Category Archives: Epic white men

Black Sabbath Vol. 4 (Vertigo, 1972)

Recorded during the sweaty summer of ’72, this album is about George Carlin’s arrest, las manos de Duran, the band’s crippling fear that the finished product would be compared to Led Zep IV, Kareem being a dutiful soldier on the Bucks but longing to come to the coast, Stevie Wonder absolutely ruling, Angela Davis’ acquittal, rotted garbage-person Phyllis Schlafly successfully defeating the Civil Rights Amendment so she could have more time to make her husband a sandwich and tend to the children I guess, Lucky Scott being the overlooked actual backbone of the Super Fly soundtrack, Ziggy playing for time jiving us that we were voodoo, and the sweat coming down Jesse Jackson’s face at Wattstax cuz friends what time is it? NATION TIME.

JK this album is about sweet sweet cocaine.

Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Blood & Chocolate (Demon/Columbia, 1986)

Blood and Chocolate


Bruce Springsteen, Darkness on the Edge of Town (Columbia, 1978)


Chris Christie continues his clueless public fellating of The BOSSSSSSSS while remaining completely unaware that he is the villain of every song by The Boss, closing factories and forbidding his daughter to date the kid from the poor family and calling the Trenton PD to do a sweep of the homeless encampment down under the bridge. QUIT SHOWING UP IN GOOGLE SEARCHES OF “BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN,” JERKOFF.

Frank Zappa/Captain Beefheart/The Mothers, Bongo Fury (DiscReet, 1975)

Zappa Beefheart Mothers

“And I wanna tell ya, if there is anybody here who doesn’t believe that it is fuckin great to be alive, I wish they would go now, because this show will bring them down so much.”

Guys my first stunt for ’15 is an A-to-Z cover series, one per day, starting today. Z is, of course, for ZAPPA (with Captain Beefheart & the Mothers).


Gram Parsons, GP (Reprise, 1973)

GP 1

15-year-old me was heavily into eyeliner, Howard Zinn, and magnetic sad boys who’d never treat me right but would never bore me. My little brother was almost named Gram, though, so this tendency isn’t completely my fault; hips aren’t the only thing I inherited from my mom, youfeelme.

I’ve since come to my senses and stopped being a jerk – fetishizing fucked-up brain chemistry/sorrow is just a gross thing to do – but my fondness for Gram remains and I’ll prove it by singing every goddamn word on all of his records and wearing his name on my chest. (Thank you, Worn Free!)

PS, fun fact: it turns out EVERY song called “A Song for You” makes me break down and cry.



The shit’s chess; it ain’t checkers.

Baddest dude in a wheelchair since Ron Kovic and Snoop the non-crack-slanger in Training Day (he’s on Disability, man).

This might get me an annoyed email or two from religious boys who like rap music and skinny girls in bathing suits, but if that is you our love affair was not meant to be. Stay away from me; I’m trouble. “We should seek the greatest value of our action,” Hawking told the paper. In my case, that means blogging sporadically and cuddling with my records constantly.

Spinning out, gracefully
Going nowhere, quickly
I’m older, day by day
Still going back to my childhood way

Round and round patiently
Getting lost by the guide
And I’m all worked up over nothing

All in and out
Connect my body
Deep into the ground

Connect the earth to the moon
And link our heavenly bodies
And not a moment too soon

Well you can fling open the windows
Or you can board them up
Satan’s jeweled crown
Or Christ’s humble cup

You think you’ll find yourself out there
Out in the lion’s den
In somebody’s battle
Over belief systems

Or disappear into the vacuum
Total neutrality
The way you can’t lose nothing
But nothing can be gained

Well anyway you cut it
We’re just spinning around
Out on the circuits
Over the hollow grounds
Out on the circuits
Over the hollow grounds
Heading right back in the same place
That we started out
Right back in the same place
Right back in the same place
That we starting out

Let her know