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You know how they (by which I mean “my fellow feminazis”) say that the personal is political? Well, we (by which I mean “the writers of Superstarcastic“) believe that the musical is personal. Even though there are objective things we know we like in the music we listen to, we also know that it can be hard to pin down why what we like musically makes us so darn happy. Or fired-up. Or sad.
We are putting our list of end-of-the-year favorites out into the ether with the caveat that it’s subjective. Don’t get me wrong–each of us is, in his or her own right, a model of musical taste. However, rather than trying to come up with some arbitrary number (you know, the kind that’s divisible by five) of albums we can all agree on (it would be impossible), each of us came up with a short list of records that we really loved–some of which we share, most of which we don’t. More importantly: between us, we came up with 88 darlings–a kinder, gentler, rounder number than, say, 25, 50, or 100, and a palindrome to boot!
If you’re curious as to what we chose (and you should be!) our individual lists and comments are behind the jump, and, naturally, we want to hear yours. So, on with the show!
Read more »
My vote goes to Trace Adkins’ epic “Hony Tonk Badonkadonk.” Anyone care to dispute me?
RIP James Brown… or not. Sure, every journalist is going to blow smoke up your deceased ass, but not this cat. Maybe because I’m not a journalist or some know-nothing-hipster trying to prove he’s got some roots. No way, you and me, we have a score to settle.
See, despite the fact that JB was a pistol toting, tax evading, convicted wife beating dust-head, I still gave the man some cred and as a result, some of my hard earned cabbage. I mean, fuck, without James Brown, where would music be today? And man, sometimes, there are those people who you feel privileged that they let you share the air that they breathe. You were that guy, Jimmy. A living legend. So, when the opportunity presented itself to see you perform, I didn’t hesitate. I was happy to pay $45 for a nosebleed seat.
Then the day of the show I made the regrettable decision to buy a James Brown shirt before he took stage. I was not only going to have proof that “I was there”, but that I was also a sex machine (according to the shirt). The shirt and my skin have never met.
Cabaret Diosa opened the show and they were great. They left stage, there was a break, and then the orchestra came out. Now, I’d seen Ray Charles a few years before and his orchestra did a 5 to 10 minute intro and it was amazing. There’s nothing like a full orchestra intro to imply “This is just the tip of the iceberg. You’re going to blown away in a few short moments.” James Brown’s orchestra provided the same sort of anticipation. Like they were shaking a soda and you just knew that when Brown took the stage it would be like pulling the tab on that soda, with excitement just exploding everywhere. Then the intro started running a little long - but fuck it, the end result was James Brown walking onto stage and spinning like a top, so we waited… and waited… and waited… soon it felt like ol’ JB may be standing us up. But we waited… and waited… and waited. My arm was getting sore from my checking my watch so often.
Finally, James Brown took the stage and rather than feeling like “Fuck, yeah!” I was feeling more like shouting “Finally!” What transpired from that point on was easily the worst show I’ve ever seen and I’ve seen a lot of shitty shows in my life. He sang a few covers and then had some guest from some part of his life come out and sing a few songs, then he had his wife come out and sing a couple of songs, then when “The Godfather” returned to the stage, he covered Otis Redding. I checked with the other people in my party to see if I was completely off base, but we all agreed, this was blowing like an Angel Dust sniffing back up singer. The only person who appeared to be enjoying herself was the drunk as fuck fat ass in front of us who was speaking (not yelling) “I luff you, Jaymes Brownnn.” There were a lot of other people around us who’d given up on the idea of dancing and were now sitting in their seats.
The show greatly improved when a white guy jumped on stage and started dancing like James Brown, next to James Brown. JB waved the security off and let the kid go for a few steps. It was obvious that after a minute Brown was trying to coax this guy off of the stage, but the audience was finally cheering and enjoying themselves. He was upstaging the man at his own game. A look that was trying to be disguised as curiosity and maybe a little bit of impress, was clearly, even from the nosebleeds where I was sitting, a look of contempt. Shortly after JB sang another cover or brought his wife out to sing again, we left. We’d heard 2 James Brown songs sung by James Brown at a James Brown concert in a 1/2 hour of him being on stage. This, from the self proclaimed “hardest working man in show business.” A few nights later in LA he was booed off stage before he even got to his first song.
So, where do we put the cut-off for James Brown? At what point do we pretend “Oh, that just didn’t happen?” Do we look at a laundry list of his misdeeds and compare them on a timeline against his recordings and try to figure out where to decide that the James Brown we love and respect actually died and the PCP addict who puts on shit performances was born? Do we decide that we wouldn’t mind our mother marrying him even though he was a philanderer who liked his women bruised, because, well, it’s James Brown?! and 40 years ago he changed the face of music? So did Phil Spector, but are we going to let him off so easy? Hell, Hockey games wouldn’t be the same without Gary Glitter, but should we praise him upon his death and forgive his child molesting because he brought something to the party in the past?
The fact is, outside of those who knew and loved him, to the rest of the world, he just wasn’t a very good person. Would you want the guy next door to you to be a drug-addicted, wife beater who really digs his guns? That James Brown that everyone is remembering with such affection, he dropped dead a few decades ago and the only resemblance to him and they guy who died on Christmas was that they could move their feet with the same style. The hardest working man in show business, Mr. Please please himself, got lazy and bitter and let his demons get the better of him.
Now that he’s gone, is it appropriate to not hold his legacy accountable for the man he was? I guess I was even willing to let his indiscretions go because he was James Brown, had he not served up such a half assed display of showmanship. That was the day I realized that the person I looked forward to seeing, who changed the face of music and truly contributed something to the world, had died long before. This guy was just a bat-shit crazy old man with a drug and anger problem.
Merry Christmas from everyone at Superstarcastic to every one out there! I hope this year finds everyone as well as a indie music geek can really be (Birds are dying birds are dying!). As a little early Christmas gift, check out the Tiny Tim mp3 I’ve uploaded.
Seeing as Tiny Tim recordings are nearly impossible to find (I know because I looked) I think we’re safe with this one.
Start holding your breath, readers, because in a few days we at Superstarcastic will (like all the other jerks out there) be posting an article about our favorite albums of 2006.
In the meantime, I’d like to take issue with Pitchfork’s top single of 2006. OF COURSE Justin Timberlake should receive the honor–it’s just that “My Love” is not his finest work. But “Dick in a Box”? That’s where it’s at. At the close of a year in which it seemed like every single was nu-gaze, cutesy pop, or sung by a chick wearing a deceased weasel on her head, “Dick in a Box” sparkled with originality by couching timely and helpful holiday gift-giving tips in the form of a satirical homage to ’90s boy bands. What more could you want from a song (or, furthermore, for Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa)?
So yeah–many of our writers believe that the single is dead, but I don’t. This year, I choose Justin Timberlake’s “Dick in a Box.”
Huh. I guess now i know how out of touch i really am–my #2 selection apparently produced nary a peep from anyone except for a “Brainiac? Never heard of ‘em.” I guess this means i’ll have to utilize the new mp3 player feature here on the site to school some fools in a future post (maybe one i actually do when i’m not at work).
ANYWAY, we have arrived. It’s been a hell of a ride, kids, and now, i give you DJ’s #1 Most Favoritest Awesomest Badassest Record of ALL TIME: the incomparable Angel Dust by Faith No More.
Here’s a band that seriously hasn’t gotten their due i
n the United States, despite a hit single (which, i swear, i barely even connect with this band anymore. Seriously, “Epic” is so far removed from what this band is about that it makes the wave of rap-metal bands who cite FNM as an influence all the more embarrassing) and Mike Patton’s annoyingly devoted “everything he touches is gold” cult following (of which i am a devout member. I am what i hate–and what Patton himself isn’t so keen on either). It stuns me how many people still see FNM as the “flopping fish” one hit wonder, and have more or less ignored one of the most interesting, strange, and original bands of the last 25 years. Read more »
Santa was good to Joiezabel this year. He got her a brand new hat.
UPDATE: It keeps her toasty for her fireside chats.
oh! hello. i didn’t see you there. let me just take these expensive headphones off and put this on pause, here, and–oh, what’s that? what am i listening to? why, this is the latest full-length from australian band youth group, hot off the presses. it’s really good. what? hell, i don’t know if they actually use presses, i just…it’s an expression, ok? leave me alone.
anyway, dear readers, if you’ve noticed that we’re suddenly getting a lot more comments, there is a reason…you can now comment to superstarcastic without officially registering on the site. we couldn’t call ourselves a socialist collective if we didn’t condone sharing, after all.
this means that the shy and terrified among you can actually voice your opinions without worrying that we will track you down by your email address and kill you for liking billy joel or panic!#$^& at the disco or even (gulp) my chemical romance. don’t get me wrong - we would much rather know who you are so as to properly make fun of you. however, if you have something to say, by all means make up a pseudonym and jump on in there.
also, merry holidays and all that. we will probably be low on the postings over the next week and a half or so but please bookmark us and come back - we will make it worth your while, we promise.
For his most recent studio album Born in the UK.
Mar 03 Philadelphia PA @ Theatre of Living Arts
Mar 05 Somerville MA @ Somerville Theatre
Mar 06 Washington DC @ 9.30 Club
Mar 07 New York NY @ Webster Hall
Mar 09 Detroit MI @ Majestic Theatre
Mar 10 Chicago IL @ Metro
Mar 11 Minneapolis MN @ Fine Line Music Cafe
Mar 13 Nashville TN @ Exit/In
Mar 14 Atlanta GA @ The Loft
Mar 16 Austin TX @ Stubbs Bar-B-Q (outdoors-SXSW)
Mar 18 Boulder CO @ Fox Theatre
Mar 19 Salt Lake City UT @ Urban Lounge
Mar 21 San Diego CA @ House of Blues
Mar 22 Los Angeles CA @ El Rey Theatre
Mar 23 San Francisco CA @ Great American Music Hall
Mar 25 Portland OR @ Aladdin Theatre
Mar 26 Seattle WA @ Neumo’s
Mar 27 Vancouver BC @ Richards on Richards
