, Kathy Mattea. One’s comin’ and the other’s goin’. Also by John Denver: “Hi, I’m John Denver, and I just wrote a song about your state.”

Wisconsin: Wisconsin, Samiam, The Cheese Song, Bruce Kerr. “Everyone is so delighted, in a world so white, clean, and safe.” Delighted might be too strong a word, how about stifled?

Song of Wyoming, John Denver. Emperor of Wyoming, Neil Young: John Denver back again and even Neil Young chips in and the last time he sang about Americans he got a vicious retort (see Part One of our list) in return.