There are some bands about whom I just don’t get the hype. I mean, I don’t get the hype on most pop stars; though I’ll say some of the modern pop singers have a surprising depth of lyrics these days, which is cool.

There was a period there where it felt like all pop music had devolved to simply repeating a catch phrase or inspirational snippet over a half-catchy beat. Some of it is still that. Fight Song sounds like it was written for a corporate retreat, for fuck’s sake.

Today, though, I’m talking about revered bands, bands that are held up as true legends and pioneers, almost indisputably.

And I don’t get it.

Pink Floyd comes to mind, as do the Grateful Dead. I’m not saying they’re bad bands or they make bad music, only that nine times out of ten, the person going on and on about them is demonstrating a pretentiousness that suggests maybe this is their godhead only because it allows them look cooler because of the shared myth of transcending music or culture we’ve created around these particular bands, and not because of actual artistic catalyst.

I’m not saying Kurt Cobain didn’t know what he was talking about, but the Meat Puppets are meh, most of the time.

The Velvet Underground, on the other hand…

That one I fucking get.

This is going to sound pretentious, but it’s one of those things. You hear Sweet Jane or Lou Reed’s Take A Walk On The Wild Side and think, this is pretty cool, and then, you listen to one or another and next thing you know, your whole brain is lost in the discord of Murder Mystery or Berlin or live concert footage of Alaska and you’re going, holy shit. This is the real deal.

Is every song amazing? No, of course not. Are they all good? Haven’t heard one yet I didn’t like.

The weird part is Andy Warhol. I’ve never really cared for Warhol’s own art, most of it being the kind of pretentiousness that turns me off, but as a facilitator of art, a discoverer of great artists?

I’m not sure there’s anyone better.

See? I can be pretentious too, motherfucker.

Target: 500 words
Written: 1101 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Pride And Prejudice And Zombies, Seth Grahame-Smith
Comics: East Of West 40-43
Music: King Animal, Soundgarden (you know what, pretty darn good for a late stage reunion album)

I was thinking about the Super Bowl this morning. Not the whole Taylor/Kelce/who-gives-a-shit, but Usher.

The only song, in my opinion, worth being on that show, in fact, the one that probably could have saved that mostly homogenous and unknown set would have been DJ Got Us Falling In Love.

It would have sent the subliminal into the crowd, and maybe actually made that connection, instead of having most people thinking, “I’ve never heard this one” and wondering where the good songs are.

Personally, it’s the only song of Usher’s worth a shit, in my world, and one of his biggest, and he just skipped it.

I guess weird and dumb decisions always make me wonder. It’s one thing if you’re going for something different and you want to break out of a stereotype, but this is a pop star at the Superbowl.

Play your hits, dummy.

Like, if you want to get insanely arty or pretentious about it, then you need to transcend, like Cobain on MTV Unplugged or Lou Reed anything.

But a pop star? At the Superbowl?

Play your hits, dummy.

Target: 500 words
Written: 878 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell, Tucker Max (I know, I know)
Comics: East Of West 9-12
Music: Kids Soundtrack, Folk Implosion et al