 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What is the truth? In my opinion truths are based on principles - both scientific and spiritual. No matter how hard one tries to argue, two plus two will always add up to four! This fact is as pure as the four basic elements: Earth, Fire, Water and Ice! So how does one apply these laws to rock criticism? Simple: Let's start with the musical scale, better yet, let's take a single note, any note. Music relies on a series of principles. A piano or guitar needs a pitch to be tuned. Scientifically we use a tuning fork. Spiritually we may ask, "But who tunes the tuning fork?" All I know is you can tune a piano, but... can you tuna fish? Without further ado, the Meisner Manifesto!
What is marijuana's contribution to the world of rock and roll music? Absolutely nothing. Peer pressure to the extreme is what it is. So why is the myth and allure of pot so strong? Simple, it's just like a Club Med vacation. Confused? Follow Brett's logic on this one: You spend a whole bunch of money to travel to some second rate island that doesn't want you there in the first place. Then they feed your watered down margaritas and make you dance - even though you clearly protested against it. Finally you get rejected by all the women on the trip - who all happen to be from New Jersey. Come morning time you awake on the floor of your room in a pool of your own vomit feeling suicidal and nauseous. Meanwhile, some guy with perfect teeth and wind blown hair named Hap scores himself a baker's dozen in primo tail. This cycle repeats itself for 6 days, only getting worse, and then finally when you arrive home and your friends say "How was it, Man?" You say - and here comes my point - you say: "Fucking Awesome!" Now ask yourself, why would I say that? Because you want to be cool, you want to fit in - just like your "groovy" pot experience. But what is the finally destination for musicians who smoke pot? Just ask Kurt Cobain, Elvis Presely and Buddy Holly. Oh, I forgot - they're all dead! Nuff said.
Started by a white guy named Rick Rubin in 1985, rap music had its brief moment in the sun. This form of ilitaracy, often described as poetry hiding behind sampled music, had one positive effect: It allowed young rich white kids the ability to hold onto their lunch money a few days longer as the communication between them and their local thugs improved. This is not a racist statement, it happens to be the truth. But like a drunk party guest who can't find his car keys, rap music continues to overstay its welcome. Now calling itself "hip-hop," rap is trying to buy a new lease on life. I say let's end this charade once and for all.
Wake up people! How long are we going to let this kinda stuff exist? Ask any kid in a record store today who their favorite recording artist is and nine times out of ten these mindless idiots will respond with the names of either Hank Williams or Johnny Cash. Boy, don't you sound special! What's the secret hand shake for this pathetic club. When was the last time you - or anyone you know, for that fact - bought a record by either of those men? Answer: Never! Believing that either of them made one iota of a contribution to rock and roll is like believing in Santa Claus past your 11th birthday. Be a man and face the facts. Do you think someone could really slide down a chimney! Certainly not Johnny Cash. The man in black my ass. You know who wears black? Fat ladies. Johnny Cash is a fat lady. Fat people aren't cool - and they definitely are not rock stars. As for Hank Williams? I'll take Neil Young over him any day.
I was raised a republican. I voted for Reagan. I despise Rodney King. I know Kennedy was killed by one gunman - Lee Harvey Oswald. Having said that publicly, proudly and accurately, the following statement will seem somewhat inconsistent. I, Brett Meisner, have conclusive information that the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America was actively involved in the deaths of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrison. My theories were confirmed in the brilliant and well-researched 1984 film by director Larry Buchanan, titled "Down On Us". In addition to the flawless and highly plausible scenario laid out in Buchanan's masterwork, I have received an number on anonymous documents that indicate that Hendrix may have been killed for being half white (unconfirmed), while Morrison was killed for being half black (confirmed). Still a doubter? Ask your self this: Why was Jim Morrison's grave not moved from it's Paris Cemetery when the 30 year lease ran out in July of 2000? You'll get back to me, I guess...
Hey, Frank Zappa fans, FUCK OFF! Uh oh, I just gave Frank Zappa a song title. Get ready for an overly produced and pretentious song called "Hey, Frank Zappa fans, FUCK OFF!" What did Zappa know - he was too baked to understand a group like Steely Dan. Those who know good music know Steely Dan. The brainchild of Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, Steely Dan made some of the greatest music in rock history. I submit for your approval just a few documents: 1972's "Can't Buy A Thrill", 1973's "Countdown to Ecstasy", 1974's "Pretzel Logic", 1975's "Katy Lied", 1976's "The Royal Scam", 1977's "Aja" - must I go on! This is a band that has consistently delivered the goods for the past 30 years! Hey just 'cause someone is good looking and intelligent, does that make them an asshole? David Hasselhoff is a genius in Germany, but he can't buy a fart in America! Give him a lazy eye and some webbed feet and they'll call him a genius! Quick - turn to your right and count the number of Steely Dan records in your collection. If you say less than three then you're a liar! I hate liars! I love Steely Dan, and so do you. So grab a Red Bull, put on "Katy Lied" and all your sins will be forgiven!
After years of struggle English rocker and former Humble Pie guitarist Peter Frampton sold millions of copies of "Frampton Comes Alive' in the mid-to-late 70's. But what many of you don't know are the facts. Rumor has it - and trust me, all rumors are always true - that one week prior to Frampton's mega live release he was involved in a car accident in Jamaica. The car accident is reportedly to have left him in a coma for over a year. During that year, the album sold extremely well! So well in fact that it made Peter a household name. But Peter wasn't there to enjoy it. He was in a coma! Fame, by definition, means social acceptability and privilege. What, did Peter get an extra bed pan! Upon release from the hospital Peter was ushered onto the closed set of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" where he would star with the infamous, and widely speculated lip synching band the Bee Gees. Unable to use his fame - and therefore not having fame - Peter proceeded to make one of the worst movies in rock history! His "friend" - and my enemy - journalist and marginal filmmaker Cameron Crowe continued to write favorable articles about Peter! What was in it for him? Who knows. What we do know is that Cameron Crowe LIED about being a high school student to so he could get material to write his straight-to-video "Fast Times At Ridgemont High." So ask your self two questions: 1) Who do you trust, Brett Meisner or Cameron Crowe? And, 2) What was Peter Frampton's last hit song? Nuff said.
While growing up I relied on a number of sources for my rock and roll education. Outside of magazines like "Circus," "Creem" and "Rolling Stone" there were only two other sources that a young man needed. "Don Kirschner's Rock Concert", and Wolfman Jack's "The Midnight Special" - two television shows that brought rock and roll into your living room on a weekly basis. Not just any ol' band - Everyone from Rod Stewart to Black Sabbath! These two shows brought you the cream of the crop. Waiting for those shows to begin was like the anticipation of waiting for the house lights to dim. And more importantly, you didn't get hit in the eye by a two pound Frisbee - Trust me: Sixteen stitches in my left eyebrow from a "Foghat" concert at Nassau Coliseum. In 1980 an new kid arrived in town - MTV. Blinding viewers with overly attractive 'Vee-Jays" such as Martha Stewart (whom I dated), Alan Parker (possibly gay), Mark Goodman (stoned), and the eldest member of the Jackson Five, J.J. Jackson. The American public ate it up like so many spoons of sugar. Did you know that clinical studies show that sugar makes your teeth fall out and also turned rats gay! Keep in mind that MTV helped Rap music gain a foothold. Now, ask yourself: Has MTV helped your life? I didn't think so.
What do you get when you mix a hundred thousand dirty losers with a puddle of mud? Answer: the stench of two hundred thousand armpits! Now add ten pounds of pot, 20,000 hits of LSD, 6 hippies with cameras, four 100-watt speakers, a stage built by chipmunks, and 30 marginal bands - (excluding "The Who.") Answer: You get "Woodstock!" The greatest scam since Ennron or the Moon Landing. The newspapers reported "nearly half a million people in attendance." Who was counting the crowd? Probably the same guy who turned 15,000 knuckleheads into the "Million Man March"? The filmed version opens with fifteen minutes of Richie Havens changing a guitar string! Richie was nice enough to bring his guitar but forgot to bring his teeth - or any talent! Don't believe me? Watch the tape! This eventually segways into another dentally challenged loser named Alvin Lee, who sings a song called, ironically, "I'm Going Home"... for about forty-five minutes. Hey, If I'm going home it only takes about three! Quick: Name one band from Woodstock that hasn't broken into your car and stolen your Blaupunk for crack money! Bottom line: Here's the true test - Reach up and feel your biteplate. Do you have all your teeth? If you do, then you probably weren't at Woodstock. Now, for those of you missing teeth..."WHOSE FUCKING HOUSE DID YOU BREAK INTO SO THAT YOU COULD SNEAK ON THE INTERNET!... As for The Who, it was Pete Townsend who was cool enough to beat a dirty hippie over the head with his guitar during their set. Watch this movie if you don't believe me! You know what? I can't talk about this anymore. I'm starting to feel... dirty.
Imagine for a second that you're a recently displaced journalist who is forced to take a job as a telemarketer at some boiler room named "Wonderland Events" in Woodland Hills. Trust me, you have plenty of time on your hands! You visit Napster and make your selection. Then you get to work. Your day is filled with calling lonely and vulnerable 92-year-old widows in Florida and announcing: "You have won a prize - I just need your credit card number to process the prize application fee." The woman protests, but you reassure her: "Look, your name has been exclusively selected from our database - and 'off the record' - you are headed for a big win!" The woman, not having spoke to another human voice in the last 48 hours, is reassured. She is now curious about what prize she might win. You continue: "Look, right now I see you up for a 30 foot catamaran Sunfish boat or a ten-day cruise in Mexico or a 29-carrat diamond tennis bracelet." Ecstatic, she is a shoe in and she knows it! Then you add: "In the event that these prizes are not available, Wonderland Events will provide a prize or equal value or weight." She doesn't hear that. She gives you her card number and tells you about her grandchildren! You mumble something nice and salivate as the credit card numbers are read. The whole call takes about twenty minutes - the same twenty minutes it took for you to download the latest "Creed" album. Download completed you send the file to your co-worker named Adam - the same guy you suspect sells pot on payday. He burns the album down to a disc. You take the disc home and enjoy the music for free! But - and here is the kicker - you need the cover art! You drive to the local Virgin Mega store to buy the very same CD for $21.83! You win! Napster wins! Creed wins! Everyone wins! Except for Dolores Burnbaum in Florida who receives a bucket of low-grade car wax. Hey, she knew the risks! She didn't have to answer the phone. Is this wrong? I don't think so. Car wax is expensive. Napster rules!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
