Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label animals. Show all posts

Sunday, November 16, 2008

The Burden of Being Eric Burdon


When I was a little boy I didn't know much about sex but the minute I heard "Boom Boom" by The Animals I thought it was the sexiest song I'd ever heard. I didn't know it was a heavily tarted up version of a John Lee Hooker song, all I know was that I felt the vibe the band projected, and I felt pretty funny all over at the time. "House of The Rising Sun" was their biggest hit, a very jazzy reading of an old Leadbelly folk tune that completely transcended the sharecropper fields by Eric Burdon's East End working class Angry Young Man voice. It definitely didn't end there!

"It's My Life" and "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" were further raw slices of intense Albert Finney-style anger served by Mr. Burdon set to the jazziest organ in British rock. (Rod Argent of The Zombies was more classical than jazz to my ears). When Burdon drops to a baritone when he sings "I don't need your sympathy" in "Inside Looking Out" it gives me chills. His reading of Donovan's "Hey Gyp" makes more sense than the original, altering the original's "I don't need you sugar cube" to "I don't need your Cadillac, long, shiny, cool and black", pouring out more sex again. And let's not forget recalling his first sexual experience in "When I Was Young", "She was brown and I was pretty green".

Making the transition from Mod groovers to Psychedelic explorers has always been rough terrain for some bands (The Kinks, The Zombies, etc.) but for others like The Who it was a slam dunk. The Animals really took to psychedelia with sometimes hysterically bad results. Ironically, though it's really entertaining kitsch! "A Girl Named Sandoz" is a love song to acid with some tasty vibes, but then there's the cringe-worthy "San Franciscan Nights" with it's silly spoken introduction urging one and all to move to Haight-Ashbury. No matter how bad the lyrics Burdon sings with so much conviction you almost want to believe everything he sings. But common sense tells you not to.

"Winds of Change" is one of his name-drop tunes, where he tells us about the history of music, "Frank Zappa zapped...The Mamas and Papas knew where it's at". I'm not making this shit up! At least he roll calls jazz greats Dizzy Gillespie and Cozy Cole, so he's not just playing pop favorites. But the roll call continues with "Monterey" with it's Big Girl Lost in The Bigger City music stolen from The Mothers of Invention's "Call Any Vegetable" (Zappa produced an Animals album, so maybe he okayed it). The roll calls got sillier: "Hugh Masakela's music was black as night...His Majesty, Prince (Brian) Jones smiled as he moved through the crowd...Even the cops grooved with us".

If there's one thing that's unimpeachable about Burdon, it's the soulful sincerity of his music whether he's crooning a cool bluesy number like "Club A Go-Go" or goes tropical in "White Houses" ("you better get straight") or goes Disney African on us with "Spill The Wine". Whether he's at the top of his game or playing the migraine hipster Eric Burdon is never boring.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

What I Hate About You


There will come a time when we will rise above our hatred and soar like eagles - sometimes it's just too hard because there's too many destructive fucks out there who live for ripping other people apart. That's when even the proud eagle must bare his claws and tear his enemies apart with his razor-sharp beak, and this is this week's topic:

Reality Shows: Stupid, overly cute trash featuring un-famous nobodies do what un-famous people do: be annoying. If I have to watch one more episode where someone considers a boob job (they're boobs already!) I'll explode. And yes, I have to watch this shit. My wife's addicted to this crap. She even appeared in one of them! (Gene Simmons Incest Parade, or something like that).

Pet Power: Why don't you just come right and admit you hate the human race with a passion that would make Adolf Hitler blush? I'm referring, of course to people that place their kids, pets or even plants over their fellow adult's rights.
Example, the assholes with those 10-foot long leashes so the dogs can tear up the sidewalk and trip you up while you're trying to get out of their way. How about moving your fucking mutt out of my way? It's called common courtesy, learn the motherfucking rules.
And trim your fucking trees and plants from my driveway. If you don't, I'll prune the fucking weeds to my satisfaction!
And Church Moms, if my wife scares your kids, here's a great idea: take them into the house after it gets dark. What kind of parent lets their kids run around after 10 PM anyway? Idiots.

Cell Phone Addicts: Don't you know somebody's having an extremely important phone conversation while you're reaching over for a can of veggies at the market? They can't have a convo in their car anymore, now they have full on discussions in public places, standing in your way and soaking up public space with their private issues. By the way, people are always crying about their privacy - if privacy is so important to these douchebirds why are they having personal phone calls AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS at the laundromat, Trader Joe's or even The Little Boy's Room (aka toilet)? As soon as Mr. Important starts yappin' on the line in the crapper I make a point to flush the potty 100 times over and over again. You're bumming my BM out, brother!

Listen, I'm not one of these trendy misanthropes who says "I hate people" - I hate people only if they deserve it (heh!), so don't piss me off and in return I'll kill anybody who gets in your way. Yeah, that's the way I roll - the psychotic loyal friend. Join me in the winner's circle!