Vrabel: I have a buddy who’s a big Asia fan. And every single time my buddy who’s an Asia fan tells me he’s an Asia fan, I bring up “Heat of the Moment,” and he calls me a dirty name, and we stare at each other in strained silence for 15 minutes. “Heat of the Moment” is like Kryptonite to prog fans. I call it the “57 Channels and Nothin’ On” Theory.

Ken: I don’t like prog. I don’t like ’80s music (what on earth am I doing at Popdose?). From a brief look at the video, no one in the band has a mullet. I’m willing to give them points for that, and only that.

Beau: Funny, I just covered this one. Basically, it’s terrific prog-rock playing distilled into a palatable pop-rock song. But oy, those lyrics. John, when her looks have gone and she’s alone, she’s still going to be blocking your calls.

Zack: It seems like something of a guilty pleasure, but I actually can’t resist the epic quality of this song’s opening. The video, on the other hand, sucks. Aside from using the same damn effect for the entire video, couldn’t they at least have changed the direction of the screen transitions? Once we get away from the intro, I find the song fair to middling. Nothing special, and it looks like we’re in for some much worse “music” this week. (more…)

So, where did we leave off last week? That’s right, the kid finally got some cash money. It’s 1999, and I’m in my fifth year at the beautiful College of New Jersey. All that matters to me at the time is my radio gig at the campus station (and getting more music for it). After months of going to the used CD store and picking up greatest-hits and compilation discs for $7 each, I set a goal for myself. I was going to collect every single song that hit the top 40 in the ‘80s. Little did I know what I was getting myself into.

The day was a great one. It marked my first purchase of one of the music bibles — Joel Whitburn’s Billboard Top 40 book. Today I sit here with eight of them right next to me, but back then, it was all about that one glorious book. I collected my Def Leppard and my Men at Work, but I quickly found out that the stuff that really interested me the most were the songs I hadn’t heard before. And then I realized that if I wanted to get the majority of songs in the early ‘80s, I’d have to start buying records. That’s when the collection exploded.

If you are ever near Princeton, NJ, you have to stop by the Princeton Record Exchange. It is a glorious music store. They sell a lot of DVDs today, which cuts down on the record stock, but eight or nine years ago they had a billion LPs for just a dollar. For a college student starting on a new quest, working two jobs to get by, the dollar record was the greatest thing ever. And the dollar record was my downfall into uber-geekdom.

We’ll continue talking about the steps towards my first goal, next week. But now, I present to you the final “A” artists to hit from 41-100 on the Billboard Hot 100 charts.

Ashford & Simpson
“Street Corner” — 1982, #56 (download)
“Count Your Blessings” — 1986, #84 (download)

You could point to their song “Solid” as the defining moment of their career as singers, and you certainly say their career is defined by writing classic songs such as “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” or “You’re All I Need to Get By,” but personally, I think they defined themselves every morning when Nickolas Ashford woke up and put the sheen in his hair. I can just picture being around Ashford in a recording booth. Every time he shakes his head you get just a bit more hair juice in your eye.

Neither of the songs we’re talking about today are “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing,” but they do fit in decently with the decade. “Street Corner” is the better of the two songs, a nice little slab of pop-funk. “Count Your Blessings” is the last song of Nick and Valerie’s to chart and seems like it would’ve been better in 1981.

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As of this writing it is the wrinkly end to the middle of March (the 21st, for those who hate metaphor) and rumor and tempers are rumbling in the camp of Velvet Revolver. Yes indeed, Velvet Revolver, that bastion of rock ‘n’ roll dedicated to the pursuit of … well, the pursuit of … uh … you know, I’m not really sure what they’re in pursuit of. Slash isn’t hurting for cash, as I’m sure he’s getting a little money out of his Guns ‘N’ Roses tenure. Surely someone distracts Axl with a hunk of chum on a dangling string while someone else spirits away the rest of the band’s dues. And even if that wasn’t so, he must have some kind of back end for his Guitar Hero appearances. Lead singer Scott Weiland, fresh from his zilteenth rehab stint, couldn’t possibly have gotten so ripped that all his funds are gone. Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum shouldn’t be hurting either, so the only victim may be Dave Kushner (who?) and perhaps anyone who spent money on the band’s last bland effort Libertad. The most interesting track on the album (a cover of E.L.O.’s “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head”) wasn’t even theirs, and was interesting only because someone, presumably Weiland, thought it would be brilliant to change most of the lyrics. That alone should have been an indicator that someone wasn’t thinking this outing through clearly.

So here is a band that really has nothing to prove and nothing to earn. Their mutual pedigree has afforded them an instant audience that they only marginally honored with the Contraband debut. And there’s no reason that there should be friction since there’s really no pressure here, right? Aside from the crushing weight of massive ego threatening to obliterate anything that should crawl beneath it. We can’t forget that. Weiland’s slagging off Sorum who, apparently, wanted to sing along. Weiland’s argument: hey, I’m the singer, drummer boy! Yes, he is. He’s the singer. He’s also the unreliable frontman who has derailed many a plan with his addictions. In his defense, addiction to anything is a hard fight, relapses are considered probable and not merely possible and no one has a right to take up arms against someone who is trying to stay clean. By the same token, that person trying to stay clean must be humble enough to recognize the damage his actions have done, not castigate others to deflect the burden of guilt.

I actually called it back in October when the sales figures for Libertad started coming in, tellingly on the low end of expectations. Weiland was intimating that a Stone Temple Pilots reunion was imminent and the rest of VR seemed conspicuously absent. I said that it appeared a collapse of Audioslave proportions was on the horizon. Sadly, I was right — for you see, dear reader, I was actually pulling for Velvet Revolver to buck the trend. Sure, their music never truly rose from the uncomfortable mash-up of GNR and STP, but it wasn’t like they had a talent deficit if they tried. I don’t think they tried. As I said previously, they milked the inheritance they had and that was that. When Audioslave splintered, we got Chris Cornell farting up a brown funk and calling it fresh baked cookies and (yuck) Rage Against the Machine reunited. (more…)