Rush before Yes? Are you kidding me? Take it from Trevor Horn. Take it from David Thomas. Let’s put Yes in the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame…once and for all.
Does Yes belong in the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame?
Total Voters: 29
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Many of you already know that I am a fairly big fan of the works of Terence Trent D’Arby. The world needs more unapologetically pretentious pop/soul artists, and he certainly was one for the better part of the 1990s.
Anyhow, I chanced upon a listing on YouTube for a TTD video I didn’t know existed: “Dance Little Sister.” Now, I’ve always loved this song — for me, its ferocity seems to transcend the cheeseball 1980s production flourishes that come close to ruining his first album, Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D’Arby. So it’s a winner, and I eagerly clicked to watch TTD tear it up.
Boy, did I dial a wrong number! Who green-lit this stinker?! The band looks unbelievably uncool in every possible way, TTD seems to lack any interest in what he’s doing, and the “cut-to” scenes of — of what, exactly? — seem to have been flown in from a diaper commercial.
For me, this video was a major, major let-down. I know we’ve talked about “holy grail” audio pieces that have been revealed to suck upon actually hearing them for the first time; do any of you have any video let-downs as disappointing as this one?
I look forward to your responses — and I also attach a rare bit of TTD video that doesn’t suck to show you what I was hoping I’d discover, but didn’t.
HVB
I am severely challenged by matters of time and space—and even the thought of looking at a map makes me dizzy—but watching the video someone made of this excerpt from The Residents‘ Third Reich ‘n Roll got me thinking about rock’s coordinates, or maybe the term I’m seeking is polar forces. You know, all that stuff that has todo with latitude and longitude.
The Beatles and The Rolling Stones are not “opposed” to each other, in the negative connotation of that term, but they are clear points on rock ‘n roll’s map. The coordinates of our position relative to those points tells us something our about place in the rock universe, maybe even who we are.
I hope someone more geographically minded can make sense of what I’m getting at and smooth out what I know I’m getting at. When and if this makes sense, are their other pairs of artists that serve as rock’s coordinates?
Licks, faces, feel!
Don’t forget Bowie blows Ronson.
We’re not talking about 1-time stage moves, like Jimi Hendrix setting his guitar on fire or Pete Townshend‘s slide across the stage in The Kids Are Alright‘s live performance of “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” We’re looking to determine—once and for all—Rock’s Most Iconic Recurring Stage Move. What are the go-to stage moves that rock fans can count on, and what is the most iconic of those go-to stage moves?
Is that clear?
Examples of these iconic recurring stage moves and the RTH People’s Poll follow the jump. Your job is to determine—once and for all—the clear-cut answer to settle all heated barroom debates on the subject!
I am by no means the Hall’s expert on Kevin Ayers, but since he died recently and he is of interest to a few of my favorite Townspeople, relatively new and old, and since these very same folks have been chipping in their memories of enjoying the man’s music, let me open up a formal discussion for the benefit of those of you who know almost nothing about the guy and, even more so, for my own education.
I first came across Ayers in college through 2 sources. First, there was that June 1, 1974 album, which I hungrily borrowed from a friend for the chance to hear Eno, John Cale, and Nico in a band with Mike Oldfield (whose music I only knew through sneaking into my first R-rated movie, The Exorcist) and this Ayers guy, about whom I knew nothing. The album was OK, as I spun it over the next few days, trying like mad to get high enough to feel like it was great, but I returned it to my friend and never felt tempted to buy it for myself.
Next, over the last few weeks of my freshman year, I became friends with this tall, geeky, super-underground weirdo-prog guy, John. We initially bonded over artists like Captain Beefheart, the Velvet Underground, psychedelic Beatles, and King Crimson, the last of whom I’d recently been introduced to by another friend. He took this as a sign that I may be ready for exploring the deeper hippie-prog territory he specialized in, stuff like Henry Cow, Van Der Graaf Generator, and Gong. I wasn’t thrilled about all of those underground prog bands, but it was cool to hear new stuff and try to get a handle on this proto-Thurston Moore look-alike I’d suddenly befriended.
Earlier today our your friend and mine saturnismine hi-jacked my Facebook page to ask why he was unable to post the following image here in the Halls of Rock. Then another old friend, dbuskirk, took this opportunity to pile on, insulting our entire community with the following snide remark:
The Brain Police forbid The Dream Police.
I was hurt. Before I had a chance to look into sat’s sincere question dbuskirk has to shame me on my very own Facebook page. A lot of my inner self is expressed there. Here, in the Halls of Rock, you may fire away at me. Here, you will find the Public Me. On Facebook I bitch and moan about my favorite sports teams and the annoyance of seeing Lena Dunham pop up on every magazine and interview show I check out. That’s deep shit, man, and I don’t need to have my RTH moderation skills attacked in that forum!
As a show of just how big a man I am, the image that saturnismine wants you to see follows…after the jump!
