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« June 2006 | Main | August 2006 »
I hope the interview happens -- Mimi seems like a nut. Plus she totally makes me feel funny inside. Anyway, a few weeks ago, I asked my loyal bloggers for So who has A QUESTION FOR MARIAH CAREY? Actually, make that A NON-PERVY QUESTION FOR MARIAH CAREY? 
Mariah Carey and I are "scheduled" to spend some quality phone time together on Monday. She's coming to the St. Pete Times Forum on Aug. 7.
And no, it's not called Eruption. CHATSWORTH, Calif. -- In a major crossover move, rock superstar Eddie Van Halen has joined forces with adult director Michael Ninn to write and perform two songs for the upcoming Ninn Worx feature, Sacred Sin Although several big-name rappers have contributed material to XXX movies, Van Halen is probably the first major rock star to lend his name to an adult project. Van Halen told AVN.com he’s not bothered by possible criticism. “I’m working with a friend — very simple. I like his work,” he said. “Michael Ninn is like a Spielberg to me: the imagery, the way he makes things look, just… sensual." I hate to say it, but whoever has Eddie Van Halen in the Dead Pool, you're about to win big money.
This depresses me:
Eddie Van Halen has recorded the soundtrack for an ADULT FILM.
Herewith, a news story from that bastion of whipcrack journalism, Adult Video News:
SPIELBERG?!! Yeah, maybe Larry Spielberg, owner of Adult World on Hollywood and Vine.
If you don't believe me, check out these pictures from a recent Eddie solo show at, of all places, the House of Petals. That snapshot to the right is of Eddie's current footwear, which he presumably stole from a hobo.
Indeed, the metal icons have FINALLY made their studio catalogue (plus live tracks from a 1989 Seattle show) available for single-song purchase on Apple's digital download store. 
WHAT'S THE FIRST METALLICA SONG YOU'LL BUY ON ITUNES?
What's that Metallica song(s) that goes "Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!"?
That's the first one I'm buying.
That leaves the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Radiohead and Garth Brooks as the biggest remaining holdouts. But who needs those guys anyway?
Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!
Yep, pop pugilist Pink is definitely this generation's Billy Idol.... ....For opening number 'Cuz I Can, from her new album I'm Not Dead, she took to the stage in long leather boots, a frilly cocktail dress and a long riding crop, which she licked in between delivering defiant lyrics in her growly, soulful wail. Followup song Trouble, a metallic burner from 2003's Try This, featured the singer flashing her blue panties as she courted only the men who were tough enough to woo her.... ....But woe be the hater who thinks Pink is only in it for the flirting. "I wanna do a song for you tonight 'cause I think it's AWESOME," she chirped in a mock airhead coo, flipping her hair and batting her lashes. "I want you guys to pay attention, 'cause I'm easily distracted." And with that she launched into the vitriolic fun of new song Stupid Girls, which deliciously rips into the Jessica Simpsons of pop culture and features a pleading chorus of "Where, oh where, have the smart people gone?".... In a rousing nod to frequent collaborator Linda Perry, Pink led the crowd in an all-together-now version of What's Up, a hit for Perry's former band 4 Non Blondes. Most pop stars would be irked that the biggest crowd reaction was for someone else's song. But not Pink: She smiled and laughed and, with a rebel yell, cried for more, more, more.
Despite the woman in front of me inadvertently whacking my bathing-suit area with her water bottle -- and despite a thick heat that punished the sold-out crowd -- I had a pretty swell time at Pink's show in St. Pete last night.
The 26-year-old star born Alecia Moore is a lot more graceful in person. Don't get me wrong: She's still wicked when dutifully eviscerating the Paris Hiltons of the world, and that riding crop she brandished sure wasn't for taming horses. But as opposed to the constant tough tom-girl pose she struts in videos, as a live performer, Pink is likably polished with a soulful voice that needs little pitch tuning.
Anyway, here are some choice bits from my live review that ran in today's St. Petersburg Times:
ST. PETERSBURG -- Snarly top lip, cool bleach-blond 'do, fist-pumping rebellion packaged in radio-ready hits:
His new solo album, the 12-track You're Only Lonely, is a mostly covers collection whose sole (soul?) function is to show off Malo's all-world pipes. The album art and the quiet musical vibe hark back to '60s cocktail cool and conversation pits. This is music for lovers only (or at least friends with benefits). Sure, Rod Stewart has ruined covers albums for everyone, but Malo's disc is unmistakably original. He puts such heartbreaking spin on J.D. Souther's title track ("When the world is ready to fall on your little shoulders") and Etta James' version of At Last, it's as if you're hearing them for the first time. On Willie Nelson's Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground, Malo invites some powerhouse gospel mavens to join him, but that's mainly to make his vocal derring-do even more impressive. Two versions of Randy Newman's heart-wrenching Feels Like Home appear on You're Only Lonely: One Malo performs alone, the other a duet with country darling Martina McBride. Both renditions are sublime, but I flinch at the idea of boozy karaoke couples butchering the duet for years to come. After all, some songs are for listening purposes only
Born with one of the smoothest, most seductive voices in popular music, the Mavericks' Raul Malo is a classic "phonebook singer," a husky, hirsute 40-year-old who could croon the Yellow Pages and have you naked by the time he gets to Air Conditioning Contractors.
Anyway, I tend to process Phil Collins, sans Genesis, the same way I do Michael Jackson. In my mind, present-day Phil (aka "Dance Into the Light" Phil) has no relation to the likable "solo" Phil of the early- to mid-'80s (that is, before Buster, before Groovy Kind of Love). His voice was sterile but strangely cool, and his best songs had a vaguely creepy gravitas to them (hence their placement in Miami Vice, Risky Business, etc.). 
Kid Lulu has been mainlining Disney's Brother Bear these days, yet another Mouse House flick soundtracked by Phil Collins. The songs are pretty cheezeball, but my daughter digs 'em. Whatever works, you know?
There are some great Phil Collins solo songs out there, you just have to be careful where you step. So herewith:
8 Phil Collins Songs to Proudly Sing With the Windows Down (+ 2 for the privacy of your own home)
1) I Don't Care Anymore -- from Hello, I Must Be Going
2) I Missed Again -- from Face Value
3) In the Air Tonight -- from Face Value
4) Against All Odds -- from the Against All Odds soundtrack
5) Don't Lose My Number -- from No Jacket Required
6) Easy Lover (duet with Phillip Bailey )-- from Hits
7) Long Long Way to Go -- from No Jacket Required
8) Take Me Home -- from No Jacket Required
BONUS TRACK: Separate Lives -- from the White Nights soundtrack
BONUS TRACK: You'll Be in My Heart -- from the Tarzan soundtrack
Because my diet consists mainly of Funyuns and Budweiser, Times food editor Janet Keeler figured I'd be the perfect guest host for her Stir Crazy blog while she's on vacation. For my first foray into culinary expertise -- devoted to Elvis Presley's favorite life-snuffing snacks -- click here.
I get the feeling her audience is slightly different than mine, so I hope the King's Ham Bone Dumplings don't do any lasting damage.
Oh well, as we wait for the paramedics, enjoy this GRAVY-SMOTHERED MIX of food-related songs:
SIDE 1: The Feast
1) TV Dinners -- ZZ Top
2) Green Peppers -- Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass
3) Cheeseburger in Paradise -- Jimmy Buffett
4) Brown Sugar -- the Rolling Stones
5) Wild Mountain Honey -- Steve Miller Band
6) Rock Lobster -- B-52s
7) Hot Dog and a Shake -- David Lee Roth
SIDE 2: The Dessert
1) Milkshake -- Kelis
2) Cherry Pie -- Warrant
3) Apple Scruffs -- George Harrison
4) The Candy Man -- Sammy Davis Jr.
5) Candy Everybody Wants -- 10,000 Maniacs
6) Lemon -- U2
7) Ice Cream Man -- Van Halen
BONUS TRACK: Unskinny Bop -- Poison
At the long, laborious end of Lady in the Water, Just call the critic-munching a pre-emptive strike. It's almost as if Shyamalan, the promising young filmmaker responsible for such tension-building tutorials as The Sixth Sense and Signs, knows that reviewers are going to savage his latest thriller, and well they should. Not only has the 35-year-old director misplaced his gift for deft camera trickery -- gone are those slow pans that teased the mind's eye -- but he has lost his feel for narrative momentum as well. But by far his greatest sin is suddenly, and inexplicably, becoming so literal-minded. Shyamalan has been called the next Spielberg primarily for his ability to mask the surreal in the real, the mundane in the magical. The Sixth Sense wasn't really a ghost story -- it was a thoughtful coming-of-age tale. Signs wasn't really a sci-fi flick -- it was a studied examination about losing faith. But as far as I can tell, Lady in the Water is REALLY about a mythical sea "narf" named Story (Bryce Dallas Howard, from Shyamalan's other stinkeroo, The Village) who floats up in the pool at a modern-day housing complex called the Cove, a blue-collar edifice containing all manner of gloomy tenants. (
What's your favorite M. Night Shyamalan movie?
The Sixth Sense? Unbreakable? Signs?
I'm willing to bet it WON'T be Lady in the Water.
Because beloved Times film critic Steve Persall was off gallavanting with Oliver Stone in Miami, he asked me to review Shyamalan's latest. (Don't worry: I used to do this for a living, too.) Here's a sinister snippet from my slam, followed by a link for more.
****
On Tuesday July 25, Tom Petty will release one of the best albums of his career.
Really.
I've had a review copy of Highway Companion for a couple weeks now. It's simply a great rock 'n' roll album with wicked hooks, smart sing-along lyrics and Petty, sans Heartbreakers, dealing with all the nonsense of getting old. (It totally erases the stink of 2002's The Last DJ.)
If you're looking for a comparison, the simplest one is Full Moon Fever. Really.
Anyway, my full-length review will run next Tuesday -- I'll be writing it up today. In preparation, I've been listening to a lot of TP's back catalogue, and dusting off some killer forgotten tracks.
Herewith, a quick list of TOM PETTY'S OVERLOOKED GEMS:
Spike -- from Southern Accents (1985)
About to Give Out -- from Echo (1999)
Kings Highway -- from Into the Great Wide Open (1991)
The Wild One, Forever -- from Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (1976)
Dogs on the Run -- from Southern Accents (1985)
Cabin Down Below -- from Wildflowers (1994)
Think About Me -- from Let Me Up (I've Had Enough) (1987)
Insider -- from Hard Promises (1981)
Change of Heart -- from Long After Dark (1982)
Make It Better (Forget About Me) -- from Southern Accents (1985)
For looks, we’ll start with Bowie. Stage presence, you gotta go with Jagger. Guitar pyrotechnics: Eddie VH. Go-go-go stamina that'll keep 'em churning in the cheap seats? That's the Boss, baby. And for voice? Well, that’s easy: At 62, his hair may be thinning and his skin may be stretched, but his vital stats remain rock steady. I was lucky enough to see Fogerty at D.C.'s intimate I was also astounded at how Fogerty can still sound so remarkably relevant, especially when he performed Fortunate Son and Who’ll Stop the Rain, antiwar roundhouses as vital and cutting today as they were during Vietnam. The guy can still pick like a demon, too, but it's that ragged-glory voice that's brings you to your knees. Slow songs, fast tracks, monumental jams: Fogerty’s wail forever sounds on the verge of breaking down, of blowing out. But it doesn’t. It just keeps raging forth.
Fire up the Frankenstein machine, 'cause we're building the perfect rock star:
So last night, after returning from a neighborhood block party in which I drank mojitos and took my shirt off way too early and often, I concocted a musical mix about solitude. Sean's IS THERE ANYBODY OUT THERE? Mix 1) Lonely Ol' Night -- John Mellencamp
That's me, in between tequila shots and yard work and Cinemax, saddened by the absence of my family. The Forever Fiancee and Kid Lulu are in Jersey visiting the grandparents. Because of a heavy workload/Cinemax, I opted to stay home. It was fun for a while. But now it's DAY 5, and I'm really missing the gals.
This goes out to all my fellow Lonely Hearts:
2) Lonely Boy -- Andrew Gold
3) Ain't No Sunshine -- Bill Withers
4) Are You Lonesome Tonight? -- Elvis Presley
5) Owner of a Lonely Heart -- Yes
6) Alone -- Heart
7) Solitary Man -- Neil Diamond
8) Only the Lonely -- Roy Orbison
9) Lonesome Blues -- Shooter Jennings
10) You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go -- Bob Dylan
BONUS TRACK: Baby Come Back -- Player
That's not exactly a stop-the-presses revelation, I know. But you'd think that with all the money and "advisers" supporting her post-Nick career, her peeps would have come up with something better than A Public Affair, a blatant knockoff of Madonna's Holiday (albeit without Madge's deep emotional resonance). The tinkly synth, the faux independent-women lyrics, the perilously breathy vocal: A Public Affair reminds me of the generic songs you'd hear at the end of low-budget '80s teen movies (Morgan Stewart's Coming Home, perhaps). By the way, it took eight (8) songwriters to whip up A Public Affair. I find that very, very funny.
Wow, the new Jessica Simpson song really blows.
Three Possible Explanations Why I Like Huey Lewis and the News (Besides the Obvious One in Which You Call Me a Giant Loser)
1. Huey Lewis, performing at Tampa's Ford Amphitheatre this evening, was king when I was 15 years old. MTV was a tsunamic cultural phenomenon, and Huey's ubiquitous videos were cheezy fun (the beachiness of If This Is It in particular). Plus Back to the Future, for which Lewis performed two songs, was tops at the box office, and being Marty McFly seemed like a solid lifestyle choice for me.
2. Huey Lewis would make a good drinking buddy. He's your friend, your pal, your bowling partner who always buys the first round. He'll flirt with your wife, but he'll never steal her away. He's takin' what they're givin', 'cause he's workin' for a livin'. Plus Huey's "reputation" with the ladies was legendary. Perhaps it was the exaggerated harmonica playing.
3. Nothing bad can ever happen to you while a Huey Lewis song is playing. Seriously. Cue up Do You Believe in Love, and your plane won't crash, your car won't spin out of control and your dog won't croak. Why? Because Huey is the soundtrack for a romantic comedy, not a drama.
Huey is airy and light.
Huey is innocence.
Huey, my friends, is good.
Here's the cover art for Bob Dylan's new album, Modern Times, due out Aug. 29.
As noted Dylanologist -- and chair of the University of Florida's Department of Journalism -- William McKeen pointed out in an email, this is one of the rare occasions when Zimmy does not appear on the cover of one of his albums.
I hope Bob's not having esteem issues. Despite his Vincent Price-meets-High Noon look, I happen to think he's still one handsome SOB.
Anyway, if you're also a Dylan fan, can you name the other Bobless album covers? To get you started, think "Jesus"...
We dump on Thom Yorke a lot around here. But Radiohead's gnomish nutter truly threw me for a loop on The Eraser, his first solo album, released today.
Yes, there are bleeps and bloops galore, but for the first time in a long time, there's also genuine gutcheck emotion and spare moving songs. (The track Analyse is just as good as anything on The Bends or OK Computer. Really.) The album is about crumbling relationships, with yourself and loved ones, and it makes you wonder just what's going on in Yorke's own life (not that he's telling).
Anyway, I review The Eraser in today's St. Petersburg Times. Here's an excerpt, followed by your lucky chance to read more:
Alienation and alien nations, car crashes and soul crises: This is just some of the unpleasantness forever rattling around in the throbbing brain of Thom Yorke, tortured frontman for bestselling art-rockers Radiohead -- and, as of today, a solo star as well.
In what is being called a music biz surprise, Yorke has just released The Eraser, his first solo album, and an even darker journey into his gray matter than usual. There has been almost no publicity, no buzz, no ballyhoo for The Eraser -- it just sort of appeared out of nowhere -- but considering the source, the surprise shouldn't really surprise anyone.
Thirteen years after the elfin eccentric first moaned Radiohead's outcast anthem Creep -- "I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo. . . . I don't belong here" -- the 37-year-old Brit remains King of the Misfits, a press-shy homunculus capable of sneaky melodies and curious choruses, all amid the chilly sounds of his own psychic damage.
For more poetic musings on Yorke, click this sucker.
I need a doctor. Or a nurse. Or Janine Lindemulder.
Sore throat, nasal drip, wild fever dreams: I totally blame my daughter, who just went back to daycare after a year off. It took her a month to bring home everything but dengue fever.
In the throws of illness last night, my crazed mind worked independently and put together this illness-themed music mix. It's totally sick...
Sean's Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching Head Fever Mix
1) Let Me Clear My Throat -- DJ Kool
2) You Be Illin' -- Run DMC
3) Boogie Wonderland -- Earth Wind & Fire
4) Fever -- Peggy Lee
5) I Want a New Drug -- Huey Lewis and the News
6) The Perfect Drug -- Nine Inch Nails
7) Hurt -- Nine Inch Nails
8) Puke -- Eminem
9) Doctor Doctor -- Thompson Twins
10) Can't Get It Out of My Head -- ELO
Bonus Track: Sick of Myself -- Matthew Sweet
Long night in the Daly manse. Kid Lulu had double ear infections + conjunctivitis + snotty nose + sore throat. That makes for one surly baby. She wouldn't sleep anywhere but the family room couch. That meant Dad slept on the family room floor. Around 3 a.m., the kid fell off the couch and on top of me, a warm, wonderful family moment.
Enjoy these Evil Fake Band Names:
Sacrithrice
Purgatori Spelling
Taint Misbehavin'
Metalsome
Accordion Balls
Chub Rub
Cut Me Mick
Fistful of Maggots
Zombie Movie With Shotgun
Blood Chalice (formerly Blood Cup)
He kinda sounds like Bob Dylan doing Motley Crue covers -- although that would be somewhat charming.
This is just pathetic.
Motley Crue frontman Vince Neil played a solo show at the St. Pete Times Forum last Friday -- and apparently all hell broke loose.
I was in Fort Lauderdale on assignment, but when I returned my email in-box was stuffed fat with furious fans who say Neil was a slurring, stumbling mess who actually fell off the stage.
Again, I wasn't there, but here are some excerpts from the angry mob:
"From his third step on stage you...knew something was not right. Ok, in the last few months he’d put back on the 30+ pounds he had struggled so hard to loose. No biggie. But when he opened his mouth it became apparent he was absolutely WASTED!!!!! What an absolute disappointment. He fell, he rambled incoherently, he spewed beer, he fell some more."
"Vince Neil should personally refund everyone with proof that they paid for that farce."
"Did you happen to catch the Ratt/Vince Neil concert Friday night? Ratt did a great job and Vince's band was awesome, but Vince Neil was awful........nearly incoherent, literally falling down drunk. He was booed off the stage!"
"He could barely stand up and may have managed to get about half the words in for a lousy 2 songs before falling off the stage then falling again behind the drummer. His band's lead guitarist had to make a feeble attempt to save the day by taking over on vocals for 2 badly performed zeppelin tunes only to have RATT's singer come on the stage to perform Live Wire. This showed true class on Ratt's part by trying to salvage this stinking heap of a show but alas Neil had to come onto the stage again to basically attempt to steal back the mic only to belt jibberish at us as Ratt's singer finally exited the stage and left the mess to Vince."
While listening (and wincing and sighing and crying) to Johnny Cash's new American V: A Hundred Highways -- recorded shortly before his death in September 2003 -- I imagined a young music fan buying the album and hearing the legend for the very first time.
Most of us remember Cash as a sequoia of a man, a spiritual gunfighter shooting down his demons in front of God and everyone. But on American V -- released, appropriately enough, on July 4, a time for gathering 'round monuments -- the Man in Black groans, and sighs, and aches, his baritone reduced to the rumbling echo of distant thunder.
Not only was Cash nearly blind and using a wheelchair during the recording, but the album was also influenced by the death five months earlier of his wife, June Carter Cash. This was supposed to be therapy, a way to ease the pain. He needed this.
But do we? Well, that depends.
I'm totally digging Christina Aguilera's new tune, Ain't No Other Man.
Sure, I have a thing for dirrty blonde girls. But the song has multiple hooks, a showoff vocal, a hip-thrusty beat, brassy blasts of synthetic horn and a sexy nod to her new husband, who, let's be honest, looks like a total dork. (I especially have a thing for dirrty blonde girls who have a thing for total dorks.)
I'm willing to bet Ain't No Other Man is the biggest song of the summer. It's also gonna be a staple at weddings -- drunk bride dedicates song to drunk groom; drunk groom proceeds to do stupid dance; drunk guests rejoice -- for years and years to come.
You got soul
You got class
You got style
You're badass
 Sean Daly is the pop music critic for the St. Petersburg Times. His CD collection -- from Journey to Dylan, Prince to U2, Public Enemy to Stan Getz -- is much bigger and better than yours. |
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