Perhaps you read my Top Ten Albumz Of Twenty-Ten post for Crawdaddy.com (or, perhaps, you loathe end-of-the-year list-based nostalgia, and you didn’t). I was looking over this piece last night and, apropos of nothing, suddenly began wondering to which U.S. president each selection most closely corresponds. After an hour of furious pencil scribbling and equally frenzied naugahyde chewing, I had the answers below.
1. Kvelertak – Kvelertak
Teddy Roosevelt. Blustery, forceful, hearty. Doesn’t give up until its final breath.
2. Big Boi – Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son Of Chico Dusty
Bill Clinton. Charismatic and focused with a layer of devious sexuality bubbling just below the surface.
3. OFF! – First Four Eps
Harry Truman. Short, cranky, but not without an indelible charm.
4. Bloodlights – Simple Pleasures
Dwight Eisenhower. Not breaking any new ground, but strangely comforting in its self-assured rule.
5. Devo – Something For Everybody
Calvin Coolidge. Keeping cool and using aloof as a weapon.
6. Das Racist – Shut Up, Dude
John F. Kennedy. Coasting on wit and intelligence just as much as image.
7. Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
Richard Nixon. Unexpected accomplishment overshadowed by comically awful persona.
8. GBH – Perfume & Piss
Andrew Jackson. Charging in, causing a ruckus, refusing to apologize for boorish behavior.
9. The Sword – Warp Riders
Jimmy Carter. Laid back, on message, maybe a little too soft at times.
10. Thee Oh Sees – Warm Slime
Barack Obama. Thin, somewhat tropical, will probably make you smile despite fifteen minutes of saying nothing.
Sleeveless shirts totally improve my guitar playing. Steve Vai and Yngwie Malmsteen can shove their ugly fucking scalloped guitars up their expanded assholes. Sleeveless shirts have way more impact. These guys are just too fucking lame to get it.”
The above quote comes from Bloodlights front man Captain Poon, whom I recently interviewed for Crawdaddy! Check it out if you’re into the Scandinavian rock scene. If you’re not, you could always read this shit I wrote about Devo.
Speaking of hard labor, an article I wrote about rock star day jobs is slated to be published in the next Canadian edition of Uncle John’s Bathroom Reader. That junk just went to press, so it should be hitting book store shelves soon (end of the month?). I invite all the toque-wearing hose-heads trapped in America’s hat to get down on JG2’s first international funky book joint.
Hey, does anyone else remember when Zakk Wylde didn’t look like Captain Caveman? Way back in the early nineties, I mean. Back then, Zakk was just some normal-ass blonde guitar guy. At what point exactly did he transform into Beardo, the Beer-Swilling Rock Grizzly? Lately I’ve been walking by the Guitar Center near Union Square in the city a lot, and they have this big poster in the window of Zakk pre-Grizzly days. It’s very weird. Without his signature hypno-guitar, you’d never be able to identify him.
Meanwhile, next to dashing young Zakk, they have this photo of the Ramones from around the time they broke up. Joey and the gang look like the saddest, oldest sacks you’ve ever seen (Joey is totally rockin’ his purple XXL “I don’t give a fuck anymore” shirt in this pic). It’s sort of criminal that a business in NYC is allowed to display such a haggard photo of the Ramones. I’d complain, but that would require walking in to Guitar Center and talking to some jagoff who looks like every guy in Crazy Town.
“What’s up, bro? Can I help you with anything? You need some light gauge strings or something?”
In case you were wondering, the title of this post is a reference to a hilarious food-based parody I wrote of that old Alice In Chains chestnut “Man In The Box.” Hopefully I’ll finish my time machine soon so I can go back to 1992 and force “Weird Al” to record it. Then I’ll be rich as shit and I’ll never have any problems again.
You know what I’m really dreading? That Runaways movie with Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning. I bet that’s just gonna be melted dog shit.