Big Easy Bound

Off to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival... Probably won't be firing off too many blogations, but I will be filing "notebook" columns for the paper Sat, Sun and Mon. You can get all of those HERE. I'll be writing about music, mayhem, booze, the current mood of the metropolis, passing out in various locales and how many soft-shell crab po boys I can eat in an hour (I'm thinking four if I skip the fries and go easy on the Abita). I'm digging the new Springsteen album -- here's my review -- so I'll be weighing in on Bruce's Sunday show, the "official" live debut of The Seeger Sessions. I'm a Dylan freak, so I'll be Bobbing out on Friday. Plus I plan on checking out C.J. Chenier, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Mardi Gras Indians, Papa Grows Funk, Elvis Costello, and then some. Something tells me the coolest show to write about will be Juvenile's Saturday set. The New Orleans rapper isn't too happy with the powers-that-be; Katrina took his house and his hometown's spirit. Juvenile, whose new album Reality Check is both catchy and cutthroat, isn't the kind of guy to mince words, so his Jazz Fest gig should be hot. Stay tuned...

What's Your Band's Name?

IMAGINARY band name, that is. While showering my bathing suit area this morning, my half-asleep head kept echoing the same bizarre phrase: "Bad Luck Underpants" "Bad Luck Underpants" "Bad Luck Underpants." I have no idea what that means -- or why I'm not in an asylum -- but I thought: "Great band name." So that's today's call to arms:

If you started a band, what would the name be?

We're looking for fictional band names. You know you got 'em in your head. They usually pop up at the weirdest times: in the shower, drifting off to sleep, while committing a heinous crime.

Here's my abbreviated list, culled over years of madness (notice there are no "the" bands -- too easy):

Eyeball From Liverpool
Aldous Huxley's Head
Preliminary Fuzzballs
Dusty Seeds (the Preliminary Fuzzballs tribute band)
Santa Nirvana
Mephistopheles Is Not My Name
Rotisserie Placenta Wednesday (for a Brazilian death metal band)
Chucha (pronounced CHOO-CHA)
The Scorpion Song
Becks Is Fat
My Bathing Suit Area
Government Cheese (which I just Googled to make sure of my originality, but someone already beat me to it. Screw 'em, it stays on the list).

And hey, if you're in a cool band and it has a cool name, let's hear that, too. I just reviewed a local group called Cuban Sandwich Crisis. Good stuff.

Sirius or XM?

Is Eric the Midget Still Alive?

I was at a stoplight this morning, and the topless Jeep next to me was cranking Howard Stern. (Artie Lange was berating the new Springsteen project, calling it "a jug band.")

Couple that nice moment with a message from a bitter blogger who was incensed at my lack of satellite radio, and it got me thinking:

Sirius or XM?

I really would like Howard in my life again, but I also crave: New England Patriots broadcasts, Syracuse football and basketball (does either entity carry the NCAA?), a Bob Dylan channel, some Sunset Strip metal, underground hip-hop and soft hits from the '70s.

What's the best fit?

Sirius fans? XM fans?

Let's settle this with fists.

David Lee Roth: Wins Battle, Loses Job

This just in: David Lee Roth, still celebrating his victory in our Van Halen Vs. Van Hagar Blog Battle, has been booted off the radio. Originally considered to be Howard Stern's replacement in select radio markets, DLR was reportedly bought out by CBS Radio. Here's a link to the story.

Anybody out there ever check out Roth's radio show? I hear it was an unlistenable abomination. Would love to hear some reports from the listening masses.

Also, I'm hearing mixed report's about Stern's Sirius show. Anybody listening to Howard these days? When I lived in D.C., he was an important part of my morning ritual. Take my daughter to daycare, visit a fast-food establishment for something sausagey, then listen to Stern for a good hour or two. I miss that guy.

BLOG BATTLE: Van Halen or Van Hagar?

Dave vs. Sammy! Make Your Vote Count!

In a few weeks, the Stuck in the '80s podcast crew plans on hosting an epic Van Halen vs. Van Hagar battle. Like the rest of our broadcasts, the 'cast will be available on iTunes. But we think this is the one that will launch us into fortune and glory. Or, at the very least, make us extremely popular with suburban dirtballs nationwide.

A few years ago, Van Halen vs. Van Hagar wasn't even a fair fight. But David Lee Roth ain't exactly aging well, while the hard-working Sammy Hagar has turned himself into Jimmy Buffett with power chords. When I was 16 years old, 5150 was a curse word in my house. But after seeing the "Sammy & Dave" tour a few years ago, I started to loosen up. Hagar's set was fun and energetic; Diamond Dave's was downright cringe-inducing (especially when he tried to do his flying drum-riser split, but looked more like Wilford Brimley falling off a curb).

Listen: I'll always choose the original VH over the later generations. But I'm willing to be bet that there are more Van Hagar fans out there than VH loyalists think.

So let's do this: Van Halen vs. Van Hagar?

Just click on the comments link and start typing. The easiest option is to choose the "Other" button and type in whatever snarky blog name you want. I'm thinking Gary Sherone (sorry, make that C-H-E-R-O-N-E) will be a popular option.

"Aunt Bunny Is Comin' to Get Me!"

I was 13 years old the first time I heard 1983's Eddie Murphy: Comedian, which was reissued this week on Columbia/Legacy.

The concert was recorded in my old haunts at Constitution Hall in Washington. D.C. Not-so-coincidentally, that's also where Eddie disciple Chris Rock would later shoot some of his best stand-up specials.

I bought the tape (!) at a place called Strawberries in Chelmsford, Mass. I used the money I made mowing Old Man Monahan's lawn. (Old Man Monahan was a terrifying man who demanded a different mowing "pattern" each week. Only problem was, I could never remember which pattern I was on. So I winged it, which would inevitably lead to Monahan gimping after me in a rage and denting our riding mower with his cane.)

Anyway, my parents figured that the next best thing to saying no would be to listen to the album with me. Parental guidance and all that. So we bought subs at Brothers Pizza. We lugged the ginormous boombox into the kitchen. And on that Friday night, the Daly family listened to Eddie go off.

We all cringed back then (and I cringed today, listening to it in my car, rolling up my windows at stoplights) at the nasty homophobia at the beginning. I recall my mother getting all serious and saying, "Do you understand what he's saying?" What was I supposed to say: "Yes, mother, Eddie is saying if Mr. T were gay, Mr. T would be really angry in bed." My folks just kept trading these pained half-smirks. Didn't matter anyway. My entire school would be reciting the album at Monday recess.

For all the cringing, however, I also remember tears streaming down my parents' cheeks -- and mine, too -- at the "The Barbecue" routine which remains 12 minutes and 41 seconds of comedic perfection. Remember the first time you ever heard that? I can't remember my social security number, but 23 years later, I can still go line for line about Aunt Bunny and the Goony Goo-Goo mobile. You're wife's a Bigfoot, isn't she, Gus?

When Richard Pryor died, comics the world over gushed about how he was the best. But I didn't grow up listening to Pryor. My friends and I were all about Eddie. Driving around today, listening to Eddie Murphy: Comedian, there's no doubt in my mind about the greatest comedy album of all time. You bring your Pryors and Cosbys and Cheeches & Chongs.

In his prime -- before the kids movies, and the tranvestite pick-up, and the reclusivity -- Eddie Murphy was unbeatable.

Help Wanted: Goin' to New Orleans

Later this month, I'll be on assignment at the first weekend of the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival. I was in Crescent City about six years ago -- I took the Forever Fiancee for her 30th. It truly was a lost weekend, especially after I ate some suspect gumbo Saturday night. The fever dreams were fierce at six in the morning, when a gaggle of young women formed in the street and about-face chants of "Show You D----s!" were hurled at a nearby balcony full of frat boys. I'm thinking this upcoming trip will be a little different. I've been setting up interviews and feature stories, but I also want to leave some open time. I'm not sure if I'll take the tour of the devastation. That said, the French Quarter and the Jazzfest grounds won't tell the true tale of the city.

Anyway, if you've ever been to New Orleans, tell me your favorite spots. Tell me stories. Tell me dirty secrets. Tell me where to go.

Also, the Jazzfest is loaded with more than 150 bands, and there are conflicts all over the place. So who would you rather see:

Dave Matthews Band vs. Juvenile vs. Etta James
Bruce Springsteen vs. the Meters vs. Preservation Hall Jazz Band
Dr. John vs. Ani DiFranco vs. BeauSoleil vs. Irvin Mayfield
Bob Dylan vs. Cowboy Mouth vs. Charmain Neville

And finally, let's be honest: There have been a lot of stories written about New Orleans. What are you tired of? What story hasn't been written? What would you like to read about? How many bars would you like me to visit?

Catscratch Fever

Pussycats, Pussycats, I Love You...

I really like those Pussycat Dolls.

And not just in an obvious grunty, slobbery, pathetic-guy way (although there's definitely that).

But I also dig the sextet's pure cabaret-kitty burlesque routine, real Space Age-meets-vaudeville cool dripping in kitsch and go-girl 'tude. If you're too concerned with the fact that only one of them has vocal talent, well, you're totally missing the point.

Anyway, I caught them at the USF Sun Dome last night, opening up for the Black Eyed Peas. The Peas were fine, but in retrospect, I would have been cool leaving after the Dolls set. They were that good.

Anyway, here's a chunk of my review from today's paper, but with annotated comments. Think of it as a randy director's commentary.

Born in 1995 as a wink-wink burlesque act (the brainchild of choreographer Robin Antin, they were actually born in Christina Applegate's garage), the L.A.-based Pussycat Dolls promote titillation over talent. (Such celebs as Eva Longoria, Carmen Electra and Christina Aguilera have also " cameoed" with the Dolls.)

Only one of the women is an actual pro singer: raven-haired frontwoman Nicole Scherzinger (formerly of forgettable Destiny's Child ripoff Eden's Crush). But a serious lack of vocal skills hasn't stopped the group from selling several million copies of their debut album, 2005's PCD. (I gave it a B, but I should have slapped a "+" on there.)

With Nicole working the mike, the other Dolls -- Kimberly, Ashley, Melody, Jessica and Carmit (Carmit sounds like something you'd buy at Pep Boys, doesn't it?) -- excelled at writhing on catwalks and stripper poles, chairs and stairs. They were all not-so-dressed dressed in clothes that looked like something from the Beyond Thunderdome collection.

(I should have said something earnest about their athleticism and dance skills. That was the whole point of the Pussycat Dolls in the first place: Good hoofers mixing Bob Fosse moves with Sunset Stripper sin. Melody's signature move last night was standing on one stilletto heel, and slowly putting the other leg behind her head. I can't wait to bring her home to mother.)

Why, the entire cheeky affair was like a no-contact lapdance.

(OK, this was a cheap line. I should have added on to it, perhaps with a mention of the "history lesson" in the middle of the set, in which Nicole explained the troupe's genesis -- then did this drop-dead sexy routine to Henry Mancini's Pink Panther theme. I believe it's in Charlie's Angels 2 when Drew and the girls pay homage to the Dolls and do a begartered strut to the same brassy tune.)

And I'm not ashamed to say I loved every gosh-darn moment.

Especially because, as a nice bonus, the Pussycat's songs are sincerely catchy, especially Beep (produced by the Black Eyed Peas Will.i.am no less), Wait a Minute and, of course, Don't Cha. (All together now, ladies: "Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?")

Queen Killers

Here's a cringe-inducing scoop from USA Today regarding which Queen songs the American Idol dopes will be performing tonight. Brian May should be ashamed of himself.

(By the way, you'll be happy to know that Ace has "urbanized" We Will Rock You. Of course! That's what the song was missing! Urbanization!)

•Ace Young, We Will Rock You: "I urbanized the verses a little, just by riding on (the notes). I put a little R&B soul on it. When we were done, they said, 'That sounds like a record.' "
•Bucky Covington, Fat Bottomed Girls: "Yes, we all love the fat-bottomed girls."
•Chris Daughtry, Innuendo: "It's a relatively unknown song. It just had a mixture of a dark feel and a positive message. And I just found out they've never performed this live."
•Elliott Yamin, Somebody to Love: "I was drawn to the passionate emotion of the song. I heard a lot of soul in it."
•Katharine McPhee, Who Wants to Live Forever: "How could (this) not be fun? We're working with so many different legends."
•Kellie Pickler, Bohemian Rhapsody: "We only have 1 minute and 30 seconds, and the song is really long. Having to cut so many pieces is really hard to memorize, because I'm not singing the song as it's originally played."
•Paris Bennett, The Show Must Go On: "Being with the band was a big experience to me, never being with a rock band before. I was able to pick a song that fits me, that's still rocky."
•Taylor Hicks, Crazy Little Thing Called Love: "You listen to a Queen song, it's really melodic and very powerful, and the dynamics (are) really cool."

Dixie Chicks: Love? Hate? Who Cares?

On May 23, the Dixie Chicks will release their fourth studio album: Taking the Long Way, produced by Rick Rubin (Red Hot Chili Peppers, AC/DC, Neil Diamond). First single Not Ready to Make Nice refers to the brouhaha surrounding Natalie Maines' Bush-baiting comments at a March 2003 London show. To repeat for the millionth time: “Just so you know, we're ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas.” I still look at that quote and marvel at the controversy it stirred up. Just her opinion, folks, and a relatively benign one at that. Good lord, we've turned into a bunch of thin-skinned wussies. Anyway, the new song's lyrics once again mess with all those Nashville yahoos who questioned the Chicks' patriotism. I’m not ready to make nice I’m not ready to back down I’m still mad as hell and I don’t have time to go round and round and round It’s too late to make it right I probably wouldn’t if I could 'Cause I’m mad as hell Can’t bring myself to do what it is you think I should. Somewhere, Toby Keith is writing a new rebuttal song. Part of me wishes the Chicks would move on, make another album as fun and genre-tweaking as 1999's Fly. On the other hand, it gives me a perverse thrill to see the Chicks face-off with conservative huckleberries nationwide. Keep stirring it up, girls, 'cause Cletus is about to stick his foot in his mouth again. But maybe you disagree with me.

So I ask you again: Do you dig the Chicks? Despise the chicks? Or couldn't care less about this entire topic?

IDOL CHATTER: Just When I Thought I Was Out...

...they pull me back in.

With -- lo and behold -- Prince.

Okay, I might have to watch this one. If the rumor is actually true, of course.

From the New York Post:

Pop superstar Prince will reportedly appear on the hit Fox show American Idol to both coach contestants and perform on the hit TV series, in a bid to maintain high album sales.

According to Page Six, executives from Prince's record company convinced him to appear on the show to keep the album at the top of the charts, after noting a huge spike in album sales when Barry Manilow appeared on the program a few weeks ago.

According to one source, "It wasn't easy though because Prince apparently hates the show and has never even watched it."

And I thought next week's Queen was going to be a debacle.

Prince can barely speak, let alone guide Bucky Covington through Raspberry Beret. Can you imagine that meeting of the minds?

So who performs what?

After hugging Prince for a uncomfortable amount of time, Pickler will certainly bust out Little Red Corvette.

Ace, wearing his his 37th different "ace" belt buckle, thus setting a new world record, will ruin Purple Rain forever.

Paris Bennett? Maybe 1999, thus celebrating the year she was born.

What else ya got?

IDOL CHATTER: That's It. Have Fun. I'm Done.

At first I was surly.

Doesn't make sense. America is stupid. The show is rigged. Seacrest is out to get me. Bucky made a deal with Beelzebub. Your basic denial, anger, etc.

But then I realized that, with the incandescent Mandisa out of my life, the burden is off my shoulders. The Forever Fiancee and I never watched the show before. A few minutes here and there, but that was it. So we feel relieved to NEVER HAVE TO WATCH THIS PIECE OF !*&$! SHOW AGAIN.

Bye. Have fun. Let us know how it turns out. Bucky + Satan 4EVA.

So...tell me about this Lost show. Any zaftig black women I can root for?

IDOL CHATTER: He Gambled and Lost

Too bad Kenny Rogers couldn't appear on American Idol last night.

But I thought Bea Arthur fit in just fine.

Jeez, Kenny, what happened? I guarantee there are 50 wax figures in Branson, Mo., that look more like Kenny Rogers than Kenny Rogers does these days. Usually, bad plastic surgery is funny. (See: Meg Ryan, Barry Manilow). But the Gambler looked terrifying, as if he were recreated in a pod by aliens who only have a vague notion of what Kenny Rogers is supposed to look like.

Listen, I don't like Kellie Pickler. But the bravery she showed in hugging Kenny -- when at any time his tightened skin could pop -- was impressive.

******

Idol was a disaster last night. Not a fun disaster, just a lousy disaster. The song selection was crappy. The judges were annoying. Taylor Hicks' John Denver cover was ear-bleedingly bad. And worst of all, Pickler and Bucky are gonna cruise through again.

(Though, to be honest, Bucky obviously knows he sucks. Which makes me like him a bit. He's like the Chaos Theory.)

Vote-off show tonight. Who's going? Ace, McPhee, or Elliott. That's what I say. If it's Mandisa, I'm leaving for good.

I'm Tired: Best Sleep Songs?

I'm quickly becoming one of those people who need to listen to their iPod in order to fall asleep.

I'm also becoming one of those poor saps who wakes up at 4 a.m. and might as well start making waffles. That's old-man territory right there.

So as my tired eyes itch, my head feels even more like a bowling ball, and I daydream of 8 hours in the sack, here's today's question/cry for help:

What's your best musical sleep remedy?

What songs chill you out?

Make you pleasantly drowzy?

Don't involve Zamfir and a bottle of Wild Turkey?

I prefer instrumentals when I doze, only because I tend to interpret lyrics in my sleep. If I listen to a shuffle, I usually wake up exhausted and convinced that Dolly Parton is trying to kill me.

Awhile ago, I put together "The Chill-Out," which works reasonably well for the first 400 listens, but is starting to lose power. You iPod insomniacs might dig it. Be forewarned, though: "The Chill-Out" contains music from movies involving young men being seduced by hookers/porn stars/Kate Hudson. I have no idea what this means, but it's probably not healthy.

1) The End -- Paul Haslinger (The Girl Next Door)
2) Sleep Walk -- Santo & Johnny
3) The Dream Is Always the Same -- Tangerine Dream (Risky Business)
4) Singalong Junk -- Paul McCartney
5) We Meet Again -- Nancy Wilson (Jerry Maguire)
6) Appalachian Spring: Doppio movimento -- Bernstein/Copland
7) Love on a Real Train -- Tangerine Dream (Risky Business)
8) Lucky Trumble -- Nancy Wilson (Almost Famous)
9) Rodeo: II Corral Nocturne -- Bernstein/Copland
10) Ragtime -- Randy Newman
11) Working on It -- Mark Knopfler (Wag the Dog)
12) Rodeo: III Saturday Night -- Bernstein/Copland
13) Main Title Theme -- Bob Dylan (Pat Garrett & Billy the Kid)
14) Desafinado -- Stan Getz
15) The Pump -- Jeff Beck (Risky Business)
16) In the Heartland -- Mark Knopfler (Wag the Dog)

Pickler's Prom Dress...

(American Idol phony Kellie "Huckleberry Blonde" Pickler is totally messing with the blog today, crashing the sucker left and right with her Matrix-like cyberskills. But I will triumph...)

Innocence lost, eh?

Vote for the Worst.com, a Web site devoted to celebrating/mocking the No. 1 show in America, has published a detailed debunking of Pickler's hayseed legend, including her supposed calamari-less past, her "never sang before y'all" claims and her aw-shucks sexual innocence, which was forever tarnished back in high school by this subtle getup from the Jenna Jameson collection.

Is that a macrame thong?