This Isn’t Woodstock, It Is Laughingstock

Ever had one of those times in life where you need an alternative that would help you with the bad stuff of life like; bad health, bad wealth, bad habits, bad luck and a car that has bad brakes? A good escape is to have a beer, attend a concert and hear some great music.

Once again the option of going to a concert and enjoying some good music will not be available at the Warren Amphitheater. That is because once again, the Amp will feature lame ass music by tribute bands. For 2017 there will be pseudo bands of: Kiss, Queen, Pink Floyd, Jimmy Buffett, Jason Aldean, “Aeroscrud,” Led Zeppelin, Rush, Journey and the Eagles.

I have never attended any of the shows as I’d much rather hear the worst band in the world as long as they were playing originals. Here’s where I make enemies. The truth is I wouldn’t have gone to see any of the above classic rock acts even if they were the originals band. I have never ever been a Queen fan. I could never understand how they could play a Nazi goosestep beat and sing, ‘We Will Rock You.” Not with that beat you won’t Fred. And what in the Hell is that “Bohemian Rhapsody” about? “Galileo you’re a boy scout he will not let you go.” What the F.

As far as Pink Floyd the beat to “Another Brick in the Wall” is just as bad. I’ve heard enough Floyd that I never have to hear it again. Hearing, “Wish You Were Here” would just make me say, “I Wish I Wasn’t Here.”

Jimmy Buffett, ever notice how dunk people at his concerts are? You don’t stand a fighting chance of enjoying the concert if you decide to see Jimmy sober. I can’t get that drunk to appreciate him. I also hate foofoo mixed drinks. Alcohol should be able to stand on its own without a mix or it ain’t crap. You’re drinking the wrong stuff if you need to cut it with a mix so try a shot of Jameson. I personally love singer-songwriter music. The great ones write tunes about love, life and pain. Jimmy writes about margaritas and cheeseburgers. It’s as if the Applebee’s’ happy hour menu was his inspiration.

Speaking of having to be shitfaced drunk to enjoy the music, we have a tribute band doing Justin Aldean’s corporate country style of music. That should please some of Trumbull County’s outer region’s redneck shitkickers. They will be able to attend now that the cable company has provided DVR’s so that these outer region sidewalk cowboys can tape, “Duck Dynasty” and Honey Boo Boo that evening. It will be an hour and a half beer commercial. Aldean will acknowledge his audience when he asks, “Where are my rednecks?” The ones not puking at that moment will howl,  yee haw.”  Aldean who was married with two kids stuck his tongue down the throat of another woman in the middle of a public bar. Because he is a punk who can’t hold his liquor he blamed it on being drunk. Because of these lowlife antics he was rewarded with the job of hosting the CMT awards. Aldean is poser country music for poser country music fans. He likes to trash Justin Beiber at concerts. That is because Aldean is the Justin Beiber of country music.
“Aerosrud” wrote “Love in an Elevator” and “Dude Looks Like a Lady.” If you didn’t know it from those lame ass songs they were using heroin. Those songs in themselves should be enough reason for kids not to do drugs. Just say no to “Dude Looks Like a Lady.” Aeroscrud has always been a third rate Rolling Stones. Who needs a third rate Rolling Stones? If we do we’ve got the last 35 years of the Stones third-rate career. Don’t “Start Up” Jagger it’s too late.

Kiss is not a band it is capitalism exploited to the max. Is there anything Kiss related that Gene Simmons isn’t having made by 8 year-olds at sweatshops in China? What genius wrote, “Hot, Hot She Looked Hotter than Hell?” Probably the same genius in Foreigner that wrote, “She’s as Cold as Ice to Me.”

Rush is the anchovies of rock music. 99% of us don’t want anchovies anywhere near our pizza. They are an overproduced, overrated staple of bland Classic Rock radio. Sticking knitting needles in your ears would be less painful than listen to Geddy Lee’s constipated screeching.  Here are the lyrics to Rush’s , “Xanadu,”
“To stand within the Pleasure Dome/Decreed by Kubla Khan/To taste anew the fruits of life/The last immortal man/To find the sacred river Alph/To walk the caves of ice/Oh, I will dine on honeydew/And drink the milk of Paradise.” Not even die hard Rush fans; can defend lyrics like that with a straight face. The only thing that sucks more than the band Rush is, Rush Limbaugh and Limbaugh has an excuse as he is a drug addict. On a personal note Rush is the only concert I ever walked out of after hearing one of their songs. I was there to see the opening band.

The Eagles: In the film, “The Big Lebowski, ” Jeffrey “The Dude” Lebowski hated the Eagles. He was willing to be thrown out of a cab because he told the driver to turn off their music. I hate the Eagles so much that I would have personally jumped from the cab while it was moving. The Eagles were shallow, rich, cowboy wannabee, womanizing cokeheads. Even a rocker like, Joe Walsh couldn’t save them from, life in the boring lane. They are the kings of lowest-common-denominator rock, making inoffensive rock designed to appeal to the broadest vanilla record-buying, radio-listening public. This SoCal country-rock scene was invented by the late great, Graham Parsons. Parson called it, cosmic American music,” a fusion of country, rock and soul. The Eagles stole that sound but never could add any soul to their lifeless music.

I have always hated, Led Zeppelin. They’d have been a great band if their first choice of singer hadn’t turned them down. That is the greatest rock singer of all time. Terry Reid. Instead, their second choice, that banshee wailing, Robert Plant became the singer. He sounds like a terrified, screaming teenage school girl from one of the three dozen, “ Halloween” movies. Zep lyrics all sounded better when written the first time around by; Memphis Millie, Willie Dixon, Muddy Waters, Blind Willie Johnson, Howlin`Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson, Robert Johnson, Bukka White, Sleepy John Estees, Albert King, Davy Graham, Bert Jansch, Jake Holms and Anne Breden. Zep never met a  black guy’s lyrics they didn’t love and steal. Saying you’re paying homage to a bluesman by stealing his lyrics isn’t a tribute to an artist it is being a douche. Zep has enabled generations of middle class white kids to avoid learning the true history of the blues. Led Zeppelin is no more than a millionaire cover band. Besides, haven’t enough proms already been ruined with that, “Stairway to Heaven” theme?

I saw Journey at Youngstown’s, The Tomorrow Club years ago. It was when they had their first album out. They were very jazzy and quite good. They soon added Steve Perry and became a boring, bland homogenized chic band. No self-respecting man would be a Journey fan. Bands like Journey, Foreigner, Styx and the Eagles are not a band; they are just a hit factory. I don’t want to hear a tribute band singing, “I Can’t Stop Believing.” It would only further make me want to scream, “Come on Warren, I can’t stop believing we can do better than tribute bands.”

If you went to the concerts at the amphitheater you couldn’t have used enough drugs to reach any amount of groove quotient. In the old days at a concert folks took enough drugs they thought they saw God. At today’s tribute band concerts you just look at your watch and think god when is this going to end. If I sat through such concerts I could only get a smile on my face thinking about the Koran. You know that passage where 72 virgins are promised to martyrs. Truth is I’m not enough of a martyr to sit through such tribute crap. I don’t really care for that ecstasy drug kids now use as at my age cortisone is my ecstasy.

“Bad taste creates many more millionaires than good taste.” ~ Charles Bukowski

 

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2 Comments

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2 responses to “This Isn’t Woodstock, It Is Laughingstock

  1. Lucy

    You are still ripping on Warren and the amphitheater…move on.

  2. elecpencil

    I think Warren deserves better than pseudo entertainment. Sadly, some people will settle for so little.

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