Category Archives: Music

Bands, albums and live reviews

If your fans jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?

There’s little point in raising any objections to The Eagles’ exclusive distribution deal with Wal-Mart for their double-album Long Road Out of Eden just because it’s about money. Back in 1994, The Eagles had an unfortunate influence on the music industry thanks to their prolonged absence from it, and were therefore able to command upwards of $100 – then a princely sum – for a ticket to one of their reunion shows, which has led to an ongoing competition to see who can command the most dollars per ticket. But in terms of sheer greed, The Eagles are far outpaced by other bands who jump at every licensing deal throw at them. Plus, it’s far less disconcerting to see a band “selling out” when its music no longer matters. So this move means almost nothing to anyone who isn’t on the Eagles Inc. payroll.

I can’t even get that irritated by the obvious hypocrisy. In a recent CNN interview, Don Henley says that Wal-Mart made them “a really good offer” and that’s presumably why he’s excepting Wal-Mart from his usual tirades about the evils of corporations. Henley is rock’s biggest blowhard, and I’ve long felt that the louder someone has to be about their beliefs, the less sincere they are. It’s as if they’re trying to convince themselves while they’re convincing you. Social responsibility was good for his career, until it wasn’t. And again, it’s not like the Eagles have been above a big money grab before.

No, the thing I find objectionable is Henley’s further reasoning about the wisdom of their decision:

And a lot of our fans are customers of Wal-Mart, so we thought it was a good fit.

Hmm, where have I heard that before? Oh wait, I remember.

We feel okay about VWs. Several of us even drive them.”

Is this the new standard? It’s OK as long as it’s something you or your fans use? If so, I can’t wait for, say, Tegan and Sara’s “Knife Going In” to show up in an ad for Land O’ Lakes Butter. Or maybe an exclusive distribution deal with BP Amoco stations for the next album by Rihanna because “a lot of my fans have cars that use gas, so it seemed like a natural fit.” Or music from Nickelback’s next album showing up in an Ex-Lax ad because it’s so shitty.

The week ahead

Obviously, I’ve been too busy to post because I’ve been doing some consulting for the Trib’s Steve Johnson.

Just kidding, TOC bosses! Not getting any on the side! Love my job, please don’t fire me!

I’m rocking a new laptop, but the fried motherboard on the old machine has prevented me from pulling my old hard drive data, which had some planned post ideas on it. So things will continue to be a bit spare here, but I encourage you to check out the TOC blog over the next week, as I’ll be posting reviews of tonight’s Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings show tomorrow, as well as a review next Wednesday of a solo show by Dan Wilson, formerly of Semisonic (or perhaps the review I turned in last week of the Bobby Bare Jr./Lucero show).

It’s interesting: I still really love Semisonic, but when I listen to their early albums, they sound a little dated. I don’t mean that as a slam – I feel the same way about Material Issue’s International Pop Overthrow – but it’s hard to divorce that music from its time, even if Wilson’s way with a lyric and a hook comes through loud and clear on the song he co-wrote for the Dixie Chicks (“Not Ready to Make Nice”).

Finally – last plug* for the 9-to-5, I swear – if you’re at all interested in the Chicago theater scene, you really ought to check out the writing that the TOC staff has been doing on our blog. The work they’ve been doing there has been heartily embraced by the local community, in large part because they’re willing to write honestly about what’s going on locally, even if it means catching flack from the 800 pound gorillas that are some of the major theater producers in town.

* Last plug today, that is.

Reflections on years of collecting pieces of plastic

I’m on vacation this week, and I fully expected it to lead to more blog posts here, but that hasn’t happened since I’ve been spending as much time as possible away from the computer so I’m not tempted to check and see how things are going at TOC in my absence. Instead, I’ve been knocking off some long-overdue projects around the house.

Today, for instance, I tackled a project that’s been hanging over my head for months: re-organizing my CDs. I’ve been dividing things into three piles: discs that I’ve loaded into iTunes and can be put into storage; discs that I don’t want in iTunes for space reasons, but still want easy access to; and the stuff I’m selling off. So for example: the double-disc version of The Very Best of Elvis Costello is in the first category, my copy of his Get Happy! album is in the second, and the single-disc version of Very Best that came out several years ago is in the sell pile. (I’m assuming Reckless still buys CDs. It’s been so long since I’ve sold CDs, Sean Fanning was still in high school.)

I’ve said before that it’s important to me to have a visual representation of this part of who I am in my home, and the piece I wrote a while back was pretty clear on how important it is to me that the records I share with others are reflective of my personal taste. Unfortunately, this plan means the discs on my shelves don’t necessarily reflect that. For example, I’d be mightily confused if I looked at someone’s collection of CDs and saw that the only Clash disc they have is Combat Rock, which is one of the lousiest “classic” albums you’ll ever encounter. I’d also wonder about the kind of person who only owns one James Brown album (James Brown’s Funky Christmas), but saw fit to purchase all three Sheryl Crow albums. Obviously, this means I can never have anyone over to the apartment.

Most of these CDs have been in boxes for the better part of a year and a half, and looking at them is like seeing old friends, particularly the numerous mix CDs my college friends I were trading for a year or so back in the early aughts. This probably explains why I’m having trouble parting with some discs, but does not explain why I am hanging onto that one Nikka Costa album, though I am sure it is the same reason why that Lisa Stansfield album isn’t going anywhere either. I am such a sucker for a pretty face and a little R&B street cred, no matter how long past its sell-by date it is.

There’s a lot of personal history here, like the time I went out and bought three (!!!) Don Henley solo albums because I was in a really big Eagles phase. I still remember my friend Rick asking “Why don’t you just buy more Eagles albums?” I didn’t have an answer for him then, and still don’t. I’ve also got mixes I made for when my friends and I drove to South Carolina for a friend’s wedding, for parties I threw, and to mark the holidays, among other occasions. And I still have the Ultradisc gold CD version of Queen’s A Night At The Opera (yes, you can tell the difference in sound quality) I bought in high school. It was $27. I was a huge fan, I did not have a girlfriend, and i had little else to do with the money I made at Bakers Square.

Speaking of, I was talking with a friend from high school this week about albums that are tough for me to listen to, even though they’re really great. I was listening to Art Brut’s first album and Tralala’s self-titled a lot when my ex- and I broke up in 2006, but I tend to avoid both of those now. Thanks to a breakup in college, I have a similar reaction when I hear No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” or Sheryl Crow’s “My Favorite Mistake” though both of those songs are kind of crap, so no great loss there. But man I miss hearing Art Brut and Tralala, devoid of personal context. I carry those with me on my iPod, perhaps hoping that one day I will.

On the other hand, that really shitty Nina Gordon record went on the sell pile. You know how when you’re depressed, you start doing all kinds of things that are really bad for you? I can tell how unhappy I was in my life by the records I was buying. I had two rough patches in 2000 and in 1997, two years in which I purchased that Nina Gordon album and – I kid you not – the soundtrack to Ally McBeal, respectively. I enjoyed those records like someone who convinces themselves that they are in love with someone who treats them like shit. If you ever see me buy a Celine Dion record, please know that this is a silent cry for help.

Overall, the sell pile is pretty small. I know there are some people who wouldn’t understand why I don’t just burn everything onto an MP3, and toss the lot of it. But I don’t have a lot of pictures of the people I’m close to, or the important times we shared together.

But it’s pretty likely I remember what CD we were listening to at the time. And it’s nice to pull it out and look at it, now and again.

* Can someone explain to me why this album is still in print, but the version of the English Beat’s I Can’t Stop It** with “Tears of a Clown” on it, is not?
** My copy is safely ensconced in the storage pile, and loaded into iTunes.

Coming soon: "My Tube Socks (Remix)" by K-Fed

MP3 – “My Bra” (excerpt) – Mya
Lyrics – See below

Last week, the big new music release was Radiohead’s In Rainbows. I am predicting that this week’s big talker will be “My Bra” by Mya.

Okay, perhaps this song won’t have people chattering about the end of the music industry business model, but it makes up for it with Devin Hester levels of ridiculousness.

The verses of the song are pretty unremarkable by themselves; they’re the kind of non-specific, meaningless I-am-dealing-with-adversity-but-will-persevere-by- staying-strong lyrics you hear in the trailers of movies featuring single women who have to deal with tragedy of some kind, be it death, divorce or public speaking engagements. In this case, the song comes from the upcoming Lifetime movie The Matters of Life and Dating, a title that conveniently omits the major plot point of the movie: that Ricki Lake’s single (see?) character undergoes a mastectomy and has to learn how to live life again.

(Sidebar: To my mind, the definitive life-after-mastectomy tele-film is The Ann Jillian Story, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.)

So on its face, writing a song called “My Bra” for a film like this makes a lot of sense. But instead of an introspective exploration of how items we take for granted are recast in a different paradigm after a major life change, you get lyrics like “You’re my legs when I start to stumble/My strength, my sun, my heart.”

But once you get to the chorus, the song becomes unintentionally hilarious.

I don’t mean to take away from the very real problem of breast cancer, which directly or indirectly affects anybody on the planet who isn’t a clone, but even if you’re not a 14 year-old boy, how do you not laugh at lines like:

When it’s just too hard to make it through another day
You’re lifting me up
My bra, my bra, my bra

After some further research, it turns out that “my bra” is slang in the breast cancer community for “my friend.” In that context, it’s cute and….well, supportive (pardon the pun). But hearing it over and over as a stand-in for an actual person just conjures up images of some woman cozying up to her underwires.

Perhaps if the verses weren’t of the Dr. Seuss school of rhyming (little surprise that Mya says “I literally wrote the song in five minutes”), I might have a different opinion.

In the meantime, I’ll take solace in the notion that my 99 cents contributed to breast cancer research, while I busily compose a Weird Al style ode to bro-mance titled “My Bro.” At first, I thought I could use the vernacular “bra” as a stand-in for “bro” but as Barney said in last night’s How I Met Your Mother, that word should be stricken from the lexicon. “It was fun for a week…now it’s over.”

You can find out how to do more to stop breast cancer without hurting your ears at Lifetime’s site.

“My Bra” by Mya

You never know….you’re my bra
You never know what you’re gonna get from day to day
I was sitting on top of the world never thought that would change
Had a life that dreams are made of and everything
And in a moment it all came crashing down and I’ll never be the same

Thought I was safe
I had it made
It couldn’t happen to me

Chorus:
You’re my bra, my bra, my bra
You’re my light at the end of the tunnel
You’re my bra, my bra, my bra
You’re my legs when I start to stumble
My strength, my sun, my heart
When it’s just too hard to take it
When it’s just too hard to make it through another day
You’re lifting me up
My bra, my bra, my bra

When the going got tough, you were there by my side
Telling me the things I needed to hear
You went the extra mile
I thank the heavens above
For your grace
‘Cause when I couldn’t find my courage (yeah)
You gave me your face

Your endless calls
Breaking down my walls
Getting down on your knees and breaking with me

Chorus

I’m fighting, fighting
Facing all of my fears
I’m surviving, I’m surviving
I keep on
Fighting, fighting
Taking it one day at a time
I keep
Trying, Trying

Gonna make it, gonna make it
Nothing’s gonna stop me from going on
So many reasons I gotta stay strong

Chorus (x2)
Fade out

Bio-rhythms


While the week’s writing has waned, I have been busy. Dick Prall is a local musician I met when he asked me to moderate a political debate, hosted by the Chicago Council on Global Affairs. He’s on staff there, and apparently thought I’d be good for the gig after someone there saw me read the Richard Marx letters. No, I’m not sure I see the connection either, but I guess they were looking for someone who’s comfortable on stage with a beer in his hand and let’s face it: I can hit that mark as easy as dropping a tennis ball on the floor.

In any case, we’ve been friendly since then and recently he asked me to write a bio to accompany his new album, Weightless. You’ll find that here.

I’ve never taken on an assignment like this before, and probably wouldn’t have if Prall hadn’t been a musician I enjoy or if he’d been looking for me to write the kind of fawning, lots-of-words-here-but-nothing’s-being-said bio that I see countless examples of in promotional one-sheets. He said he wanted something straight-ahead and journalistic, so I ended up approaching it like most of the other band profiles I’ve done.

Like everyone with access to electricity and a guitar, Dick’s got a MySpace page and I’d encourage you to check it out. Seriously, have I ever steered you wrong on music?

Unintended consequences

I was trying to explain to my co-worker – who moved here from Atlanta in the last year – why the Cubs don’t seem like underdogs when you live in Chicago (and especially if you’re a Sox fan). Unfortunately, he’s out of the country this week and isn’t seeing the many supporting arguments for my thesis.

Frankly, I can deal with the wall-to-wall Cubs playoff coverage on the news and the way it infects my daily life, but the one thing that chafes me is the way every asshole with a guitar seems to have come up with their own song about the Cubs. Ya’ll have Go Cubs Go. Isn’t that enough?

On the other hand, I quite enjoy this little ditty from the fine folks at the Beachwood Reporter.

Oblivious Living Part 1.17 "I Eat Cannibals (Part One)" by Total Coelo

MP3 – “I Eat Cannibals (Part One)” by Total Coelo
Lyrics – “I Eat Cannibals (Part One)” by Total Coelo

Approximately 10-15 years from now, some psi-blogger (in the future, you will be able to post to your blog using only your mind) will be trying to force himself to blog more often and will decide to blog about mild pop hits of the mid-1990s that show up on Now That’s What I Call Music compilations. He will then come to a Spice Girls song – possibly “Wannabe” but more likely “Stop”* and have the same reaction I am having right now to Total Coelo’s “I Eat Cannibals (Part One)”, which is “Meh.”

Seriously, this song is crap. I will – no lie – PayPal you $20 if you can name me a stupider lyric than this:

Hot pot, cook it up, I’m never gonna stop
Yum, yum, gee it’s fun, I’m banging on a drum

I know 1982 was the year that “Pac-Man Fever” was a hit but dear God, someone actually paid someone else for that shit.

Although I do have to admit, this lyric actually has a lil’ sumthin’:

All I wanna do, is make a meal of you
We are what we eat, you’re my kind of meat
Got a hunger for your love, it’s what I’m speaking of
Give a dog a bone, I can take it home

AC/DC wishes it wrote that.

Still, the “Pac-Man Fever” reference isn’t accidental. If you look at the top 100 from 1982, it’s rife with novelty songs, piss-poor MOR and a slew of head-scratchers.** How “Spirits In The Material World” ever charted that year, I do not know.

The best thing you can say about the five women of Total Coelo, who were named Toto Coelo when the song was originally released in the UK but changed their name when the band Toto bitched, is that they managed to piss off Steve Lukather. Bananarama has more cred.

I was wrong. I have much stronger feelings that “meh.” This song is really terrible. I’m almost sad I blogged about it.***

* “Wannabe” was lame then and holy hell has it aged poorly. “Stop” is actually not too bad, along with a handful of other Spice Girls tracks. They weren’t exactly Joni Mitchell, but I’d rather listen to Spice and Spiceworld than any album by Avril Lavigne. At least Spice Girls didn’t try and convince you they were anything but dance-pop queens. While I take issue with the whole “girl power” bit, at least Mel B never extolled the joys of stealing another girl’s boyfriend in song.
** I have Juice Newton’s Greatest Hits on my iPod and I still had to cue up “The Sweetest Thing (I’ve Ever Known).” I know I’ve heard it before (thanks, Mom) but I couldn’t have sang it to you with a gun to my head. Incidentally, Jenny Lewis? You owe Juice Newton a thank-you note.
*** Except I got to write about Juice Newton and Spice Girls, which was actually fun.

Missing Credits, The Final Chapter

This is the last installment of the first in a series of letters between myself and Matt Wood, proprietor of Wood-Tang.com. A discussion that began as a review of Kanye West’s Graduation has morphed into the question of Mr. West’s social responsibility. You can see part 1 at Matt’s site, part 2 here at OMIC and part 3 back at the W-T.

Wood-Tang:

I’m with you in that I’m not looking for Kanye to be the next Public Enemy. And the most interested artists are those that revel in contradictions, so I’d have no problem with a song about social commentary juxtaposed with a song celebrating the trappings of money and fame (a song other that “Drunk and Hot Girls” which – I think we have both made clear – is the foulest thing unleashed on an unsuspecting person or persons since the time my friends and I were riding home in the car after I had consumed a large plate of jamabalaya at the House of Blues.

I think one of the reasons we ended up on this topic is because there’s little on the album to distract us from it. There’s nothing to get me fired up with anger or sputtering in disbelief, and there are no revelations about the man himself. So in exchange I’d expect some hot beats or stunning musicality, though it’s a much more efficient album that his previous works, stripped of the skits and pointless collabos (and I think the score on the ones that are here ends in a 2-2-1 decision with “Good Life” neither gaining nor losing him any fans).

So perhaps we can consider Graduation as Kanye’s rebuilding year. While it’s not taking things all the way to the big game, it’s certainly accomplishing something by highlighting the need for some change and put some distance between the “international asshole” and the man who wants to be the king of all music awards shows, even the shitty ones.

One of the aspects of the manufactured contest between Kanye and 50 Cent that’s been overlooked is how both men managed to steal a little of the other’s thunder to burnish their weak points. With Kanye’s success (and all the shout-outs he gives to white indie rockers), he’s got to know that the ludicrous criticism that he’s losing touch with real hip-hop will result. And since 50’s movie career was DOA, resulting in lackluster sales for his previous album, he needed to get back on the radar of those who just stick with the big releases. So it helps 50 to look like someone who is a viable candidate to sell as many albums as Kanye even though he isn’t, and Kanye looks more like a traditional hip-hop artist, rather than someone who seems to be leaving the trappings behind for a more mainstream career.

To me, it seems like the cat is still trying to figure out his own identity. Once he does, I think he’s going to end up producing the best album of his career.

Sincerely,
Mr. Smith

Missing Credits, Pt. 2

Eventually, I’ll return to blogging the Living In Oblivion compilation, but in the meantime, a new regular feature will debut here: a series of open letters between myself and Matt Wood, published writer of some renown, who maintains Wood-Tang, the world’s foremost source for information about both the Wu-Tang Clan and child-rearing.

Matt’s opening volley can be found here, and concerns the recent Kanye West album Graduation.

Wood-Tang,

Sorry for the delay. Please understand that non-alcoholic beer won’t drink itself.

First, to address your point about your reduced consumption of records, now that we’re advanced in age, I think we choose to indulge our vices according to quality, not quantity. The gin is Bombay, not Gordon’s; steak, not Steak ‘n’ Shake; and the music ought to follow. Plus, there’s the time aspect. I don’t just want to listen to Jimi, I want to hear Jimi.

Now, thanks to this gig, I too have access to more music. And maybe it’s the quality that’s declining, but I’m finding myself less enthralled by the majority of new music. It’s still good, mind you, but not as gripping, save for that last Hold Steady record.

But perhaps it’s because we’re in a time when the paradigm keeps changing. We are in a time when music is entrenched in culture in a way that it hasn’t been since the grunge movement, with all the pros and cons that go along with that. As such, music has to work a little harder to be heard above the din.

And I guess that’s why I wasn’t all that enthralled with the new Kanye West record either.

I don’t blame you for expecting greatness from Mr. West’s record. Hell, the man himself practically guaranteed it. It makes perfect sense that you’d buy it without listening to it first (hey, remember when we did that all the time?) because the guy’s got a solid track record. Yet I still think it makes sense to give most artists a one-album berth of badness. That is to say, if the last record sucked, you don’t need to rush out for the next one.

Working where I do, my record-buying habits have diminished. More often that not, I’m able to walk over to the Music department and borrow a disc I’m interested in or find it on someone’s iTunes. But my record-consumption habits have changed, too. I read enough and listen enough that I get a taste of quite a few things, but don’t make a full meal out of too many discs. I imagine you’re in the same camp, which probably compounded your disappointment. In those rare(r) times when you actually take the time to sit down and get into a record, you want to be impressed.

And let’s face it, this Graduation is more like the ceremony they hold when you get out of 8th grade, not the one you attend when leaving high school.

On a recent edition of Sound Opinions, Greg Kot and Jim DeRogatis fell all over themselves in praising this record, mainly because they set it up like everyone else has: as a comparison to 50 Cent’s I’ll Kill Your Ass or whatever the damn thing is called. And honestly, if that’s your point of comparison, Graduation is going to sound like There’s a Riot Goin’ On.

To be fair, there are some good tracks here, and we’re getting more of the man himself, freed up from the skits and bloated guest spots of other hip-hop albums. If I still went to clubs, I’d be hoping they played “Stronger” and I’m pretty sure “Homecoming” is going on my year-end mix tape. And while “Everything I Am” is old school backpackin’ and “Flashing Lights” reminds me of the roller-skating rink, the former’s navel-gazing and the latter’s tossed-off reference to Hurricane Katrina highlight what gets under my skin the most about this album.

The moment this man said “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” he became the new Chuck D. He’s seen as the anchorman for the hip-hop newscast (I’d call your man Ghostface and Clipse the on-the-street reporters) by everybody from the little black kid going to school in Bronzeville to Mayor Daley.

So isn’t it time for him to dump the introspection, and start talking about the world around him on his records? (Or, at least, something besides “Drunk and Hot Girls,” which is probably one of the worst songs I’ve heard all year.)

While Kot and DeRo both note that West’s introspective style and habit of spinning lyrical insecurities into gold albums is a refreshing change from the default braggadocio of artists like Fiddy, I’m pretty tired of how he takes every chance to talk about how he’s not given his due. It’s a joke that isn’t funny anymore.

His public persona would be easier to swallow if he’d bother writing about something other than himself for a change. I’m dying to know what Kanye thinks of predatory lending practices, grandmas raising babies, men who call women “bitches,” or even the troubled business model of the music industry. But what I’m getting is how hard it is to be Kanye. And I just don’t buy it.

I suppose all of this has more to do with what I expected, not what he’s attempted. But as you’ve said, this probably would have purchased if give an advance listen. Plus, criticism is a subjective thing though, and anyone who tells you it isn’t, is a liar.

On subsequent listens, I can set all this aside and can see the easy joy in songs like “Champion” and “The Glory.” But even in the seemingly glowing reviews I’ve read, most see this as a flawed album, and I can’t help but think that it’s because it’s largely built around an already boring topic.

Here’s my question to you P-T Poppa: am I wrong to look at what isn’t there as the basis of criticism of this album? Shouldn’t I cut Kanye a little more slack for being – like Wolverine – the best at what he does, even when he phones it is? Moreover, I’m feeling quite passionate about this album, and I’ve said elsewhere that the resultant passion of the 50/Kanye non-beef is ultimately good for the record industry. And I have a feeling that even though I’ll probably still disagree with it, I’ll find that come the end of this year, it’ll be one of the records that I found most interesting this year. And isn’t that worth something?

Sincerely,
Mr. Smith

From the archives, vol. 3: The unwinnable argument

I know I’m not the only person who feels like this, but when your job is to work with a computer all day, sometimes the last thing you want to do at night is work with a computer, even if your job keeps you so busy that you really ought to be spending some time at home reading blogs and otherwise taking the temperature of the Internet so you can keep up with your chosen profession, which you’re not able to do at work because you have So Much To Do.

Of course, this also makes it difficult to blog regularly. But luckily, I have a wealth of short, punchy blog material from my days at Chicagoist, just aching to be lazily re-posted here.

The following is a post I was reminded of this weekend, while I was at a wedding. I think it’s pretty obvious as to why. Notes follow.
——-
With all the Lollapalooza hullabaloo yesterday, I missed the chance to put in my* two cents into an argument that Richard Roeper started. It’s an argument guaranteed to inflame any barroom in the city when you include just three little words: “…of all time.”

Confusing popularity with quality, Roeper argues that “Sweet Home Alabama” is the “greatest rock and roll song of all time.” His anecdotal proof: its inclusion in a NASCAR video game; its use in a concert by the Duff sisters and a recent movie trailer; and the joy it brings to drunken barroom patrons. What? No mention of its status as a top karaoke pick?

To be fair, Roeper also cites Skynyrd’s “killer” guitar work and ballsy vocals (no argument there) as well as its catchy chorus (so does this make “Since U Been Gone” the 2nd greatest rock song?**). But then it’s back to the movies with Roeper alleging the song’s cultural weight can be confirmed because it was in…Con Air! If countless appearances in the cultural zeitgeist make a song great then ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to nominate James Brown’s “I Feel Good.”

*crickets chirping*

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

We generally worship the ground Roeper walks on*** (his column this week on jerky behavior in bathrooms had guys all over Chicago nodding their heads in agreement) but I thinks he’s got it wrong here. Does “Sweet Home Alabama” kick ass? Hell yeah it does.**** Does that make it the greatest rock song of all time? Well, no. There are plenty of songs that can get a room full of drunks singing in full voice but it’s going to be a while before you see Journey***** or REO Speedwagon getting a call from the Hall of Fame.

But Roeper’s right: The Greatest Rock and Roll Song Of All Time should kick ass. It should have universality to it as well. All people should be able to rally behind its lyrics which have survived time and tide and stand apart from politics or current events. It should be perfect for any occasion be it live concert, baseball game or bar mitzvah.

And that is why AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” is the Greatest Rock and Roll Song Of All Time.

* Chicagoist fans will note that I stripped out the collective Chicagoist “we” here. My name is Our Man In Chicago, and I approved this message.

** It doesn’t, though “Gone” would easily make my top 100.

*** This was true at the time I wrote it, but isn’t now. Between the books and his work on Ebert & Roeper, his column’s suffered for quality. But I’ve been pretty much done with him since he idiotically railed against the Dove campaign for “real beauty.” This post pretty much says it all. I’m not entirely sure which parts of it are mine, and which are Erin’s though I distinctly remember writing the Herb Tarlek line. Actually, the whole thing’s pretty ironic considering all the railing she does about the Sun-Times. Let that be a lesson, kids: insulting a potential employer can lead to $$$.

**** It does, even though it probably wouldn’t make my top 100.

***** This was true at the time I wrote it, and still is now. Every time I hear “Don’t Stop Believin'” I wonder what it is The Lovin’ Spoonful has that Journey doesn’t.