In 1999, at some point, I was surely making some sort of comment on alt.music.faithnomore or alt.music.mr-bungle about how people should stop ragging on Dillinger Escape Plan (because they were still good then) and stop feeling threatened by the more approachable sounds of California. The songs on California may have been more pop oriented but were still great, and if you needed a dose of weird there was always a Moonraker concert or bootleg around somewhere. Continue reading “The First Cut: Mondo Cane”
Most of my memories of the K-Mart in town stink with the smell of new shoes. This phenomenon was caused by the toy and electronic sections sharing a wall with the shoe racks. Maybe my mom bought me shoes there, but I certainly bought a bunch of toys there; Transformers, Centurions, GI Joe, and He-Man if you need to set your calendars. Also, set your calendars to 1984, when on a trip with my grandma* I bought the Honedrippers album. Continue reading “The First Cut: The Honeydrippers, Vol. 1”
Growing up I had four albums that I kept in the kitchen, prime listening for when I was doing the dishes: Mozart’s Requiem mass, Robert Johnson: The Complete Recordings, Ride The Lightning, and Peace Sells. . . But Who’s Buying? The Robert Johnson songs were my top choice, but I held the other three in about equal regard. That’s right: Metallica and Megadeth were equals, perhaps nowhere else but in my kitchen. The main reason they remained equal is that Kirk Hammett still sounded like Dave Mustaine until Master Of Puppets. There, I’ve said it. Continue reading “The First Cut: Rust In Peace & . . . And Justice For All”
I thought I would share my initial thoughts on Raw Power, unedited. I was a little drunk on scotch. Continue reading “Gimme Danger, Part One”
Van Halen’s 1984 was the soundtrack of my introduction to Dungeons and Dragons.
Welcome to The Pirate George Letters. Let’s talk Eurythmics for a sec. . . Whatever else you may read here, know that my first influence was Annie Lennox’s riding-crop-spanked-androgo-synth. To think that a butch lady with a red flat top, probably a cyborg, could sing about (with the robots from Herbie Handcock’s “Rockit” video […]