Let There Be Rock

There is a very distinct division of musical taste that exists in our new homestead.  Downstairs typically belongs to me during the day as that’s where my home office is located, while the upstairs belongs to my sweetie where she typically does, well, everything else.  Every time I go upstairs, it’s either Maroon 5 is moving like Jagger, Adele is setting fire to the rain, Marianas Trench is falling out, Rhianna is finding love, Karl Wolf is mashing it up, Flo Rida is feeling good, Fun is setting the world on fire, Dru is going to his house in the hills, Angelica Stan is up and down and getting freaky with her Saxobeat, while Bruno Mars is doing God knows what without you….its fucking ridiculous.  But there they are; the eight golden jewels that make up the current popular FM pop radio stations and, quite frankly, they all make me want to blow my brains out.

I’m not saying that we have completely different tastes in music as we’re both old school Blue Rodeo fans and recently discovered Cuff the Duke together but, for the most part, we’re apples and oranges when it comes to musical preferences; although I will admit to now having ONE pop song on my iPod which is not altogether intolerable on my tempo runs (‘Pumped Up Kicks’ by Foster the People).  But, for the most part, I let her keep a tight rein on the upstairs stereo in the evening while we’re together.  I figure it’s a fair trade considering she lets me play my ‘moldy goldies’ in the car.

However, on those occasions when I happen to have the whole house to myself I immediately feel the need to up the testosterone factor a little bit and blast some real manly man tunes from my collection; stuff she’s probably not going to overly approve of.  You know, just because I can without immediate fear of receiving that “are you fucking serious?” look that every guy is prone to get from his sweetheart every now and again. You have to pick and chose your battles and when it comes to music, I choose to be Switzerland.

So without further ado, I give you my current five favorite ‘Testosterone Classics’:

AC/DC – Back in Black

It goes without saying that AC/DC is the ultimate in testosterone-infused rock bands despite their rather, well, often ambiguous lyrical references.  I mean, really, AC/DC, Angus’ little school boy outfit, not to mention song titles like ‘Big Balls’  but, hey, it’s still old-school rock at it’s finest and ‘Back in Black’ is the flagship of all the AC/DC albums in my opinion.  Besides the albums namesake, it also has such primo rockers like ‘Shoot to Thrill’,  ‘Hells Bells’,  ‘Shook Me All Night Long’, and ‘Have a Drink on Me’.  This is best enjoyed at full volume so that the neighbors windows rattle.

Frank Zappa – Hot Rats

It has been my experience that chicks simply do not dig the Zappa.  Can’t say why exactly but, there it is, I haven’t met a single female yet who professes to be a fan.  I mean, literally, the dude literally wrote over 75 albums so you’d think there might be a few more female fans out there, but if there are…I haven’t met her.  Perhaps it’s the often provocative and borderline absurdist approach he took to his music, his rampant political conspiracy theories, or maybe it’s that he just Christened his kids with names like ‘Moon Unit’, ‘Dweezil’, and ‘Diva Muffin’, who knows.  Totally their loss.

Ween - Chocolate and Cheese

Ween - Chocolate and Cheese

Like Frank Zappa, you either love ’em or hate ’em and, normally, chicks swing to the hate ’em side.  Beats me why, but any band who can rock out a song about ‘Spinal Meningitis’ is worth a listen in my book.  Sometimes I will catch myself thinking the same silly thought – “why aren’t these guys as big as the Beatles?”  Then I catch myself giving myself the same silly answer: Well, you know, when the Beatles came out to greet the world, they greeted it with ‘Well she was just seventeen – you know what I mean‘.  But when Ween came out to greet it, all these nitwits could offer it was ‘Mister, would you please help my pony? He’s down and he ain’t gettin’ up.  He coughed up snot in the driveway and I think his lung’s fucked up!‘” Classic.  But what other reasons would you need, then?

Tom Waits - Bone Machine

Tom is the man.  You just gotta someone whose voice was finely honed on a bottle of Jack and a carton of cigarettes a day.  This is an album I’d probably never even attempt to slip on while anyone was ever home, as it’s hellish stampedes of clanging metal and hoarse shouting is likely to give poor HRH  nightmares…and rightly so!

ZZ Top - Rio Grande Mud

This one kind of goes without saying.  I mean, really, they have gnarly beards, drive cool cars, play pink fuzzy guitars and sing classic songs about legs and ass.  What’s not to love?

God help me.

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1 Comment

  1. Hey …. you forgot we both also like old Sting a la “Dream of the Blue Turtles”
    And if we loved the same of everything ….. it would be a totally boring life ! I think we’ve got a pretty good thing going on !

    So really, God help us both 🙂

    Reply

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