Wednesday Music Meltdown: further proof that Hannah Montana is dead.
… then watch this.
It’s been a while since ol’ Frankie passed.
In my youth, I’ve seen Teenage Head 3 times. All of them at Larry’s Hideaway.
The Head back in the day was all rock, all roll, zero bullshit and all balls.
They looked and sounded like this…
Some people would either call them punk, new wave, rock or a combination of any 2 or all 3.
But they were never metal, besides their hair.
It was at a time when people never gave a fuck about focus groups and demographics - if someone had a guitar and riffs, you would bet that this person better goddamn would know how to deliver.
Of course, The Head is still around playing the nostalgia circuit around Southern Ontario. But in my mind, they will always be in the 80s for me.
Taking a break from my job hunt, I decided to check out some of the offerings from YouTube, including a live performance from Tom Waits in the 70s.
While waiting for a video from Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds to show up, this advert showed up…
We know that it all involves some string and a bit of dexterity, but I bet that if done properly, one can dazzle and baffle anyone regardless of level of sobriety.
Which is to say that the Phantom Saucer will be enjoyable for all of 30 seconds or less. Or as long as someone could stay un-sober.
And now for your musical guilty pleasures, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds…
I’m back with yet another one of my meltdowns after 2 weeks in my home and native Toronto.
To say that the stay was a clusterfuck of emotions is just putting it too kindly. To see most of my friends (at least the closest ones) looking the same after entering the middle ages made me realize that those of us born in the 60s had the best in health, education and upbringing. Or at least that has been my understanding.
When I got to Pearson International Airport last night, I tried to sleep in the huge Terminal 1 departure lounge. However, the Tim Horton’s dark-roasted coffee that I had on arrival had left me quite wired to the nines. So I spent the next few hours wandering, having a smoke and wandering some more until boarding time. I had a better seat on the 2-hour flight back and I simply chilled to some of Bizet’s best symphonic works.
After doing some banking and making some calls, I crashed out at my crib. I got on Facebook to catch up on some of the gossip when I found out in my trending feed that Joan Rivers had passed after falling into a coma during throat surgery.
I wouldn’t say that I was shocked, but I was still saddened. She had lived a long, productive life and maintained her razor-sharp wit and tongue well into her senior years. She’s only 2 years older than my Mom, which had me pondering about her well-being during and after my stay at her place. I’ve made peace with her and myself to accept the eventual loss.
But as with all my meltdowns, I lighten things up with a video.
And my impression of the new Thornhill after 9 years of absence? I can sum it up with a quote from the Aqua Teen Hunger Force movie: “My father built this castle. He said that Weirds would live here for a thousand years… and now it’s being turned into fucking lofts!”
More on that later.