Pulse
Nothing to look forward to
Jared DuBach
Please Kill MeWhether your Thanksgiving break has been good or bad, there's always something to look forward to upon returning, and that is the pile of mail that's accumulated.
Phone bill, cable bill, somebody wanting money for nothing, somebody wanting to give me a credit card and the Bed, Bath & Beyond catalog seem to immediately find their appropriate final destinations: the bill drawer and the trash can.
But it is my new shiny deluxe edition of Rolling Stone that I've looked forward to the most. Upon first glance, I look forward to seeing the "500 Greatest Albums of All Time." So I begin the long, arduous process of flipping through the glossy pages toward the back. (There are so many ads in the front, I can't find the contents page. The PULSE doesn't seem to have that problem.)
At the same time, I was bombarded with grotesque images of a walking twig by the name of Paris Hilton. For some reason, people seem transfixed with her curveless splendor and expressionless awe. Wait! Do you hear that? It's the soft whistling from the breeze that is constantly blowing through Hilton's head. Quite frankly, the picture of a young Iggy Pop on page 72 is more appealing (let the homophobic e-mails commence). At least the kid's got more personality than Hilton and 100 times the talent. But then again, how much talent does it take to have someone videotape you having sex?
It's true though in the story by Erik Hedegaard when it constantly eludes to the fact that Pop, although he pretty much started the punk movement, has remained in semi-obscurity until the past few years. He's had songs in such illustrious films as "Trainspotting," "Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and "Crocodile Dundee II." Reading this story on him makes me wonder how any of his solo albums or work with his original band, The Stooges, faired in the 500-album listing.
Not a one. Not one album by him is in the listing. Yet five Smiths albums, four Velvet Underground albums, two Ramones albums, two X albums and two ZZ Top albums managed to beat him out. The Minutemen, Black Flag and The Clash managed to make it on the list, but no Iggy. Even his late '60s cohorts, the MC5, managed to get two records on the list.
What's the real kicker is that David Bowie, his one-time contemporary and rumored lover (which Pop denies), manages to have six albums on the list. And only two of them are actually good. It's amazing to think that not one musician, critic or executive who was questioned managed to tally up enough commendations to get Iggy and The Stooges' "Raw Power" or "Fun House" albums on there.
Once again, Rolling Stone has given me another disappointing issue. Why am I always harping on about how much RS sucks? It's because they're supposed to be the voice of a generation (and their children) but instead are nothing more than a squeak in the gears of a corporately controlled America. I commend them on at least trying to put out a good "special collectors issue," but the nine-song compilation disc that came included doesn't make up for a year's worth of pointless drivel.
This year, I will ask that I not get Rolling Stone again for Christmas. It was a good gesture and gave me many a harsh criticism to make for you lovely readers, but I can't stand to see my dear mother waste her money like that again. Instead, I'll ask for the $99.99 GameCube. At least that way when my brain rots in my skull I'll be getting some kind of enjoyment out of it.
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