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Pissed!

Understand By Me

By Johnny Angel

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . the concept of "soft rock." All dreary, keyboard-laden balladry and woozy schlock--it isn't rock music at all. Try calling it "somnambulance for lightweights" instead of "soft rock," okay?

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . actors who make singer/songwriter recordings and expect to be taken seriously, e.g. Johnny Depp and his new CD, P. Lemme see if I got this right: Musicians either write or interpret pieces of music, attempting to place an indelibly personal stamp on everything they do. Actors read lines that were written for them to speak, are told where and how to stand by a director, and have to assume the role of another person to be considered a viable commodity. Aren't these opposites?

If I live to be 100 years old I'll never understand. . . the idea that after your career has gone kerblooie here in the good old USA, you can expect to ride your popularity forever in Europe. What was that about "Music is the universal language"? Or is it more like, "Here you are a disposable item like a toothbrush or a roll of toilet paper, we have new icons to drool after, your 15 seconds are up, go away." In Europe, it's like, "Ah, yes, always loved those songs." Who do you think has it better?

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . the maxim that states that "Youth is an integral part of the vitality that it takes to make exciting rock & roll." One word, guys: "Silverchair." Nuff said.

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . John Tesh.

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . consumers who purchase singles with nine remixes of the same song. I mean, a DJ, sure, but for anyone else--nine versions of the same thing?

If I live to be 100 years old, I'll never understand. . . the upcoming summer '96 reunion tour of the Sex Pistols. Sure, they are obviously doing it for the money (how many royalties are there from one record ?). That part I get. But the pay had better be awfully good for John Lydon--nothing he says in the future can possibly carry any validity after this nostalgia-twang/freak show. To see four 40-year-olds hacking incompetently through teen anthems that hold no meaning to them or us can only be majorly depressing. It's almost like going out onstage with a bull's-eye painted on your forehead, with a T-shirt that says "Slag Me" on the front.

If you lived to be 100. . .

Check out the Johnny Angel Web site.

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