I was too young to experience many of the groups and performers featured here when they were in their prime. Sure, I heard the music of Led Zep, Dylan, the Rolling Stones, the Who, et al growing up, but I didn’t own any of their albums until the ’80s when I starting my serious record collecting phase — which tends to happen when you get older and get a job.
Musicians, like everyone else without a trust fund, have to make a living, too — even those who made millions in the ’60s and ’70s. By the late ’70s/early ’80s, many “older” rockers tried to stay relevant by incorporating stylistic flourishes that later became known as New Wave. New Wave often (though not always) meant that that soulless contraption known as the synthesizer would find a way to weave itself into the fabric of a song. Sometimes having synth sounds or electronic drums would be great; other times it would miss the mark and sound kind of, well, crappy. Whatever the case, here are six songs from very well known artists whose music was caressed by “The New Wave Effect.” (more…)
Who knows how Uncle Donnie gets to know someone like Michael Stipe well enough to receive the gift of dishware from him? Granted, these are strange times in which we live, so finding something like this in the memo stack was not entirely a surprise, though Mike Mills and Peter Buck might not be too happy with U.D.’s nicknames for them. —RS
TO: Michael Stipe
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice
Mike, thanks so much for the Basquiat dinner plates. Nothing like getting to the bottom of one of Mitzi’s casseroles and seeing a neo-Expressionist skull staring back at me. We’d have you over for dinner, but I know you’re a vegetarian, and she puts beef broth in everything (makes for an interesting apple pie, let me tell you).
Mike, I know you and the boys got a bit of a bump in popularity last year, with the Accelerate album and the return to rocking out and such and so forth. You’re at your best when you and the nerdy one let the schlubby one turn up his amps and blow a hole through whatever wall happens to be nearby. Don’t get me wrong—I actually liked Around the Sun (leaving New York is never easy, but there’s so much more of the country to see) and Up. To my ears, Reveal is the only truly crap record you guys have made. Man, did that stink. I mean, no redeeming qualities whatsoever, aside from maybe—maybe—“Imitation of Life,” but that got old pretty quickly. You guys dropped a turd on that one. Most bands don’t recover from something that rank.
Which is why you should look out for yourself more, for your own career, your own life apart from the nerdy one and the schlubby one. I’ve got some ideas you might want to consider:
Go nuts. You’re a dignified, middle aged man with intellectual, political, and artistic pursuits beyond the music you are best known for. You appreciate privacy and go to some lengths to protect it. You support worthy people and worthier causes. Mike, it’s a wonder anyone knows who the hell you are. You need to pull a Britney. Or an Amy Winehouse. Go out for a night on the town without any underwear … or pants. Or put on the underwear, smoke five or six pounds of crack, and go wandering down the street on a crying jag. Better yet, get fat, take steroids, get plastic surgery to the point where you’re barely recognizable, take in a bunch of stray dogs, and do a lot of interviews about how you’ve hit rock bottom and are now bouncing back. It worked for Mickey Rourke—he even got an Oscar nomination. Speaking of which …
Become an actor. They’re actually making a remake of The Three Stooges, with Jim-friggin’-Carey as Curly. Michael, you were born for that role. It’s totally playing against type (unless Curly was really a shy, mumbling alternative type and we just didn’t know it), which is why you’ll blow everyone away with your “Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk-nyuks” and your “Whoop-whoop-whoops” and you “Oh, wiseguys.” Forget that whole movie producer thing, Mike. You were born to be in front of the camera. Acting like Curly Stooge.
Two words: Food Network.You and Mario Batali were so awesome together on that Sundance show. The two of you need to do a cooking show together—Mike and Mario’s Vegetarian Kitchen or some such thing. It’ll knock that conniving bitch Paula Deen right off the network.
Fake your death. There’d be a state funeral in Georgia. Flags at half-staff at the next Lollapalooza show. Courtney Love might write a song for you (or get Billy Corgan to do it and say she wrote it). Rolling Stone would put you on the cover and give every album five stars in the next Record Guide (including Reveal, which really was a turd, Mike). Warners might actually earn back some of your advance from the last REM contract. And you—you get to disappear, find a little place on the beach somewhere and live out your days listening to Patti Smith bootlegs and reading Rene Ricard collections to your heart’s content. Sound good? I knew it would.
A couple months ago, Jeff mentioned to me that he was thinking of putting together the Ultimate Drinking Mixtape in time for St. Patrick’s Day. I got so excited that I persuaded him to immediately open the floor to suggestions from the Popdose writers. And the song requests flowed in.
As the resident souse of the Popdose staff, I felt it was my responsibility to filter through the ideas that emerged and weave them together into something slightly more coherent than the drunken rantings I’d occasionally find typed out on my computer during the extensive beta-testing process. Later, during gamma-testing, the songs started to find their ways into groups. Finally, when I reached the delta-testing phase, things had been organized into chapters that celebrate the many different aspects of that delightful elixir that can lift or lower our spirits, make us in turn beautiful or ugly, and loosen or tangle our tongues with equal abandon.
Here’s the full tape – 116 minutes of pure malt goodness, with some wonderful words of wisdom sprinkled in. Just add liquor.
So you say that your finances are under more pressure than Rod Blagojevich and you still have gifts to buy for the holidays? Join the club. When you think about it, books make a really sensible gift. In addition to providing hours of pleasure for your loved ones, they cost very little in the scheme of things, and with online discounters like Amazon offering free shipping for orders over $25, well, it’s somewhat of a no-brainer. I completed most of my list last week by spending less than ten minutes online, and the order arrived at my door two days later. No malls. No lines. No parking nightmares.
This year there are a lot of good book options for the music lovers in your life. None of the books that appear here cost more than $30 on Amazon, and most are considerably less expensive. There are coffee table books, and interesting biographies. Know someone who is not that interested in music? I’ve provided some good choices for them as well, with a couple of excellent novels, a wise and witty look at the first colonists of this country, and a biography of one of the pre-eminent journalists of the last half-century.
The books are listed in order of genre, not preference. Without further ado, here are my gift choices.
It’s good to have friends, and Q has a lot of them. Before his own recollections even begin, there are introductory valedictories from the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Bono, Clint Eastwood, and Maya Angelou. This beautifully put together volume provides extraordinary access to a man who has been at the forefront of the music business for decades, working with everyone from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson. There are private notebooks, correspondence, and photographs, along with reproductions of report cards, track sheets, and accounting ledgers. (more…)
Mike, thanks so much for the 
