I never got the Sex Pistols or much of the proto-Punk movement. It makes far more sense now, listening to people who have a pretty good idea what they're doing with their instruments. I've played in some really horrid bands but with good enough players that we realized how awful we were. When it ceased to be fun, we'd move on. Really the smartest thing to do. I also have never gotten the Johnny Rotten teeth thing, or the Shane McGowan, I'm going to drool, slur and stumble on lyrics. Rotten was singing stuff that was pretty awful; McGowan, when not drunk on his ass, wrote some marvelous stuff. Again, I don't get it.
Sid Vicious - My way (Live Paris 1978)
Uploaded by SlashyGuiGui. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.
So, since I've been feeling lousy the last few days, I have been postponing projects. One of them is taking out my new modeling amp (Line 6 75 Watt model) from it's box and plugging in my Line 6 Variax modeling guitar. Another is writing more stuff for the site I'm writing for under an assumed name. Today, I felt so lousy the only time I really surfaced was to go out to Starbucks for some coffee. As I backed out of the driveway, I heard Andrew Loog Oldham babbling about McCleran, the recently dead manager of the Sex Pistols. I ignored it, and then came on the song. A rendition of a Sinatra classic by Sid Vicious. I can not imagine who could have thought this was a good idea...to play, to record or to broadcast.
Frankly, I think it's right up there with Hank Williams Junior's Necrophiliac duet with his father and the Shatner cover of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Now, it's possible that Hank figured Tear in My Beer was so awful and he had so exhausted the Hank Williams catalog that he had to do something, and here was a justifiably obscure tape of old Luke the Drifter doing his thing; it's possible that Shatner was aware of how awful he was. Hell, this thing is there with some of the worst possible pieces of crap ever conceived of...I'm thinking duet and accordian based duet of Tiny Tim and Weird Al covering Ode to Joy. That's how awful this is.
So, Andrew, thanks a lot. The earworms are out; I have been suffering from Living on a Thin Line haunting, which was kind of ok since it's a great song with great lyrics. But while the Ray Davies masterpiece is kind of holding its own, I know that as soon as my guard drops, I'll have this awful thing in my brain...
Sid Vicious - My way (Live Paris 1978)
Uploaded by SlashyGuiGui. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.
So, since I've been feeling lousy the last few days, I have been postponing projects. One of them is taking out my new modeling amp (Line 6 75 Watt model) from it's box and plugging in my Line 6 Variax modeling guitar. Another is writing more stuff for the site I'm writing for under an assumed name. Today, I felt so lousy the only time I really surfaced was to go out to Starbucks for some coffee. As I backed out of the driveway, I heard Andrew Loog Oldham babbling about McCleran, the recently dead manager of the Sex Pistols. I ignored it, and then came on the song. A rendition of a Sinatra classic by Sid Vicious. I can not imagine who could have thought this was a good idea...to play, to record or to broadcast.
Frankly, I think it's right up there with Hank Williams Junior's Necrophiliac duet with his father and the Shatner cover of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds. Now, it's possible that Hank figured Tear in My Beer was so awful and he had so exhausted the Hank Williams catalog that he had to do something, and here was a justifiably obscure tape of old Luke the Drifter doing his thing; it's possible that Shatner was aware of how awful he was. Hell, this thing is there with some of the worst possible pieces of crap ever conceived of...I'm thinking duet and accordian based duet of Tiny Tim and Weird Al covering Ode to Joy. That's how awful this is.
So, Andrew, thanks a lot. The earworms are out; I have been suffering from Living on a Thin Line haunting, which was kind of ok since it's a great song with great lyrics. But while the Ray Davies masterpiece is kind of holding its own, I know that as soon as my guard drops, I'll have this awful thing in my brain...
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