Sugar Ray and the Losers

On September 13 Sugar Ray came to Humboldt County (I'm assuming the band actually showed). As to be expected, there were people who were pretty excited about this turn of events. Why wouldn't they be? We get Kenny Rogers and Nightranger. All things considered, Sugar Ray looks like Moses coming down from the mount.

When I was at the Redwood Acres Raceway two weeks ago I was sitting in front of some people old enough to drink, but too young to actually know better when it came to Sugar Ray. "I want to go see him," the girl said. It was as if she thought Mr. Mark was Sugar Ray, like Mr. Rob is Judas Priest.

"Why?" the one boy asked. At least he had the good sense to question this nonsense.

"Because. How often can you say you saw Sugar Ray?"

And that's the point. Nobody should ever have to say they saw Sugar Ray ... at least not willingly. You can say you were dragged their by an aunt who thought she was being "cool." You can say you went with some girl in hopes of a bj in the parking lot afterward (and you better have gotten one -- a wet one with swallowing). You can say you took your mentally disabled sibling because it "meant so much to him." You can never say you actually wanted to go.

Sugar Ray is the equivalent to a fancy dinner date at Arby's. It is what people who don't really like or know music listen to. It is something you keep on the radio, but hope to God the hot girl in the car next to you hears. (She is listening to Christian Death and has heavy black eyeliner on. She looks like she could kill you, but you'd thoroughly enjoy that slaughter. Her breasts are concealed under a fading t-shirt, but you can imagine the most incredible nipples. And that skirt? Pure sexual heat. If she hears that, the slim chance you had that you would even make eye contact is gone. Sugar Ray destroys all things good ... unless you like drunk frat girls who have lost track of the number of penises that have been inside them, and can't remember the faces of half those guys.)

I, of course, did not go see this. Would not go see this. I'm not Sugar Ray's audience. I have taste in music. If you went, I hope you had a good time. And if you were dragged to it, I hope you got that bj. If you didn't, maybe you should write to Mr. Mark. He might suck just like his music.

Phony Beatlemania

I can't escape it. Beatlemania has once again gripped the people around me. A video game featuring the band and a CD box set were released roughly at the same time, which means that every jackass around me is sporting a t-shirt with the Fab Four (sounds like a gay superhero team) and stores are pumping in the music.

It's enough to make me want to shoot Paul McCartney.

My feelings on the band are well known and thoroughly justified. If anyone else did "Strawberry Fields Forever," critics would be trashing them. Since it came from the Beatles, however, it's like God ejaculated straight into their ears. Give me a break.

I could live with hearing the band on the radio every once in a while. I could live with someone humming one of its songs (I like to hum shit I know people will get stuck in their heads). But now it is constant. Fifteen-year-olds are wearing Beatles shirts. What the fuck? No teenager should be sporting a Beatles shirt. Whatever happened to pissing off your parents? Now you are your parents. Jesus. What next? Perhaps you'll start a retirement fund or do something really daring like wear sandals to the mall. Christ.

It has to stop at some point. People have to come to their sense again. Maybe Whitney Houston will overdose or something. I just want something to come along and take their minds off this new fascination that is as pointless as it is disturbing. Can't people still be mourning Michael Jackson?

When will this madness end?

Making Sense of the Notes

I'm a writer, so it makes sense that I'd like to know what causes people to read what I write. I would also like to know because I'm trying to use my blogs to generate extra income. Ideally, making a living off writing is what I want to do. My royalty checks from the book aren't big enough, and another book being published seems far off, so these blogs are what I've got at the moment.

Google, which is the mommy of blogspot, has this neat thing called analytics. Through it I can learn all sorts of information about Satanic Music For Good Children. Here's a sample of the keywords that bring people to the site: satanic music, Dead Kennedys and disrespect, GG Allin songs about molesting children, music band the Yes satanic, good satanic music, (and my personal favorite) Ted Kennedy satanic. These are people who have ended up on my blog.

I'm a bit worried.

The Adam and the Ants piece has brought the most views, which I find inspirational.

A lot of people have found the blog through my Cancerous Zeitgeist blog, which is also good. Others have linked to me on Facebook, which lands some folks my way.

What does all of this mean?

Not much. The blog isn't making money. I briefly thought about asking bands if they want to advertise here, and if any are interested please let me know, but I have to like you in order to do it (that excludes most hip hop, country and opera -- sorry).

I do know I want to keep it going. I enjoy writing about music and exposing people to stuff they haven't heard before or may have forgotten about. I just wonder if it's worth it. This blog gets little to no comments, and the page views seem to be dropping.

The months to come will paint the picture, I guess. I'll see how the numbers look in about three months. See if there are more hits. See if people looking up songs about the evil Ted Kennedy are still coming here.

If not, maybe I'll pull the plug, or do some kind of overhaul or something. Hell if I know.

CD Review: The Bloody Lovelies

Some Truth & a Little Money is one of those releases that rubs me the wrong way from the start. The first song, "Hologram," which has the horrible line "I am a hologram" reminds me of what the Beatles would sound like if the band had some balls. Not a good thing in my book.

Part two of the anger: Randy Wooten is the man behind the vocals. He also plays the piano for the band. The piano. The band is called the Bloody Lovelies. There should be no piano in a band of that name.

Four scruffy white guys who are about as threatening as a virgin White Russian. Cheap Lullaby Records, which put this out, must be targeting the "bands you can introduce your mom to" market, and this would be the poster child for that movement. By the time the last song, "A Million Years From Now" comes around (and all the songs sound basically the same), I kept thinking, "I cannot play this on the same stereo that routinely hosts Nashville Pussy." It seems like a fucking crime.

The press release describes these guys as "4 rockers." Really? Has our definition of rock fallen so far? This came out in 2003 (I'm behind on my music reviews), but the definition can't have changed that much. Could it? Hasil Adkins -- rocker. Jerry J. Nixon -- rocker. The Black Crowes for Christ's sake -- rockers. This? Elevator music for the younger Sears shoppers.

I will admit that the band can play its instruments. The singer's voice isn't grating, either. But everything about this band is so blah that I can't help but wonder why the fuck these guys even try. I can picture them playing the same five bars for years, praying for the day they can all quit their day jobs in construction and the restaurant business. That day never comes, though, but they stick at it. Never getting any new fans. Never progressing.

Maybe I'm wrong. I'm so out of touch with what is popular these days (thank Jesus) that this band could be huge, and I sound like a fool. If that is the case, you people who put this band there are idiots. This is what happens when rock is dominated by men who love their grandparents.

Lord, whatever happened to anger?

Chumbawamba In Style

Gotta love Chumbawamba. Pay five pounds now and when Thatcher dies (here's to hoping it's sooner than later), you get the In Memoriam, Margaret Thatcher ep. Click here to pre-order. It's pressed and waiting to go. All you need now is for Thatcher to bite it.

Dead Kennedys

The death of Ted Kennedy (ironically enough not from a car accident) brings to mind one of the best punk bands with one of the best names ever. That's right: the Dead Kennedys. Nothing says disrespect better than a name that matches death with America's fucked up royalty.

The Dead Kennedys has had its share of misfortune. Lawsuits, in-fighting, commercialism, a song being tied to a near rape scene in a movie and so on. It hasn't been pretty, and it's actually quite a shame that a band that influenced my teen years immensely has been reduced to the waste that is so many other bands. Through it all, though, I supported Jello Biafra, though I haven't always agreed with him.

As I write this, tributes to Teddy boy are playing on television, all glossing over the infamous drunk driving incident that cost a life. I think if the Dead Kennedys were still around in anything that resembled its original formation the guys would be having a field day with this. Matt Lauer, always an insightful pundit (he notes sarcastically) just said that many people have compared (so Lauer can't be accused of comparing) Ted Kennedy's life to a Greek tragedy. Interesting, and more fodder for the fire.

I almost grabbed some Dead Kennedys to take to work. Instead I went with Total Fucking Destruction. It seems more appropriate, as the DK dream is no more. Forever inspired, though, no matter how much the legal battles have disappointed me.

Thanks, Ted. You brought back some awesome memories.

Les Paul

Thank you.

It's The Beatles!

I am one of 33 people in the world who thinks the Beatles is one of the most overrated bands to ever assault our ears. I hate it more than Led Zeppelin. Hell, the Brits are just as overhyped as Citizen Kane, a movie that far too many critics claim to be the best film of all time just because they don't want to seem out of the loop.

A Beatle's fan once told me she liked the songs because they were beautiful in their simplicity. I will agree they are simple. They are also boring, pedestrian, and lack any kind of real emotion. The Monkees actually made happier songs and had a far better singer, too.

The fact is: The Beatles produced boring music. It was the right band at the right time, and like herpes it stuck around. Sweet death only solidified its standing in music history. One has to think, though, that Lennon, had he not been shot, would probably be hosting some kind of reality show these days. Perhaps putting together the new Beatles.

It's all a bunch of shit pushed forth by lazy music journalists onto a lazy public. And most of them bought it. What's that about suckers being born? It is actually nothing more than a boy band that made it really big without the dancing. And, yes, the members took part in the drug years and the music showed for it. Yawn. Fucking hippie shit there, too.

If there's any proof that this band is evil, one only has to remember that because of it we got Wings, which has .... interesting ... songs to say the least. I like them for part of it, but since each song that's a hit is like four songs in one, it's tough to like the entire thing.

Another artist who is fairly overrated (but not nearly as much as the Beatles) is Bruce Springsteen. That said, Springsteen's "Born to Run" has more more emotion and sincerity in it than any ten of the Beatles' songs combined. (Ironically, it also has a song structure similar to some of Wings' hits.) When you put that song next to the Beatles, the Beatles cease to exist, which brings up another point.

If the Beatles were to come out today, the band would not be nearly as popular as it was. In fact, I believe it would come and go without much notice until VH1 did an "I Love the ..." special. One hit. Maybe two. The world would stop caring.

Overrated. Overhyped. Over played. Over.

Mike Diana Art Raffle And Closing Party

Press release for your consideration (Diana is a great guy who got a bum rap):

FINAL DAYS of MIKE DIANA ART RAFFLE & CLOSING PARTY
AUGUST 8th @ Passout Records - Brooklyn
Live Music, Original Art, Paintings, T-Shirts, Video & Puppet Show

contact: Jefe aka Johnny Chiba: ph: 917-250-7192 - e: jefe@testpress.net - AIM: testicle88

WHO: MIKE DIANA - first artist convicted of obscenity in Florida
WHEN: Saturday, August 8th, 7-10PM
WHERE: PASSOUT RECORD SHOP: 131 Grand Street (bet Bedford/Berry)
Williamsburg Brooklyn 718.384.7273

OPENING BANDS START AT 5PM:
The Aliens
Wombat In Combat

ENTER THE MIKE DIANA SUPERPHAT RAFFLE - Only $5.00
Help Mike pay off his Florida fines

Anyone who enters raffle gets a small exclusive b/w print signed by Mike, so everyone wins!
Enter as many times as you like, via pay pal online, by mail or at the Closing Party.

Two winners (1 online, 1 at closing party) will receive:

The Worst of
Boiled Angel

Superfly
Comix #1

Superfly
Comix #2
"Nancy" t-shirt
Bubblegum
Ghost Girl print

Note: as pay pal does not allow raffles, anyone who purchases this signed, exclusive b/w print
(for $5), or anything from mikedianacomix.com now thru August 8 will be entered into raffle... wink!

Send $5 via pay pal (use "mikediana@testpress.net")
or send well-hidden fiver, check or money order (attn: "Mike Diana")
c/o TEST PRESS, PO Box 1582, Cooper Station, NY NY 10276

Important: include name, email, address and "MIKE DIANA PRINT"

Winners will be chosen August 8th


Closing Party Flyer

MORE INFO:
jefe @ testpress.net
www.mikedianacomix.com

In 1994, underground cartoonist Mike Diana was thrown in jail for 4 days without bail on obscenity charges, for publishing, advertising, and selling his zine BOILED ANGEL. Mike was on probation for 3 years, terms included fines of $3000, no contact with minors, 1280 hours of community service, maintain full time employment, and at his expense, see a psychiatrist and take journalism courses at his own expense; AND no drawing for his own personal use... his home was subject to unannounced searches by local police to make sure he was complying. On June 4, 1996, a ruling issued by Largo, Florida, Circuit Judge Douglas Baird declared Mike Diana's zines, Boiled Angel #7 and #ATE as obscene. The judge emphasized that he personally found Diana's comics "patently offensive." and stated, "The evident goal of the appellant's publication is to portray shocking and graphic pictures of sexual conduct so it will be noticed. If the message is about victimization and that horrible things are happening in our society, as the appellant alleges, the appellant SHOULD HAVE created a vehicle to send his message that was not obscene." Mike Diana was served with another 2 years of probation, including $2000 in fines, and the same probationary terms.

15 years after his initial Florida arrest on pornography charges for mailing his zine Boiled Angel to an undercover agent,
Mike Diana is still subject to harassment from the law for not paying off thousands of dollars in fines from his 1994 conviction;
In April 2009, Mike was detained flying back from Sweden's Comic Art School, Swedish airport authorities called Homeland
Security in Florida to ask if they wanted to come arrest him. Two weeks later, returning from Bolivia's Vinetas Con Altura
(Bullets With Height) Art show, Mike was forced to wait a full week to reroute his flights to NOT go through Florida.

music news

Ant Music

Anyone I've ever met who has liked Adam and the Ants has been cool. No exceptions. I've met plenty of cool people who don't like Adam and the Ants, but every single Ant fan has been awesome. I don't know what it is, and I'm sure there are a few dicks out there, but overall -- incredible.

Back in the '80s this was a band I was fascinated with. Admittedly it was the band's costumes that attracted me to it. The music, though, sealed the deal. Songs of adventure, romance and voodoo got under this young boy's skin and stayed there. I even watched that Nickelodeon concert special way back in the day. If I recall right, part of it took place on a pirate ship.

Fucking cool.

Yeah, Adam and the Ants is pop music, but it's not like any pop music before or since. It had something special to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It was like it music out of time, yet timeless. It holds up to this day, too, and does not sound dated. That's kind of weird when you think of the era it came out of.

Like Prince, Doug and the Slugs and a handful of others, fans of this band all share the knowledge that they are onto something special that some people in the world just haven't caught onto yet. Call us elite (we would argue). Call us delusional (we may not argue that one). Just don't call into question the fact that this band had a look and sound as unique as anything you've ever seen and heard.

That voodoo that you do, indeed.

Very Pro Pain

"Are you listening to angry music?" my co-worker asked.

I was at work. I'm always listening to angry music. In this case it was Pro-Pain. Great stuff. Gave it a good review in Tattoo Savage if memory serves me correctly. My co-worker could tell something was up by the expression on my face.

Angry music is cathartic. Like writing, it lets my demons out. It pumps me up for the day. It gets me motivated. It's no wonder that during the first Gulf War (GWI -- The Beginning) soldiers killed the innocent and not-so-innocent to a soundtrack of Slayer. This, of course, leads to the question: Is music dangerous?

It's not, but it should be.

Most of the music forced on us today by the radio, television shows and rags like Rolling Stone is so safe that you have to wonder if it would even offend your religious aunt who won't watch toilet paper commercials because they are too suggestive. I wish that weren't the case, though.

In a perfect world, music would inspire more than it does now. Inspiration is nothing but dangerous. That's even more potent than GG Allin inspired mayhem. Allin was dangerous to his audience. Crass was dangerous to society. We don't have anything like those two acts these days. Now everything is sanitized for your protection. If your idea of dangerous is a Twisted Sister reunion, you got another thing comin'.

Yes, aggressive music makes me aggressive. Yes, I like it because it causes me to work faster. Yes, I think aggressive music is a good thing. If there's a problem with that, it's only because there isn't nearly enough good aggressive music out there.

So today it was Pro-Pain and Plantabiss, a stoner grindcore band few people actually remember. Tomorrow? I don't know, but I do know it will be something necessary to get the blood flowing.

Just don't get in my fucking way.

7/4/92 -- Ass Song

Where were you July 4, 1992? Sitting in the backyard sipping a cool beverage while you watched your neighbors swim and hoping his wife's bathing suit top would come off? Perhaps you turned up the radio a bit as that hot song came on. You couldn't remember the guy's name. It was too black for you. But you knew the song. It was about women's asses.

"Baby Got Back." Sir Mix-A-Lot.

It was number one that week. It had the country by its puckered hole, and it was accompanied by a video that was nothing short of anal worshipping. (Later Burger King would use the song so its customers could know what part of the cow they were eating.)

It was, by every stretch of the definition, a bad song. Pointless. Tired. Novelty. It was the kind of thing older people couldn't believe was on the radio and younger kids thought was funny. Anyone between 15 and 30 just thought it was dumb.

While still a joke, it is no longer number one. That was actually the only Fourth of July when it was. It was replaced the next year by Janet Jackson singing one of her songs (they all sound the same so no title is necessary), and no song since then that has hit number one on the Fourth has matched it for sheer pointlessness. Maybe Brandy and Monica's 1998 hit "The Boy is Mine." Maybe not.

Of course, any self-respecting music lover knows Top 40 music is utter crap, so being number one only means your crap floated to the top of the bowl. Occasionally something good, like 1984's entry (Prince's "When Doves Cry") will sneak in and remind you that sometimes the public gets it right, but 1992 capped it. It was totally downhill from there. Not even the 1989 Milli Vanilli classic "Baby Don't Forget My Number" was as bad as Mix's ass anthem, and I'm glad one of the Vanilli boys are dead.

Freedom, as you should know by now, does not mean freedom from bad music. It only means you are free to ogle you neighbor's wife.

Boz Scaggs Visits Humboldt

The Scaggs, whose last name sounds very much like a skin disorder, will visit the Arkley Center 8/3/09. I know people who are excited about this. I don't know why.

Humboldt County has plenty of great local music, but many of our citizens get wet over the idea of a one-time name coming to our little corner of the world. Night Ranger comes to mind.

I'm not a Boz Scaggs fan. I won't go see him for all the obvious reasons. I am, however, tempted to hang out outside the venue selling "genuine" Scaggs merchandise like condoms and coke spoons. It could be exciting.

Besides, I just want to see who will show up to this thing. I can imagine some husband getting his wife tickets and her saying, "You are so getting laid tonight." And he will, while visions of Scaggs runs through her head.

The mind reels ...

You Are Missed

Sixteen years ago. Right around this time. Got word of his death while in New Orleans. And while I don't agree with everything he's said, this is why I respect him.





How many of you could face a crowd and say the things he did without your voice trembling? He would have fought them all, too.

Long live, GG.

He's Still Dead!

With the amount of coverage given to it, you would think Mr. Jackson's death was another 9/11. Obviously it's not. It's just another dead musician with the stench of little boys' fear lingering over it ... something a lot of media have glossed over.

Granted, the Gloved One (shades of a proctologist ready to probe) was never convicted of placing pre-pubescent penises into his mouth or any other orifice. He reached a rather large settlement with one accuser in order to avoid a media fiasco like "O.J.," his words. For a man who has thrived on creating media spectacles, I guess that one was too much to take.

There could be truth to his assertions that he didn't want to be dragged through the mud like O.J.. There could be some truth to the fact that since he was a celebrity people would accuse him of anything. There could be some truth that his decidedly odd behavior and words about children could be misinterpreted. But it could also be true, and is in fact far more likely (a duck is a duck, after all), that he molested young boys. Fans of Jackson can ignore that, the media can ignore that (perhaps waiting for the inevitable backlash to examine further), but the man had been accused of it for so long by so many that one has to wonder.

Some of you are saying I'm a hypocrite. I've written positive words about GG Allin and mourned his death. There's a difference, though. GG Allin was open about who he was and what he did. The man who slept in the same bed as non-related children was not ... maybe.

I can't say for sure what went on in Neverland (strangely named as it is). But I'm sure somebody knows. If he is proven innocent, I'll be the first to apologize. He won't be, though, because it's impossible at this point. Just as some people wouldn't believe he molested boys even if they saw a video of it.

If you look at the psychology of a lot of male molesters of boys, you will see some of the same behaviors in Jackson. Surrounded himself with boys. Never seemed to grow up. Related better to children. The list goes on.

And the parents who let their children stay over at his mansion are just as guilty.

Jackson is still dead, and the heartfelt (if talentless) tributes continue ... and will for some time. I personally don't care one way or another. Jackson had zero effect on my life. For several million people, however, those with surprising absences of memory, they are spending their days moonwalking and reminiscing about how they lost their virginity to "Billie Jean."

I'm sure their not the only ones. They were probably of legal age, however.

The King Of Pop

He's dead. Heard the news at work and blurted out, "DYT! Dead Young Thing." Yeah, he was 50, but I was on the spot.

I never really cared about Michael Jackson, and I believe he probably did molest some kids. I also never understood why people liked him so much. Prince has more talent and style than Mr. Jackson, but Michael was apparently more acceptable to the mainstream public. Bland music for bland people. That's how I see it.

The plastic commentator on "Early Today" said he heard people would be talking about their favorite Michael Jackson song and favorite Farrah Fawcett role. Is it any wonder people are turning away from the major networks for news when crap like that comes out of people's mouths?

My favorite Michael Jackson song? None. I taped "Thriller" off the radio when I was young, but only because I was a Vincent Price fan. His death means I won't have to hear any new music, which is a blessing, unless they pull a Tupac on him. If that's the case we'll be saddled with high-pitched squeals for the next decade or so.

So, yea! A mediocre singer is dead. For all that praise, and it will come out, what has he done in the past few years that has actually been worth any kind of merit?

Thought so.

The only thing sad about all of this is that in the Next World there are a bunch of little boys suddenly very, very scared.

A Side Of Hell

I started my trip today by turning on our local classic rock station, KXGO, and experienced "Paint it Black" by none other than the Rolling Stones. Every single one of you should be familiar with the song.

I don't want to say that song is an omen, but it does sum up how I've been feeling lately. I can't put my finger on why, but that song just fits the mood.

I've never been the biggest Rolling Stones fan, but I won't turn off the radio when one of the band's songs come on. I don't think the band is overrated like The Beatles or Led Zeppelin, but I also feel like the later stuff is a bit played out. "Paint it Black," however, is classic.

If memory serves correctly, The Avengers have done a cover of the song, and it was used as the opening number for China Beach. Again, I could be wrong, but it seems appropriate.

Am I still in that mood? Yeah. Kind of. Lack of money does that. But I can thank the Rolling Stones for letting me know I'm not alone in my desire to color it a darker shade. For that, I am thankful.