Consequence of Sound » Frank Zappa http://consequenceofsound.net Think Fast, Listen Slowly Thu, 31 May 2012 18:55:02 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.4-RC1-20950 The Dago Dish: DeSalvo v. Rock Journalism http://consequenceofsound.net/2009/08/the-dago-dish-desalvo-v-rock-journalism/ http://consequenceofsound.net/2009/08/the-dago-dish-desalvo-v-rock-journalism/#comments Thu, 13 Aug 2009 19:15:30 +0000 Chris DeSalvo http://consequenceofsound.net/?p=18456 Frank Zappa declared that, “Most rock journalism is people who can’t write, interviewing people who can’t talk, for people who can’t read.”

There is more truth in this blind statement than there could ever be in anything I’ll ever write. Rock music is such a relative art form. Some kids love Green Day. Others enjoy Animal Collective. Your cup of tea is just that: YOUR CUP OF TEA. For this reason, I have decided to write about what I want to write about. If you have a problem with that, tear my writing apart with hyper intelligent quips regarding my lack of knowledge on the subjects I am assigned to write about. Do it. That’s what’s so hypnotically attractive about free will! You don’t have to like it. In fact, I encourage you to hate it. Your standards of excellence in rock journalism are obviously far too ambitious for you to dabble any longer with the swill I [Chris De Salvo] insist on concocting on a weekly basis!

They don’t pay us to sling our opinions in your collective direction. That’s fine. I don’t do it for the money. I enjoy it. I may be God awful, but they’ve given me a chance to put that underachievement on display. I’m grateful for this, and will continue to do this. However, if I find myself at a Grand Duchy concert and notice my eye lids are moving over my eyes like the Nazis over Poland in 1939, I’m going to write about it. I don’t care if it’s Frank Black, or Kurt Cobain’s corpse-come-back-to-life. If something entirely sucks, I’m going to use my [very] humble opinion to explain why. This is my “job.” This is why my tickets were comped. I’m not afraid to insist that aging legends are human. I love Frank Black. He seems like a decent enough guy, but not everything he touches turns to gold. In fact, his latest band is about as exciting to experience live as waiting for an amoeba to tap dance with the fervor of one Fred Astaire.

Lester Bangs once said that New Wave music was “shit,” because it was “just too good.” Not everyone reading the Village Voice in February 1981 was going to agree with what Bangs so defiantly proclaimed. Does that mean he shouldn’t have scribbled such a bold statement? Hell, no. He wrote from the heart, and though many of his works were littered with contradictions, most readers eventually fell in love with his oft-odd interpretation of what a “music review” actually consisted of.

Hunter S. Thompson often made shit up. If you’ve done any kind of research on the gonzo-bard, you’d know this. He was rumored to have been able to drink an alcoholic army of wife-beaters under the table, and later insisted most of those decadent stories were insanely embellished. Regardless, he wrote in a stream-of-consciousness manner that revealed the voice of a sensitive mad-man who hardly had a credible grasp on the way the world worked. He simply told his story, based on the loose-outlines his editors provided him. This got him into trouble more often than it filled his perpetually empty pockets, but it made him a memorable scribe in his own right.

Let me get something straight, before I plunge forth with my less-than-mediocre vocabulary, and elementary-level prose: I am not comparing myself to these two brilliant, troubled, deceased journalists. Are you kidding me? That notion makes me chuckle. Not laugh, chuckle. It’s that ridiculous.

The truth is, I’d never aspire to be either of these men because they hardly achieved anything solid. Sure, they amassed meteor-sized bodies of work, respectively. Yes, each were mentioned in songs by respected artists, depicted on the big screen by great actors (Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Johnny Depp), spoken of more as folk-lore than actual human beings, et al… That’s all great. That’s fine, but writing isn’t something that paid off for either of them in the long run. Neither died with much of a net worth, and though money isn’t every thing, it’s certainly been on everyone’s mind since the stock market did a nose dive into a water-less deep end.

Writing is little more than a nice exercise for people (like… me?) who have a difficult time developing a full-length story to produce over a great deal of time. Or, it’s a glorified practice of escapism for relatively young men and woman looking to prolong their looming adulthood well past the college-grad deadline. “True writers” want to produce something that glorifies their voice: A screen play. A novel. A musical. These things take time, and sometimes it’s easier to just bang out a few “concert reviews” for the Hell of it. Why? They don’t mean anything. They are informative dissertations on the events of random evenings during which rock and roll bands attempt to impress those who forked over $8 to see them. That’s all.

It’s often assumed rock “critics” are merely supposed to produce an objective review of the concert in question without an ominous jolt of editorializing, or personal angst. Sorry. Can’t do that. Won’t do that. Why? I don’t write for people who adhere to the “standards” overachieving high school seniors pledge allegiance to as they strive for Valedictorian status. I write for me. That’s the one thing I have in common with the aforementioned journalism-legands. That, and that alone makes me happy. If you’re less-than-happy after reading this column, I don’t care. If you’re rolling your eyes because you think I think I’m better than you, congratulations! You’re not alone.

]]> Village Voice in February 1981 was going to agree with what Bangs so defiantly proclaimed. Does that mean he shouldn't have scribbled such a bold statement? Hell, no. He wrote from the heart, and though many of his works were littered with contradictions, most readers eventually fell in love with his oft-odd interpretation of what a "music review" actually consisted of. Hunter S. Thompson often made shit up. If you've done any kind of research on the gonzo-bard, you'd know this. He was rumored to have been able to drink an alcoholic army of wife-beaters under the table, and later insisted most of those decadent stories were insanely embellished. Regardless, he wrote in a stream-of-consciousness manner that revealed the voice of a sensitive mad-man who hardly had a credible grasp on the way the world worked. He simply told his story, based on the loose-outlines his editors provided him. This got him into trouble more often than it filled his perpetually empty pockets, but it made him a memorable scribe in his own right. Let me get something straight, before I plunge forth with my less-than-mediocre vocabulary, and elementary-level prose: I am not comparing myself to these two brilliant, troubled, deceased journalists. Are you kidding me? That notion makes me chuckle. Not laugh, chuckle. It's that ridiculous. The truth is, I'd never aspire to be either of these men because they hardly achieved anything solid. Sure, they amassed meteor-sized bodies of work, respectively. Yes, each were mentioned in songs by respected artists, depicted on the big screen by great actors (Philip Seymour Hoffman, and Johnny Depp), spoken of more as folk-lore than actual human beings, et al... That's all great. That's fine, but writing isn't something that paid off for either of them in the long run. Neither died with much of a net worth, and though money isn't every thing, it's certainly been on everyone's mind since the stock market did a nose dive into a water-less deep end. Writing is little more than a nice exercise for people (like... me?) who have a difficult time developing a full-length story to produce over a great deal of time. Or, it's a glorified practice of escapism for relatively young men and woman looking to prolong their looming adulthood well past the college-grad deadline. "True writers" want to produce something that glorifies their voice: A screen play. A novel. A musical. These things take time, and sometimes it's easier to just bang out a few "concert reviews" for the Hell of it. Why? They don't mean anything. They are informative dissertations on the events of random evenings during which rock and roll bands attempt to impress those who forked over $8 to see them. That's all. It's often assumed rock "critics" are merely supposed to produce an objective review of the concert in question without an ominous jolt of editorializing, or personal angst. Sorry. Can't do that. Won't do that. Why? I don't write for people who adhere to the "standards" overachieving high school seniors pledge allegiance to as they strive for Valedictorian status. I write for me. That's the one thing I have in common with the aforementioned journalism-legands. That, and that alone makes me happy. If you're less-than-happy after reading this column, I don't care. If you're rolling your eyes because you think I think I'm better than you, congratulations! You're not alone. [youtube 06FwgPZZqFg]]]> http://consequenceofsound.net/2009/08/the-dago-dish-desalvo-v-rock-journalism/feed/ 15 List ‘Em Carefully: Top 10 Creepiest Album Covers http://consequenceofsound.net/2008/11/list-em-carefully-top-10-creepiest-album-covers/ http://consequenceofsound.net/2008/11/list-em-carefully-top-10-creepiest-album-covers/#comments Mon, 24 Nov 2008 14:00:26 +0000 Dan Caffrey http://consequenceofsound.net/?p=9313 Halloween may be long gone, but it’s never too late for a good scare. However, for music lovers, scares often come shrouded in irony: sophomore slumps, musicians turned actors, celebrity meltdowns. All of these can be quite frightening, although it’s usually unintentional. In the realm of sonics, the best place to turn to for a genuine scare, for an artistic statement that is meant to jar you or get under your skin, is the album cover.

Now there are two types of creepy album covers: the so bad it’s accidentally appalling (Weezer’s Weezer (The Red Album), Toby Keith’s Unleashed, R. Kelly’s Chocolate Factory – the list goes on), and the sincerely macabre; artwork or photographs that were created to illicit a gasp, silence, or shudder. The following list is comprised of those albums, the ones with the images we just can’t shake no matter how hard we try. Some are explicit, some are vague, some are simply atmospheric. But all of them know how to go bump in the night.

10. Joy Division – Unknown Pleasures (1979)

The drab cover design taken straight from the Cambridge Encyclopedia is a series of measured pulses from the first discovered pulsar. Boring, right? But science can be sinister, and this plain yet punishing image takes on many faces. Is it a lonely mountain range? Is it a boxcutter blade being melted? Looking both vicious and vaginal, the cover for Unknown Pleasures is like the mask of Michael Myers; so simple it allows you to broadcast your own version of evil onto its blank design.

9. Pinback – Pinback (1999)

As beautiful as Pinback’s layered chamber pop is, the band sure knows how to commission an eerie album cover. While many of their later works are striking in their detail, their debut image scares us with its confusion. The old couple appears to be waving at each other from a close distance, but the blank smiles on their faces suggest they are in separate worlds, the unsettling blue haze from the mountains hinting that something isn’t quite right.

8. Aphex Twin – Come To Daddy (1997)

This one loses points for using an image pulled straight from the title track’s music video. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s disturbing. Featuring a row of small children with Aphex Twin’s (a.k.a. Richard D. James) sneering British mug, this photo plays all sorts of twisted games with age identity. And as pedophilic as the juxtaposition is, you can’t help but think it would be creepy even without James’ face, or without the children’s bodies for that matter.

7. L7 – Hungry For Stink (1994)

The only thing more frightening than L7 frontwoman Donita Sparks pulling out her bloody tampon at the 1992 Reading festival and ordering the mud-slinging crowd to eat it is this album cover. Serial killers are scary enough. Serial killers traveling cross country brandishing a an oversized hunting knife and a bloodstained rabbit mask? In the famous words of Del Preston, “that’s a different story altogether…”

6. Korn – Life Is Peachy (1996)

While their music has gotten worse over time, Korn has always boasted some of the most insane album covers ever created, even with their most recent release, 2007’s Untitled. But nothing takes the poison cake like Life Is Peachy. The pale, antique boy straps up his Sunday best, dressing himself in darkness and foreshadowing the ink black, twisted creature he will become. Maybe his reflection was an omen for the band’s career.

5. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - F?A?? (1997)

One look at the pitch, plainly ominous country landscape and you understand why most of the album’s second track, “East Hastings”, served as the opening to 28 Days Later. Everything about this rotten chestnut screams apocalypse, from the album cover to the stark guitar twangs to the spoken word lyrics about blood pouring out of your wallet. It doesn’t get stormier than this.

4. Frank Zappa – Thing-Fish (1984)

You could whip up an entire list of creepy album covers from just a third of Frank Zappa’s discography. But the top spot would still go to Thing-Fish. Based on the Tuskegee Experiment, where the U.S. Public Health Service refused to treat syphilis for a community of black men in order to study the disease’s effects, Thing-Fish is a loose concept album that, in true Zappa fashion, pushes the terrible events to something surreal and politically hard-hitting. Syphilis (a government issued substance called “Galoot Cologne” on the album) transforms its victims into “Mammy-Nuns”, bizarre, humanoid racial caricatures that prevent them from living any sort of normal life. As complex as the story becomes, it can all be summed up by its album cover. Half botched B-movie experiment, half cross-dressing, mutated Uncle Tom, Thing-Fish is disturbing not only because of its physical appearance, but because of the unfathomable racist event it personifies.

3. The Rolling Stones – Goat’s Head Soup (1973)

Is the elegant socialite being suffocated? Decapitated? The blurry composition and putrid complexion make it look like we’re viewing a woman’s murder through an aquarium filled with urine. Her Victorian hat further exemplifies her properness, making us believe that this is not something we should be watching or listening to. People just didn’t get killed back then. Right?

2. Nine Inch Nails – Year Zero (2007)

Another concept album, Year Zero imagines a dystopian, totalitarian future where a hand-shaped entity called “The Presence” frequently shoots down from the sky. Is it a glimmer of hope? Or is it the government closing down on anyone who opposes them? My guess would be the latter. Not only does “The Presence” (exhibited in all of its shadow glory on the album cover) look menacing as hell as it towers over scenic Americana mountains, its outline also resembles a person. The interior view of the car is completely normal; calm even, clashing with the terrifying shape, and reminding us that no matter where we go, no matter how serene our vacation spot, it is always there. Always watching.

1. Jethro Tull – Aqualung (1971)

For those still sore at flute/rock fusion artists Jethro Tull for stealing the 1989 Grammy for “Best Hard Rock/Metal Performance” from Metallica, look no further than Aqualung for evidence of the band’s dark credentials. Pulled from miserly, lurking archetypes like Fagen and The Wandering Jew, the hunched over, ragged thing on the cover is the stuff of true nightmares. How can you look at him and not think he’ll snatch away your children? And what’s he got under that coat? Wonderfully painted in archaic strokes of sludge, mud, and fog from the streets of London, the cover of Aqualung proves that for all their flute whistling whim, Jethro Tull’s guts have always been grim, gravel, and gothic.

]]> Weezer (The Red Album), Toby Keith’s Unleashed, R. Kelly’s Chocolate Factory - the list goes on), and the sincerely macabre; artwork or photographs that were created to illicit a gasp, silence, or shudder. The following list is comprised of those albums, the ones with the images we just can’t shake no matter how hard we try. Some are explicit, some are vague, some are simply atmospheric. But all of them know how to go bump in the night. 10. Joy Division - Unknown Pleasures (1979) The drab cover design taken straight from the Cambridge Encyclopedia is a series of measured pulses from the first discovered pulsar. Boring, right? But science can be sinister, and this plain yet punishing image takes on many faces. Is it a lonely mountain range? Is it a boxcutter blade being melted? Looking both vicious and vaginal, the cover for Unknown Pleasures is like the mask of Michael Myers; so simple it allows you to broadcast your own version of evil onto its blank design. 9. Pinback - Pinback (1999) As beautiful as Pinback’s layered chamber pop is, the band sure knows how to commission an eerie album cover. While many of their later works are striking in their detail, their debut image scares us with its confusion. The old couple appears to be waving at each other from a close distance, but the blank smiles on their faces suggest they are in separate worlds, the unsettling blue haze from the mountains hinting that something isn’t quite right. 8. Aphex Twin - Come To Daddy (1997) This one loses points for using an image pulled straight from the title track’s music video. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s disturbing. Featuring a row of small children with Aphex Twin’s (a.k.a. Richard D. James) sneering British mug, this photo plays all sorts of twisted games with age identity. And as pedophilic as the juxtaposition is, you can’t help but think it would be creepy even without James’ face, or without the children’s bodies for that matter. 7. L7 - Hungry For Stink (1994) The only thing more frightening than L7 frontwoman Donita Sparks pulling out her bloody tampon at the 1992 Reading festival and ordering the mud-slinging crowd to eat it is this album cover. Serial killers are scary enough. Serial killers traveling cross country brandishing a an oversized hunting knife and a bloodstained rabbit mask? In the famous words of Del Preston, “that’s a different story altogether...” 6. Korn - Life Is Peachy (1996) While their music has gotten worse over time, Korn has always boasted some of the most insane album covers ever created, even with their most recent release, 2007’s Untitled. But nothing takes the poison cake like Life Is Peachy. The pale, antique boy straps up his Sunday best, dressing himself in darkness and foreshadowing the ink black, twisted creature he will become. Maybe his reflection was an omen for the band’s career. 5. Godspeed You! Black Emperor - F?A?? (1997) One look at the pitch, plainly ominous country landscape and you understand why most of the album’s second track, “East Hastings”, served as the opening to 28 Days Later. Everything about this rotten chestnut screams apocalypse, from the album cover to the stark guitar twangs to the spoken word lyrics about blood pouring out of your wallet. It doesn’t get stormier than this. 4. Frank Zappa - Thing-Fish (1984) You could whip up an entire list of creepy album covers from just a third of Frank Zappa’s discography. But the top spot would still go to Thing-Fish. Based on the Tuskegee Experiment, where the U.S. Public Health Service refused to treat syphilis for a community of black men in order to study the disease’s effects, Thing-Fish is a loose concept album that, in true Zappa fashion, pushes the terrible events to something surreal and politically hard-hitting. Syphilis (a government issued substance called “Galoot Cologne” on the album) transforms its victims into “Mammy-Nuns”, bizarre, humanoid racial caricatures that prevent them from living any sort of normal life. As complex as the story becomes, it can all be summed up by its album cover. Half botched B-movie experiment, half cross-dressing, mutated Uncle Tom, Thing-Fish is disturbing not only because of its physical appearance, but because of the unfathomable racist event it personifies. 3. The Rolling Stones - Goat’s Head Soup (1973) Is the elegant socialite being suffocated? Decapitated? The blurry composition and putrid complexion make it look like we’re viewing a woman’s murder through an aquarium filled with urine. Her Victorian hat further exemplifies her properness, making us believe that this is not something we should be watching or listening to. People just didn’t get killed back then. Right? 2. Nine Inch Nails - Year Zero (2007) Another concept album, Year Zero imagines a dystopian, totalitarian future where a hand-shaped entity called “The Presence” frequently shoots down from the sky. Is it a glimmer of hope? Or is it the government closing down on anyone who opposes them? My guess would be the latter. Not only does “The Presence” (exhibited in all of its shadow glory on the album cover) look menacing as hell as it towers over scenic Americana mountains, its outline also resembles a person. The interior view of the car is completely normal; calm even, clashing with the terrifying shape, and reminding us that no matter where we go, no matter how serene our vacation spot, it is always there. Always watching. 1. Jethro Tull - Aqualung (1971) For those still sore at flute/rock fusion artists Jethro Tull for stealing the 1989 Grammy for “Best Hard Rock/Metal Performance” from Metallica, look no further than Aqualung for evidence of the band’s dark credentials. Pulled from miserly, lurking archetypes like Fagen and The Wandering Jew, the hunched over, ragged thing on the cover is the stuff of true nightmares. How can you look at him and not think he’ll snatch away your children? And what’s he got under that coat? Wonderfully painted in archaic strokes of sludge, mud, and fog from the streets of London, the cover of Aqualung proves that for all their flute whistling whim, Jethro Tull’s guts have always been grim, gravel, and gothic.]]> http://consequenceofsound.net/2008/11/list-em-carefully-top-10-creepiest-album-covers/feed/ 24