The Bridge

I first heard the Chili Peppers on the radio. Local Harrisburg classic rock radio. 1991. "Under the Bridge". Yes, I was late to the game. But that didn't change my appreciation of its epic and accessible sadness. I listened. I became one with the elaborate but understanding bass line. The siren song of the call- and-response chorus sucked me in. I got it. I really did.

So when a high school classmate condescendingly asked "You know that song's about heroin, right?" I realized that I didn't really get it. This whole alt universe was new to me; I knew something outside my small-town world existed and I wanted to be there. Outside Harrisburg, and outside classic rock and into the libidinous world of college, edginess, and the big city. That was what I saw in "Under the Bridge", Nirvana, and anything else alt that snuck into my small world. Lyrics be damned.

My time was coming. Everything was set. My senior football year had just ended and I was scheduled to take a recruiting trip to Georgetown University. My nervousness was off the charts. What had I gotten myself into? The drinking, the girls, the big city, the alt-ness. Every part of me knew that I wasn't ready.

When I crossed the Key Bridge I saw the hilltop campus. It looked like a scary impenetrable fortress. The sky had a greenish-navy glow that spoke of doom. The parking lot I pulled into was nearly empty. There were no signs of life. No students. Just drifting leaves and the harsh glow of the parking lot lighting. I parked outside the McDonough Gym, the place where I was to meet the coaches, even more scared and more out-of-place than when I had left home.

I took a deep breath and headed up to the building's massive front doors. I gave a big tug. They were locked. I walked around the building. Lights all off. Every single door locked. I was all alone. A cold short lonely walk into campus revealed no more students. Everyone was gone. It was their winter break. The coaches had confused the dates. From a pay phone I contacted the necessaries (coach and parents) and decided to drive the two hours back home.

When I crossed the Key Bridge again "Under the Bridge" came on the radio and this time I really got it. click here to
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Young, Dumb, and Full of Red Hot Chili Peppers

The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Blood Sugar Sex Magik reminds me of U2’s Joshua Tree, not just in how these albums brought these already popular bands into the forefront of pop-cultural awareness, but also in how these albums let me down and proved to be the last albums that I would ever buy from either band.

Although I have found it nearly impossible to appreciate the post-superstardom work of either group, when I consider how enormously successful their careers have been since then, I realize that I probably should not hold it against either of them. Apparently, what really worked for them and most of their fans is precisely what doesn’t work for me.

So what went wrong?

For me and U2, it’s cut-and-dried: I don’t like the songs on The Joshua Tree; they don’t move or impress me, plus the production, despite the involvement of the genius Eno and the talented Lanois, makes everything sound washed out and dreary--just a few too many repeats and a touch too much reverb on the Edge throughout the album, I’m afraid. On the other hand, I share a more complicated relationship with Blood Sugar Sex Magik. There are some great songs on this album, and Rick Rubin’s production shines, really bringing out the best in every member of the band.

So what’s there not to like? Well, the major problem with Blood Sugar Sex Magik lies in the fact that it is just too damn long with too much filler. Pare it down to the essentials, and then you’d have one hell of an album:

Ditch the drab, mid-tempo “Funky Monks”. “Mellowship Slinky in B Major” is neither funky or punky enough to work for RHCP and just comes off as a lame attempt at hip hop, so we don’t need it on this “great” album. “The Righteous & The Wicked” is just Chili Peppers by numbers, and this band needs energy above all to be convincing, so this is a prime example of the chaff dragging this album down. Say “goodbye” to “The Greeting Song”, a weak riff on the same silliness that works so well on “Give it Away” but not here. Lose the pointless and terrible cover of “They’re Red Hot”, ‘cause when your cover can’t match the fun sexiness of an ancient, scratchy blues recording and “fun sexiness” is pretty much your whole game, you’ve obviously made a bad decision.

This leaves us with:

1. The Power of Equality. 2. If You Have to Ask. 3. Breaking the Girl. 4. Suck My Kiss 5. I Could Have Lied. 6. Give It Away. 7. Blood Sugar Sex Magic. 8. Under the Bridge. 9. Naked in the Rain. 10. Apache Rose Peacock. 11. My Lovely Man. 12. Sir Psycho Sexy.

That’s twelve strong songs culminating in the sickness of “Sir Psycho Sexy”! I never could wrap my head around Blood Sugar Sex Magik enough to really love it, but that looks like an album that would have blown my mind. Put the rest on an EP with “Soul to Squeeze”, and that would have sold millions, too. click here to
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I CAN Live Without My Radio

It was a warm spring evening about nine years ago. I was in New York City on a date with the woman that would eventually become my wife. We were walking around Times Square in an attempt to try and find a good restaurant (something that I find to be surprisingly difficult in New York City).

The streets were crowded with tourists. As you walked towards an intersection you would begin to stand in a herd of people while everyone waitied for the beacon of safety known as the "Walk" sign.

As I walked across the street I was looking around. Instead of gazing up at the neon signs and flashing billboards I caught myself looking over at a flashy SUV that was caught at the red light. It was an immaculate black SUV which simply looked expensive.

As I walked closer I looked into the passenger seat. The window was open and the passenger was sitting with one arm hanging out the window. He was wearing sunglasses at night, which is always something that stands out to me.

Once I was within reach of the car I noticed that the passenger was LL Cool J. I was a fan of his music, but I do not think that I ever owned any of his albums. I liked his video for 'Doin' It', but that had nothing to do with him or his music. AS I stood there I realized that seeing LL Cool J was mildly interesting, but it simply did not call out to me or get me excited in any way.

I stood still for a moment in the middle of the crosswalk. LL Cool J slowly looked over at me and smiled. It was clear that I was the only person in the crosswalk that had noticed him. I could not quite tell if he smiled because someone finally recognized him or if he was simply entertained by seeing a goofy white dude staring at him.

After a brief pause I simply yelled out: "Hey, it's LL Cool J!". These simple words somehow broke through all of the commotion of New York City. The energy of the crowd completely shifted as everyone looked around. Moments later some girls could be heard shrieking. As I continued on my way to find dinner the beautiful new SUV was surrounded by a crowd of tourists as people all reached into the car to try and touch the celebrity that stood before them. The light turned green and it took a few moments for the crowd to clear enough room for LL Cool J to move on with his night.

The experience was enough to put a smile on my face. It also created a fun little story that I get to share with you today. I guess this also helps to describe how I feel about the three albums we are discussing this week. I can't get too excited about any of these albums. They are all by pretty good artists. They all contain some pretty good songs. They all fail to leave me with any type of lasting impression. They are all good enough that I would be able to recognize them, but I would just as soon let other people share their own excitement about these works. I would rather simply continue on my way and continue my quest to find a good restaurant in New York City.

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Hip Hop Lives in Our Memory

LL Cool J was 16 years old when he recorded Radio. But when we listen to the album aren't we all?

I first heard Radio when I was 13. Just one of a number of hip hop tapes providing background music in my next door neighbor's basement during epic battles of Double Dribble and Mike Tyson's Punch Out. It wasn't Radio in particular but this exciting music, hip hop, made me feel older. Maybe not quite 16 but not a mere 13.

This new music was ours. It wasn't made for our parents or our teachers. It was made for us. For our pleasure and for our fun. We knew that they didn't "get it". Sure, they might try to listen and see what this new rage was but they never stayed. They would never put our tapes in when we weren't there. They could never understand. Just like our Nintendo. It was a separation that I cherished.

So when I listened to Radio again I was overjoyed to hear LL's youthful defiance and his charming innocence. Overjoyed because I wasn't sure it was going to be there.

It's been a 20 years since 1987. LL's had dozens of feature films, a sitcom, a workout book, and like three greatest hits albums.

Was my memory of a furious sucker-MC-stomping rhymer accurate? A teenager so angry at the status quo, at pop music, that the targets of his lead single weren't other rappers but Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, Prince, and Michael Jackson. Musicians that adults listened to and understood; music that was played on the radio.

Of course that's the irony of the album's title: in 1986 hip hop wasn't played on the radio. OK, maybe it was played in New York late at night and in other cities on small AM stations, like LA and even Harrisburg!, but that was it. Heck, pulling in the Harrisburg station was so difficult that I never even tried.

Back in 1987 the words "Hip Hop Lives" were graffitied on a brick wall that faced the Harrisburg midget football practice field. Our team practiced there once daylight savings ended; they had lights. The graffiti was so declarative but at the same time so desperate and defiant. It screamed that hip hop was not a fad and would never die out. But at the same time only those in the know would ever understand.

It didn't turn out that way. In fact it was going to be just like rock and roll. Yes, I had just seen La Bamba, Peggy Sue Got Married, Back to the Future. They were just out on VHS. Their parents didn't get rock and roll either. They said it would die. It didn't.

Now hip hop is everywhere. And so is LL. When you listen to Radio you know it's LL just like you know it's hip hop. LL's rhyme flow and voice are still shockingly similar. It's the same inflections that same cockiness and the same self-assuredness. The rhyme subject matter is a different story. On Radio he's so young and so innocent so sweet and just a little bit corny. His rhymes could only come from a 16-year-old...in 1986. There's no cursing and the malice is playful. Not that LL ever changed, he just grew up. Just like hip hop.

In 2007 LL's album title, Radio, is no longer ironic it's anachronistic. The boombox has become a dinosaur and FM radio is close behind. Hip hop isn't a music of defiance and youth, it's the stuff of McDonalds commercials and big business. I can't hate the route LL and hip hop took; it was only natural. I'm just happy I can cue up my mp3 player, hear the booming bass of "Rock the Bells", and be instantly transported to my neighbor's basement, his Nintendo, and a welcome generation gap. click here to
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Tunnel of Love

Tunnel of Love, Bruce Springsteen, Rolling Stone Magazine's #475

exile staff consensus: Top 1000 album

the breakdown:
1.5 cannons - , venerableseed, polchic, and eurowags
1.0 cannon - lenbarker and the angryyoungman

the essays:
11/15 @ 1:00 p.m. - Eurowags captures the general malaise all but one of us have had regarding Tunnel of Love. We all really wanted to like it; we really did.

11/13 @ 8:00 a.m. - It seems there is someone else who is not enamored by Tunnel of Love; the album is too reminiscent of the Colonial Park Mall food court.

11/11 - A dissenting view from Len Barker. If he didn't like Tunnel of Love than what will he say about Don Henley's contribution. We shudder to think.

11/9 - Jahidi Hoya counters the doubts (but then adds to them in the comment section of post 1!). Oh, Julianne, poor Julianne.

11/9 - In our last poll, Bowie beat Bruce by a 2 to 1 count. Anglophiles all of you! We now have two retrospective poll on the albums listened to thus far. One question positive one negative. Just look to your right and vote.

11/8 - I'm up first, wondering about the veracity of Bruce's personal Tunnel of Love. (Note that in less than 14 hours! Springsteen's diligent cyber-sleuths found and removed the embedded Tunnel of Love music video from this site. If you wish to watch the video follow this link to youtube.)

the introduction (done with Don Henley's End of the Innocence):
It's 1985 and two 70's classic rock heroes had just found staggering success on the MTV and with a new generation of fans.

Bruce Springsteen's Born in the U.S.A. and its remarkable string of seven top 10 singles were ubiquitous on radio and television.

Don Henley's single, Boys of Summer, seemed to usher in an era of artistry to the fledgling video network. Its constant play and VMA Video of the Year only cemented this fact. So how did our heroes respond?

Both released albums adored by critics but met with modest comparative commercial success. Springsteen strayed from his usual themes of social and political despair and moved onto a personal vision of love while Henley moved away from love and towards a message of political and social despair. Neither recorded their next album with their familiar band; Bruce's minimalist tracks featured few E-Streeters and Don continued Eagle-less (but not Axl-less) for at least the time being.

But most importantly, on their album cover both artists beckon the listener longingly with steely glares, "I'm the more sensitive one." "No, I'M the more sensitive one!" Do we still like these albums? Or better yet, which one is the most sensitive.

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The End of the Innocence

The End of the Innocence, Don Henley, Rolling Stone Magazine's #389

exile staff consensus: Why is this on the list?

the breakdown:
1.5 cannons - angryyoungman
1.0 cannon - polchic, lenbarker, venerableseed, and eurowags

the essays:
11/19 @ 9:00 a.m. - Hold up. Wait a minute. Just when you thought it was over Len lends us another fitting tribute to the end of The End of the Innocence. Can he bring himself to listen to the album? Let's see.

11/17 @ 9:00 a.m. - A Don Henley supporter? Amazing! Even more amazing is that someone named the Angry Young Man is calling for an end to the hate.

11/14 @ 9:00 a.m. - Is this the end of The End of the Innocence? It's hard to believe how much discussion old Don has stirred up and at this point my post just feels like piling on.

11/13 @ 2:00 p.m. - The Ancient Scientist gives The End of the Innocence its just due.

11/12 @ 1:00 p.m. - Jahidi Hoya discusses his many memorable Don Henley concerts.

11/12 @ 8:00 a.m. - Newcomer JB is the first to capture the essence of the Walden Pond warrior's most acclaimed album.

the introduction (done with Bruce Springsteen's Tunnel of Love):
It's 1985 and two 70's classic rock heroes had just found staggering success on the MTV and with a new generation of fans.

Bruce Springsteen's Born in the U.S.A. and its remarkable string of seven top 10 singles were ubiquitous on radio and television.

Don Henley's single, Boys of Summer, seemed to usher in an era of artistry to the fledgling video network. Its constant play and VMA Video of the Year only cemented this fact. So how did our heroes respond?

Both released albums adored by critics but met with modest comparative commercial success. Springsteen strayed from his usual themes of social and political despair and moved onto a personal vision of love while Henley moved away from love and towards a message of political and social despair. Neither recorded their next album with their familiar band; Bruce's minimalist tracks featured few E-Streeters and Don continued Eagle-less (but not Axl-less) for at least the time being.

But most importantly, on their album cover both artists beckon the listener longingly with steely glares, "I'm the more sensitive one." "No, I'M the more sensitive one!" Do we still like these albums? Or better yet, which one is the most sensitive.

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Dan Henley & Pat Nebatar

I can relate to JB’s post on Don Henley’s End of the Innocence and how his pop culture point of reference to Walden has shifted from that album to Eric Cartman and South Park. I have long been unable to think of Don Henley without recalling a Beavis and Butthead episode in which they watched one of his videos, referring to him as “Dan” Henley throughout and discussing his legal problems due to molestation charges* and how those troubles had led to the break up of his marriage to Pat “Nebatar”. And I don’t feel bad about that, because that’s about how much respect I have for Dan.

The first and only time that I have ever heard this album was at summer camp, somewhere between ’89 and ’92. Some of my fellow counselors introduced me to some great bands over the years, but other guys listened to some real crap in the shack where we used to hang out. As you may have guessed, I would place this album in that latter category. In fact, it may have been the single worst album that anybody dared to play on that shared jam box for all four of those summers. It somehow manages to stand out in my mind as being even worse than M.C. Hammer’s Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em or Aerosmith’s Pump, both of which were both played ad nauseam. I remember being astonished when my fellow counselor played End of the Innocence, because I was unable to find any redeeming qualities. It was simultaneously too stale to be exciting, too predictable and stupid to be intriguing, and too trite to be moving.

In the process of reviewing albums for this blog, I have tried to re-listen to all of them in order to refresh my memory and perspective, but I cannot bring myself to listen to this POS again. This fact, that I cannot summon the strength to listen to this thing again after not having heard it for between 15 and 18 years, has me hoping that this is the worst album on Rolling Stone’s list.

I’m rethinking that statement about how much respect I have for Dan, because it makes it sound like I consider him to be on the same level as Beavis and Butthead and South Park, when I actually hold those cartoons in substantially higher esteem than I do him.

* See jahidi hoya’s response to Ancient Scientist’s review for elaboration; I had never gotten the reference but found it funny anyway, so it was great to learn the story behind it. click here to
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