Posts Tagged ‘misfits’

I was going to write yet another thing about Halloween and then offer up a download of the song Halloween by the Misfits, but they are just one of those bands that I never bothered ripping the discs of when I got the new hard drive. I don’t know what happened. I used to love them, then one day I put on Walk Among Us and realized that two minute, four-chord retelling of B-grade horror movies just didn’t do it for me anymore.

This got me to thinking about bands I loved that just faded from my playlist for one reason or another. Sometimes you just grow tired of certain music. Sometimes you outgrow it. And sometimes there are extenuating circumstances that make you delete every folder containing a certain band from your hard drive. Which is a shame. As much as I used to love Faith No More – I was obsessed with them for years – I have such a hard time listening to them now because they remind me of things I don’t want to be reminded of. Where their entire catalog used to be a source of musical pleasure for me, they now remind me of lies and anger and empty promises and every time I try to enjoy Angel Dust again, I’m left with a taste of bitterness that hangs on the entire day.

Yet there are bands I loved that went through tough times with me that I stuck with. Maybe the years have taken the edge off the memories. I can bring out the entire Husker Du catalog without thinking about that messy breakup. I can listen to Black Flag’s Damaged without experiencing the ensuing black hole of depression that used to follow it. I didn’t lose all my good music just because I associate bands and songs with emotions. Maybe I shove them on the back burner for a while, but they come back.

Then there are those bands you just had enough of. I went through my regressive emo stage and I can really live without Taking Back Sunday now. And then there are the bands you once adored and you try to listen to their music now and your reaction is “what the hell was I thinking?” Did I once really think The Doors were anything more than dime store poetry sung by a man with a grand self-perception rivaled only by Jesus? Did I really have the cover to Yes’s Fragile painted on the back of my Levi jacket?

Another band that falls into that category, like the Misfits, is the Ramones.

Yes, I said it. The Ramones. It feels almost blasphemous to write that. A New Yorker who grew up in the 70’s and was around for beginning of that band’s rise to fame is done with them? I hear a collective gasp from the die hard Ramones fans I know. I know the way they think. They’ll hear me say something like this and come after me with pitchforks and torches, crying about my lost punk roots and how my cred is completely shot. So be it. I really don’t like you “punk lived and died in the 70’s” people, anyhow. Just for good measure, I’m going to tell you that I no longer listen to the Clash, either. It’s not that I threw alway all my punk records and gave up on the genre. I just stuck with the ones that stood my test of time. I’d rather listen to the Circle Jerks or 7 Seconds or Minor Threat all day than listen to the same song, different words from the Ramones.

There are tons of bands and whole genres that came and went in my life. Lots of bands that don’t matter, bands I forgot about, albums I wish I never spent money on. Your life changes, you grow up, move on, your tastes change. I still listen to a hell of a lot of the music I loved in my misspent youth. I love me some good, old fashioned metal and I’ll never tire of Pink Floyd.

It doesn’t bother me so much that my Misfits and Ramones CDs are going to collect dust now. What bothers me is when my music is taken from me through circumstances. Sure, they are self-made circumstances. There’s a reason I won’t listen to Stabbing Westward’s Darkest Days anymore and it has nothing to do with anything but me and my tendency to be overwrought in my wallowing. I’m not going to blame anyone but myself that I can’t listen to Faith No More or Nick Cave with the enjoyment I used to. Hopefully, like with Husker Du, I’ll get that musical pleasure back some day. As for the Doors and most of the Led Zeppelin catalog and Lynyrd Skynyrd, those phases are long gone and I don’t want them back.

I was supposed to be writing a Halloween thing here. Just another example of how my mind works at 5am. I’ll do the Halloween thing later.

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300 bands, 300 songs – (8)

Throwing one in while I have a few spare minutes.

8. Misfits – Some Kind of Hate
This one best exemplifies Danzig’s penchant for masturbating with his own voice. You won’t get this kind of “I’m a real singer, damn it, listen to me croooooooon” again until much later on (when he was solo) with You and Me (Less Than Zero). And I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing. Danzig was at his best when he was making sweet love to himself. Plus, you gotta dig the whole Phil Spector type music, as if the Ronnettes were suddenly going to bust out with maggots in the eye of love won’t copulate. (suggested by kali and cullen)

what this is about

I still need more band/artist suggestions – up to about 75 now, not including my own bands.

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the first in what will be an occasional series of tributes to my favorite movies.

Night of the Living Dead

Let’s start here by telling you that I really, really want to be a zombie some day. Some people want to be firemen, some people want to be rock stars, I want to be a zombie. I’m really rooting for this whole bird flu thing to take off in the hopes that it will end in zombie infestation and I can just give up my being to the flesh eaters. You think I’m fighting the undead? No way. Why fight off the zombies? Why spend days running from them, trying to fend them off, beating them, shooting them, cowering in fear in the basement (we don’t even have a basement) when eventually, they are going to win? Once the zombie infestation starts, that’s it. It’s assimilate or die. You can shoot as many brains as you want, but in the end, the undead will outnumber the living and you may as well just let them bite you early on rather than attempting to put up some brave and noble fight for survival.

Had they realized this in Night of the Living Dead, things would have worked out a lot differently. Maybe if Barbra and Johnny and Ben had a “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” philosophy, they could have avoided all that family-eating-family tragedy. No one wants to see that. Give yourself up at the start and you won’t find yourself staring down your zombified teenage daughter gnawing on her father.

Yes, I would give up that easily. What can I say? I’m a joiner. I follow trends, I don’t set them. It’s just so much easier to hold out your arms and accept what fate hands you than to fight it. It’s easier to convince yourself that being a zombie wouldn’t be so bad after all – no work, no taxes to pay, abundant food supply and, best of all, I could go on the hunt for people I hate and zombiefy them. How cool would it be to sink my undead teeth into Yngwie Malmsteem’s fleshy neck?

Anyhow, Night of the Living Dead. Yes, I know; social commentary, racism, class warfare, women are weak, blah blah blah. I’ve heard it all. But let’s get down to basics. It’s a zombie movie. People get eaten. Teeth are bared. Kids eat their parents. Brains explode. The living dead! Braaaaainnnnnnnssssss! Who the hell cares if George Romero was giving us a subtle lesson in social mores? There are zombies. And they’re coming to get you, Barbra!

For all I care the movie – and all Romero’s movies, really – could have contained within the dialogue the hidden codes to figuring out the order of the universe, the secret life of Jesus Christ, and how to get eternal life in Legend of Zelda and I still wouldn’t care. Well, maybe I’d care about the Zelda thing. Because eternal life would rule.

There’s not much to else say about Night of the Living Dead. It’s a classic. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t seen it. It paved the way for zillions of zombie movies after it. Without the cheesiness and stilted dialogue and awkward social commentary of Night of the Living Dead, we wouldn’t have Dawn of the Dead or Day of the Dead or Return of the Living Dead or even Shaun of the Dead. And then where would we be? If it weren’t for Romero, I would be just another aimless human being, a worker drone living out a meek existence just waiting for death to come take me away. But, no. I have a goal. I have a plan. I’m going to become a zombie someday! Come on, bird flu! Work your viral magic!

I can’t wait for the day I wake up only to find my children all bug eyed and bloody, arguing over the last piece of my neighbor’s leg. Then I’ll know I made it. I will walk out the door and down the street and look for the first large group of zombies I can find. they're coming to get you, barbara And then I’m going climb on top of the nearest building and do the most awesome stage dive ever right into the middle of that pack of living dead things, some Slayer song playing inside my head. Sure it might hurt at first. The flesh tearing thing probably isn’t a whole lot of fun. But in the end, I win. I get to be zombie.

We need to pay tribute, not really to this film, per se, but to the undead in general. How many Misfits songs would have gone unwritten if not for zombies? Would there be an Army of Darkness? A House of Dead game at your local arcade? See what I mean? Don’t mess with the zombies, man. They have added more to our culture than most Europeans.

Next time you’re enjoying brains for dinner or brains for lunch, give a little thanks to George Romero, ok?

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