VH-1 Classics
My latest DirecTV obsession is VH-1 Classics. Right now they have a show on called Metal Mania. Did you know Europe had another video, besides The Final Countdown? They do, I swear. It is called Superstitious. The premise being that they're not.
Anyway, that video segued to Mother, by Danzig. When I was a teenager I thought Danzig was just this dorky band that Dungeons and Dragons types listened to when they wanted to show they were tuff. (There's a difference between "tough" and "tuff." The Patriots defense is tough. The Pittsburgh Steelers yapping about how they're No. 1 in October, before they inevitably get waxed at home in the AFC title game, is tuff. Likewise, Slayer was tough; Danzig, tuff).
Then last year, Mother became Keith Foulke's entrance music and took on a whole new life. In fact, my new primary memory associated with Mother goes like this:
Last fall, I was living in the Fenway, about two blocks from the Park. I lived so close to Fenway that I actually had to shut the windows in my living room if I was watching the game at home, because the roar of the crowd would tip off what was about to happen before the image was transmitted over the television.
I was coming home on a game night, and of course found a parking spot about a 15-minute walk from my place. As I walked back to my apartment, I could hear Mother playing, off in the distance. So I knew Foulkie was coming on and the Sox were looking to close it down. About three minutes later, I heard a distinct groan from the crowd, followed by silence. Yup, Foulke coughed up the lead on a home run. If I remember correctly, the Sox won in I think the 12th on an Orlando Cabrera homer. That's what I think of when I hear Mother these days.
Whoa! Flight of Icarus by Iron Maiden is on. I didn't even know they had a video to this, and I watched Headbanger's Ball religiously as a kid, even when Adam Curry was hosting. This is your standard early-80s Rush-looking video with the band performing in the studio, looking earnest while they wear their headsets, with occasional cheezball special effects thrown in.
Holy crap ... the Vinnie Vincent Invasion! Where do they find these things? Vinnie Vincent got kicked out of Kiss, then subsequently was booted out the band named after him. That takes talent.
*This music talk leads me to this week's Dave's World contest: Who was the worst metal band of the 1980s, and why? Free prize of negligible value to the winner.
*This also gives me the chance to flagrantly name-drop and plug a friend. When I was a teenager, I took drum lessons in Quincy, MA, and was taught by a genius named John Horrigan (I'm not being sarcastic -- that guy is just the mad scientist of percussion). God bless my parents for putting up with it. A friend of mine, Jay Costa, also took lessons under John. I went so far as to play in a couple bands before giving it up to pursue journalism full-time, but Jay never stopped, and now his band Diecast is going strong as they launch another U.S. tour next month. Check out their website if you're into metal or hardcore-type music.
*I have this longstanding, mean-spirited game with my friend NGD. If we're ever out anywhere and see someone wearing a truly hideous piece of clothing, it is a race to see who first whispers "dude ... that guy stole your pink shirt!" (or plaid pants, or flower-print shorts, or whatever the offending clothing might be). I was in downtown Seattle last night and saw a plus-plus-plus-sized individual wearing a shirt that read "Cats ... you can't have just one!!!" with about 40 cats all over the shirt. If NGD was with me, I definitely would have insinuated this person lifted the shirt from him.
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