Category: music

misheard lyrics

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It happens all the time (there’s a bathroom on the right, anyone?)

The worst one I can think, for myself, was my confusion (and when it comes on the radio I still hear it) over Poker Face by Lady Gaga.

I mean, I know, ostensibly, that she’s saying P-P-P-Poker Face, but no matter how many times it comes on, or how hard I listen, it still sounds like F-F-F-Fuck Her Face.

And that’s not a slight, even though I think Lady Gaga is vastly overrated. It’s just how it comes across, every time.

No matter how much I try, how I tell myself what it actually is, it still sounds the same.

We hear what we want to hear, I guess?

Target: 1300 words
Written: 1146 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Grass Is Singing, Doris Lessing (it's keeping my interest, but man, so bleak)
Comics: Seven To Eternity 8-9, Low 19, Deadly Class 30
Music: Eye Of The Tiger, Survivor

well, that was… better

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Heeeyyy baaaby,,, it’s the ffifth of jullllyyyyyyyy!

Something about Mexican children and fireworks.

Thanks, X.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1095 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Agent To The Stars, John Scalzi
Comics: Deadly Class 13-14, Black Science 15, Low 7 
Music: Evil Empire, Rage Against The Machine

brian wilson

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And now, Brian Wilson?

Goddamnit.

Sly Stone I could take because I don’t have a lot of connection there, but I’ve been listening to Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys as long as I can remember (fuck Mike Love). We even saw them in concert when they (meaning Mike Love and a bunch of randoms) came to play at the bandstand in Tecumseh Park.

It was nice.

The innocence of it all hiding the troubled mind in behind… wouldn’t it be better if Brian had sang what he wanted? If he’d sang about his pain.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

For Brian Wilson to be still alive.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 798 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card
Comics: Aspen Universe: Decimation 0, Fathom v6 5-7
Music: The Essential, Bruce Springsteen (fuck you, you probably don't know what Born In The USA is even about, you nationalistic prick)

happy birthday, sis

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Sly Stone dies and my sister lives another year. Good for her.

Not that she shouldn’t live another year. Like all the people I love, I hope she lives until I die, at least. After that, well, I hope for her sake she lives a long time, but hell, I’ll be dead. What would it matter to me?

Then again, there’s always reincarnation. Maybe I’ll come back as a vibrator.

Assuming I’m bought by a Hollywood starlet, that’d be cool, I guess.

Or a carrier of the Republican virus, in that it only targets individuals who voted Republican, and rewires their brains to be permanently set on Mr. Rogers.

Now, wouldn’t that be a nice cleanse?

Sometimes, I think the stars aligned and decided: there is something truly, profoundly wrong with this guy.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1715 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Ender's Game, Orson Scott Card
Comics: Fathom v6 1-4
Music: Equal Strain On All Parts, Jimmy Buffett (fuck you, it's better than you think)

sly stone’s dead

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I’m not really sure what that means other than a continued reaffirmation of the cycle of life and death, or the misconception that I had that he was already dead.

Not that I’m the biggest fan of the Family Stone, but there was some good stuff.

Death in obscurity; life in obscurity.

Death in Cheers; everyone knows your name; in life, as well.

Which end of the scale? Do we all forget Angela Cartwright and her sister? Do you know her sister’s name?

Who ran IBM in the Seventies? Who stood in front of the tanks?

Whatever happened to P.J. Soles?

There’s a strong chance I’m losing it; obscurity within the family unit has me lost.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1510 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Blackbirds, Chuck Wendig
Comics: Aspen Universe: Revelations 2-5
Music: Eponymous, R.E.M.

what the hell

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It’s been two days and I can’t get this song out of my head.

That, and Pink Pony Club.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1837 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis (more like The Pilgrim's Snorefest, am I right?)
Comics: Fathom: Kiani v4 1-3, The Four Points 1
Music: Endless Wire, The Who

avril

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I forgot how much I enjoy a good concert.

The shared experience, even if the music isn’t necessarily your style; it’s special. As much of an introvert who hates crowds as I am, I appreciated the experience.

The girls loved it.

And good for Avril; she put on a good show, if a bit low energy.

Anyway, it’s fun to get lost in a wall of sound.

I should like to do it more often.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 825 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis
Comics: Fathom: Kiani v3 2-4, Fathom: Annual 1
Music: Endgame, Rise Against (palate cleanser after Don Henley)

live music

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It’s been a long time since I went to a concert, and Avril Lavigne wouldn’t exactly be my first choice, but I’m looking forward to it.

Not only is it huge good dad/husband/uncle points, it should still be pretty fun. I’m not a huge fan or anything, but as far as bubblegum pop goes, she’s hardly the worst thing out there.

You couldn’t drag me to a Lady Gaga show, and if the word boy band has ever been used to describe it, I’d rather exfoliate with hydrochloric acid.

(The first is dramatically overrated and the second is the apotheosis of everything wrong with the corporatization of music.)

Still. Could be cool, and the girls should love it.

What’s the word for when it makes you happy to see the people you love happy?

Oh, right.

Compersion.

I’m hoping to be fully compersed.

Target: 1200 words
Written: 765 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: The Pilgrim's Regress, C.S. Lewis (what the fuck am I reading?  World's greatest strawman arguments?)
Comics: Fathom v5 6-8, Fathom: Kiani v3 1
Music: The End Of The Innocence, Don Henley (he says, revealing how uncool he truly is)

tenors

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It’s hard to write from viewpoints you don’t understand. Like, I’ve referenced the Three Tenors a couple of times in Bad Neighbours, as a symbol of higher art, but it’s something I’d never listen to. I’m sure it’s whatever, but I’m way more into people being genuine in their art; singing opera never felt truly genuine to me. It’s more about technique than emotion, more about the mastery of a skill than the genuine connection to the source material.

You can cover a song and imbue it with real meaning, but it’s when you use the song as a way to show off your skills that you lose me. It’s why I never gave a shit about Eddie Van Halen. Yeah, he was technically gifted, but there was as much genuine humanity and emotion in his work as Milli Vanilli. It’s also why I think AC/DC is brilliant. No, there’s no depth of lyrics there, and yes, Angus is as gifted as Eddie Van Halen, but you can tell when you listen to their songs, they fucking love what they do. They are themselves, unapologetically, and that, on its own, makes it worthy of a listen.

It’s the difference between a song sung with meaning in a show (see Daisy Jones & The Six) versus a standard musical. The gang covering Ooh La La had meaning to the plot, and added depth to the story. When they hamhand it into something like Riverdale or pretentious garbage like Moulin Rouge, it takes away from the story.

Musicals are bad for the same reason “show, don’t tell” is the rule in good writing. It’s exposition with a backbeat, and that pulls me right out of it. I no longer feel a connection to the characters or the material; you’re just preaching at me, and using a rhythm to do it. 

Target: 1200 words
Written: 1098 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: King Rat, China Mieville (speaking of pretention and music, really, drum & bass as the apotheosis of music, the saviour of all things and the base for communism?  Jesus, why do people like this guy?  Christ, what pretentious twaddle)
Comics: Fathom v2 9-11, Fathom: Kiani 0
Music: Elvis Costello Essential, Elvis Costello (pretention in music day all around, I guess)