I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking Spinal Tap’s new album Back From the Dead makes me feel old because it contains new recordings of songs from the soundtrack to their 1984 mockumentary, which led me to reflect on the fact that 25 years have passed since we were introduced to Spinal Tap.  But no, that’s not why I feel old.  I feel old because as I was struggling mightily to assemble the diorama that comes with the CD/DVD package, I thought to myself, for the first time ever, that maybe I should get bifocals.

That diorama kicked my butt.  I still don’t have it set up properly.  I kinda tore it, too.

The album, of course, is good.  Spinal Tap is, was, and always will be pure gold.  After reviewing the Jonas Brothers, it’s refreshing to listen to an album that’s intentionally funny.  There are some good new tracks, and the lads have done some interesting things with the rerecorded songs.  But really, why rerecord all the old songs?  CJ Vanston, producer for the new album, says,

“Spinal Tap is re-recording the entire first album because they thought the original album was a hatchet job, just like the movie.”

The real answer, I suspect, is money.  Note that the band is releasing the album themselves, without a label for distribution.  I question the wisdom of their strategy in today’s climate of internet file-sharing.  But hey, $9.99 for a CD, DVD, and a diorama is so cheap that maybe people won’t go the Pirate Bay route.  You can’t find a genuine torrent for the diorama anyway.

Oh, speaking of sharing, a heartfelt thanks to all the readers who shared stain-removal tips with me.  My Rush ’74 tour t-shirt is recovering nicely from the Pad Thai incident.

So yeah, if you’re down with Tap, give this a whirl.  Eleven stars.  If you don’t get the reference to eleven, than forget this record; trust me, it’s not for you.

Of course, those are British stars.  At today’s conversion rate, that’s three-and-one-third American stars.

A few months back, as I looked through the day’s mail, I found that the cover was missing from my Rolling Stone. Turned out that my 16-year-old had hung it on her wall, and then my seven-year-old had swiped it for her own bedroom. There was much screaming, hair-pulling, and gnashing of teeth for the next 48 hours, until my wife brought home a hi-res scan for each of them.

Oh, did I mention that the Jonas Brothers were on the cover? Because that’s pretty important to the story.

Fast forward to last week. I was perusing my stack of promo cds and saw that the JoBros had a cover version of Black Sabbath’s Paranoid on their new disc Lines, Vines, and Trying Times.  I normally eschew bubble-gum pop (Hold on – I just really cracked myself up with that pun!), but I loves me some Black Sabbath, and I remembered these kids being kinda funny in a SNL skit with Alec Baldwin, and Alec is really good on 30 Rock, and his cameo in Glengary Glen Ross is pure gold, so I decided to give the disc a spin.

I quickly realized I had been duped. There were exactly –zero-point-zero– Black Sabbath covers on the entire disc.  Paranoid is an entirely different song, which they co-wrote.  Even worse, I splattered pad thai sauce on my white Rush shirt, the one with their debut album cover art. That stuff does not come out. So now I have that to deal with.

The album is competently produced and engineered, and it’s mastered perfectly for a 128kbps stream played through your cellphone speaker. But the music was… not so good. In fact, I really struggled to find a suitable metaphor for the music. I decided to sleep on it, hoping something would come to me.

The next morning I walked into the bait shop and recoiled in disgust, eyes closed, as I was hit with a wall of dead fish stench that made me dry heave for about twenty seconds. One of the live-well aerators had failed overnight, & about 400 chubs were floating belly up.

Once I recovered from the shock and got the windows open, I smiled for the rest of the morning.

[Edit – I had my bro read this. He didn't get it, and he's a pretty smart guy. I mean, he watches Battlestar Galactica, listens to both indie and prog rock, and wears American Apparel t-shirts. On the other hand, he started reading A Confederacy of Dunces and didn't like it enough to finish it, so his sense of humor is somewhat suspect. So anyway, if you didn't get it, don't feel bad. I'm saying that the music stinks like dead fish.]

One star.

Agree?  Disagree?  Let us know – leave a comment!

This is Chickenfoot's album cover. Awesome.

I’m going to review the Chickenfoot album, but I have to warn you right now: I have nothing original to say.  But if you’re reading a review of Chickenfoot, you’re probably not all that concerned with originality.

If you’re a rocker of a certain age, you doubtless have fond memories of the very first time you heard Eddie shred on Van Halen’s eponymous debut album.  Eruption was a watershed moment, a sea change, a cataclysmic occurrence.   The rest of the band was pretty good, too.

Then, a lot of big egos collided, David Lee Roth got kicked out, Sammy Hagar (of I Can’t Drive 55 infamy) came & went, Roth came & went again, Charone came & went…

Meanwhile, we all got older, got jobs, had families, got divorced, went to rehab, got laid off, got our MBA, got a new job, & went on with life.

Sammy Hagar, however, decided his new career as a nightclub and tequila impresario was somewhat unfullfilling.  So he hooked up with fellow Van Halen exile Michael Anthony, über-talented Joe Satriani, and some guy from some other band primarily known for wearing socks on their genitals to recreate his glory days with Van Halen.

Now, Sammy Hagar seems like he’d be a great guy to drink with.  He’s plenty good enough to serve as the next Jimmy Buffett for the just-turning-forty alcoholic crowd.  But as a singer, he has all the range of a Keanu Reaves character.

The musicians all have great chops.  The band is a fairly tight, cohesive unit.  The songs are well-crafted, somewhat catchy, & slickly produced.  Unfortunately, just like me, Chickenfoot has nothing original to say.

Two stars.

Bitte Orca - Every time I watch Gone With the Wind, I genuinely hope & pray that this time, Atlanta won't burn. Sadly, no matter how hard I wish otherwise, Atlanta burns – every time.

Every time I watch Gone With the Wind, I genuinely hope & pray that this time, Atlanta won’t burn. Sadly, no matter how hard I wish otherwise, Atlanta burns – every time.

Every time I listen to Bitte Orca, I genuinely hope & pray that this time, David Longsteth won’t insist on taking really good songs & driving them straight off a cliff, just to show us that he can. Sadly, no matter how hard I wish otherwise, songs needlessly unravel – every time.

Look, I get it, D-Lo: You’re not merely talented. You’re not merely capable of producing good music. You’re a beautiful genius living in a world above us mere mortals, and we ignorant masses should be grateful for every ort you toss our way. You’re e.e. cummings, Kurt Cobain, Bob Dylan, Andy Warhol, Prince, Yoko, & Celine Dion all wrapped up in one enigmatic package. How very.

News flash: Beautiful geniuses do not drop out of Yale; beautiful geniuses never set foot in New Haven.  The Tracy Flicks of the world end up in New Haven.

I do commend you, though. You’ve gotten the entire indie world drinking the kool-aid, just like a musical Jim Jones.

Two-and-a-half stars.

</rant>