Rock & Roll Bus Part One - 10/21/08 - 2:35 A.M.

After much internal debate and personal conflicts I have officially decided to throw caution to the wind and fully engulf myself in a multi-layered program known amongst most respected psychological fields as "Fuck Yes". Once the subject decides to make the move to the other side there is no going back. It seeps into every facet of his/her life and leeches precious time and energy that the person would have used for more important, vital activities such as...reading a book or something I don't know.

My particular "Fuck Yes" began the other week when I found a leaked copy of AC/DC's (sorry the my keyboard does not have a lighting bolt option) new album Black Ice. I can say that I have been personally following the developments of the band for several months now on a "Somewhat Excited" platform. I saw this new album as an opportunity for the band to embark on a world tour of epic, testicle-crushing proportions, and indeed my wish came true...Fuck Yes! For the first time since before I changed my 5pm routine from Dragonball Z to...reading a book or something, AC/DC will be performing in a venue near me.

My father (mentor, guide, lobbyist, gangster) walks my teddy-bear like dog daily with his apple red iPod in hand. It can be safely assumed he is blasting one of the following at full volume.

1. AC/DC Live

2. White Noise inbetween above album's tracks.

So it took little to no convincing to secure my place amongst those in attendance for the November 19th show...

Me: Hey guess what?

Dad: What the fuck do you want?

Me: AC/DC concert.

Dad: What? Yes...yes that is a must...I must go.

Me: We should bring Zack (my brother), that would be a great first concert for him.

Dad: Cute, that way it'll be like a family thing...and you wouldn't have to pay.

Me: Exactly.

Dad: Be online when they go on sale...get them...no excuses...here's my credit card you bastard.

Me: (Smile)

Done and done...anyway so new AC/DC album...sounds almost exactly the same as everything else they've made...Fuck Yes! What would you expect from a typical AC/DC album? Four or more track titles that feature the word "Rock"...check. The "Dirty Deeds" riff passed as something new...check. One or more of the following themes; War, Fire, Women, Money...check.

What more could you want other than Bon Scott (too soon?)? 

In the mold of previous multi-platinum albums from The Eagles and a fractured version of Journey, the album is Wal-Mart exclusive allowing the whore of retail stores to whore out the least whorish of all rock and roll bands. This is a band that has no material on iTunes, rarely, if ever, makes a TV appearance, and would rather get in a bar fight with a 6 foot bear with a semi-automatic rifle then sell-out to anything.

This decision came as a little shocking...

Until of course the logic came out. In interviews each band member defended the decision with the thought that this ensures that the album is consumed as "an album" rather than singles and such. Emphasizing, as Angus Young says, that they "make albums not singles" is the oldest of all Rock and Roll standbys followed by bands such as Led Zeppelin and The Beatles. This thinking is open to debate of which I am on the fence, but will not go into detail about here. 

Slowly but surely the sickness crept up on me. Despite having heard everything from 1975's High Voltage to 2000's Stiff Upper Lip countless times, I found myself pulling the metaphorical shovel out of the closet that is my iTunes...and began digging up what I had so thoughtlessly buried however much time ago.

Suddenly every-time I had anything to do that involved walking more than one block I found myself locked into hardcore, intravenous, listening sessions where the thunder of guns may have very well torn me apart. This was the developing stages of my "Fuck Yes" syndrome.

The AC/DC shirt came out, frequent trips to their website were made, "Let There Be Rock" was played every-time my copy of Rock Band 2 was booted up. But the most maniacal...almost sinister tri-mester of the Rock and Roll child growing within the walls of my fandom uterus was yet to rear it's ugly head...a Problem Child indeed....(cheesy, fuck whoever wrote this).

Scroll down and hit the "Video" tab...look for the douchey looking guy who's wearing sunglasses on a cloudy day i.e. me

The explanation soon...

Titillating - 10/20/08 - 3:36 A.M.

Fuck...it's been a while.

New post tomorrow...most likely involving a band from Australia...who just released a new album...that sounds exactly like all their other albums...which isn't actually a bad thing...or is it? (it's not)

So Far, So Good 5/31/08 2:51 A.M.

This morning I clicked about the inter-web (or whatever you kids call it these days) and checked my various daily, updating sites. You ever have one of those days where you click one site then go to Facebook, then another, then back to Facebook, then another, then back to Facebook, and then somehow mysteriously Facebook again? Well in-between my interspersed bookings I decided to check out the new Metallica web site after a hot tip from Rollingstone.com (a source that basically eliminates the need...for me...) 

James, Lars, Kirk, and...new, Samoan bassist guy are in the process of adding an exciting new chapter to their legacy and blowing a new door open in the way the public receives new music. Following months of unprecedented move after unprecedented move, whether it be Radiohead's "name your own price" technique with "In Rainbows" or Trent Reznor offering up 2 brand new Nine Inch Nails albums in less then three months...for fucking free, Metallica is taking it to the next level. With a tentative release set for September, the as yet to be titled follow up to the (almost) universally panned "St. Anger" will be rigorously documented, filmed, and photographed with the band offering "fly on the wall" coverage as the album is shaped and finalized. This all comes with a nominal fee of course with varying degrees of access (gold, platinum, etc.). 

Upon clicking about I discovered that there was a "free" option in which I could view only a fraction of what paying customers are receiving, but enough to quench my unsinkable metallic thirst. As you may well know, Metallica, more specifically Lars Ulrich, have been lampooned for years now for their involvement as the spearheads of the Napster controversy. That is why it came as a gigantic shock to me when I scrolled down to see, amongst the scores of backstage photos and studio session videos, a free live album recording from a concert in 1983 in Cleveland. FREE LIVE ALBUM FROM METALLICA WHAT THE FUCK! The music industry has to be scratching at the gates of total annihilation if this has happened. Where are the Four Horsemen riding in the sky (ironically enough one of the live tracks is entitled "The Four Horsemen" off of the "Kill 'Em All" album)?

Needless to say I was giddy with schoolgirl joy at this discovery and was even halfway tempted to upgrade my membership. Then I stepped back and realized what had just happened to me. Metallica and their promoters have done something so out of character and so fan friendly that I almost whipped out my debit card in approval. Imagine if every band took this approach when recording a new album? Could this be the new way to market music in a digital age where I could seemingly pay 20 bucks to watch Kirk Hammet sit in a chair, visualize a riff, and then fucking do it for the first time!? Would anybody care? Would the musicians be able to perform the same way knowing they were under constant surveillance? All this remains to be seen, but if you have any interest in Metallica or the music industry and its day by day strides in revolutionizing its methods please visit Missionmetallica.com...and no I was not paid to write any of this...but I am willing to be.

Also check out Rolling Stone's "100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time". Everything from Led Zepplin to The Mars Volta to Eric Clapton to John Mayer (again not paid to write any of this...in fact a lot of that list is bullshit...see if you agree).

The Great Divide 5/29/08 4:01 A.M.

In my always ongoing efforts to try to gain a greater understanding as to why certain people listen to the music that they do it becomes abundantly clear halfway through meeting a new person that more and more these days people have some kind of metaphorical "taste badger" lodged deep within their cranial walls. Take a moment to consider the image of a tiny, microscopic, protect the clan at any cost mammal just kind of hanging out inside the brain of the guy standing next to the cooler at a party. You approach and bend over to grab a beer from inside the layers of ice and ice cold water, and glance casually at this new potential acquaintance and give him a self-affirming nod. Pleasantries are exchanged as you scan this person's exterior looking for any clues or outward insights into what he may like or support so as to interject this into conversation, further extending your connection, and perhaps even propelling this new relationship into a friendship akin to that of all great enduring friendships. The "American Eagle" soaring across his left breast pocket doesn't offer up much information nor does his khaki shorts and thong sandals. The conversation continues as you try to awkwardly angle yourself to see the logo imprinted on the opposite side of his backwards hat (Maybe he's a Yankee fan!?) A hurried panic begins to set in now and your new blossoming partnership has already hit a sink or swim moment. Then like a ray of indeterminable, blinding sunlight, the person notices the "Swan Song", black, Led Zeppelin t-shirt you are sporting and casually riffs in a snarky, self-celebratory mode "Oh ho Zep huh?"

Needless to say this quip catches you off guard. Is he mocking you? Does he have some deep, embroiled, involved story in which such and such happened while he was listening to "The Rain Song"? Or does he really just not know what the fuck he's even saying?

Unfortunately, the aforementioned sunlight curdles back like a wild stallion braying as it extends on it's hind legs avoiding a 10 feet thicket of bushes aflame. 

You really only have two courses of response and they are the following:

a) "Yeah I fucking love Led Zep"

b) "Oh yeah I'm wearing this..."

If you pick option A you are true blue. You wear your colors proudly and don't give a fuck what this guy has to say to you. Of course after that you may have to endure a 13 minute long rant about how some of My Morning Jacket's best songs are as good as anything on "Houses of the Holy" and how lite beer is better than anything else. The backlash is unjust but you walk away tall, strong, and proud.

However, if you were to pick option B, you son of a bitch, you may as well turn in your Rock N' Roll Club Card (which apparently gets 10% off at Wal-Mart now) and prepare for the unending saga of mediocre and bland music that awaits you.

The brain badger of your new compatriot began gnawing away at the lining walls of his cerebellum the nano-second that affronting, bulge swaying, long-haired/winged man extended his arms upwards towards the heavens all across your chest. Much as in the wild the badger protects it's new, unfounded, inexperienced cubs. The young, in this sense, is your friend's fresh new stance on how all brands of popular music suck including anything that he doesn't like. There is no middle ground with this badger. This badger does not fuck around. If it recognizes anything potentially threatening approaching it's defenseless charges, it springs into action and goes wild. 

That is why, even in the most "in-common", of circles the following occurs:

1) Somebody puts on a song from their iPod and amplifies it to fill the room.

2) Most people dig the song and others don't care.

3) The song ends and the opportunity to take control of the sonic scape takes hold.

4) The next person puts on something completely in the face of the last song.

5) Nobody likes the song but everybody says nothing for fear of looking...

a) Uneducated

b) Un-nostalgic

c) Humorless

d) Rhythm-less 

6) The song ends or gets cut off by a new uprising and a silent war breaks out as each new person jockeys for the DJ position as half the night is wasted because somebody was so offended that any person would dare listen to Bruce Springsteen or Tom Petty un-ironically and decided to "enlighten" the crowd with his/her own "deep cut".

Now I realize that you may say in stark contrast that I am guilty of the very same things of which I am condemning and in a way this is true. I'd much rather hear Rory Gallgher's "Messin' With The Kid" at any large social gathering then anything that's on "college radio" right now, but this system of musicology masturbation and hierarchy has been a monkey on the back of anybody who's ever thrown up the horns or attended in a concert in a venue that holds more than 2,000 people. 

With the invention of the iPod & iTunes a new breed of musical awareness has spawned from some dark, leviathan underbelly that classifies anybody with anything too old or too new a clod...a cog in a Wal-Mart machine (remember 10%!). Music and the music industry is changing everyday and so are the people who consume it, thus the quicker you are able to process and eliminate songs and bands, the more educated and liberated and (supposedly) happier you are. 

After living a couple months a New York City and then moving back to central New Jersey it has dawned on me much in the way that it dawns on me each time I meet one of these people that they are extremely insecure and insatiable aspiring towards something they don't know what it is. Whether it be the invisible pursuit to be more important than other people or to leave an indelible mark on the world by parading around with a stern, always contemplative look on their face. This can be a big reason as to why Vampire Weekend was eaten up by every be-speckled, neo-liberal asshole with ten bucks and a new gym-club membership.

This may sound like an un-wavered offensive against the world of indie-rock and it's not-so-underground followers (seeing as they seem to turn up everywhere I go now, i.e. Blockbuster, Quick Chek, etc.), but it's not nearly that cut and dry. The Strokes and The White Stripes both started out as indie-darlings and I can safely say that I would pay out the ass to see either live as of the moment of this writing. Even now, as it betrays my metal sensibilities to say this, my iTunes has seen Tegan & Sara fit in-between Ted Nugent and Tenacious D and Belle & Sebastian squeeze next to The Beatles and Big Star within the past months. 

It's not the music the pisses me off, it's the people who have made into a social club seemingly for one. The oppression of the upper-middle class, white kid with seemingly no other ambition other than to fulfill that sense of entitlement they've had ever since their parents put one of their B+ math tests on the fridge is one that will always be embodied, to me, in the music of the artists they embrace and it's fucking sad. 

On the other side of the coin, one of the major political statements of the nation of rock music has always been a  "If you don't like it shove it!" sort of mentality. It's one that has kept Kid Rock on a record label and Scott Weiland passed as eccentric. It one that has sold out arenas for Van Halen in '88 and the same in '08. It is in the spirit of this that I turn and say to anyone who may approach me in conversation and deem it a favor to me to poo-poo my AC/DC shirt or the Metallica album I'm about to re-purchase on re-released vinyl (just in time for Father's Day!)...Fuck off and instead of making the music a way of putting yourself on a plateau why don't embrace who you really are you callow shits. I hope to see you both in the next pit and at the next acoustic, coffee night.

Stink Weed - 4/21/08 12:05 P.M.

After a widely successful, inaugural Record Store Day, a fresh breeze of calm seems to have settled over the maddening crowds of music executives lining up to jump off the roofs of their buildings. Needless to say this will probably only last for another day or so. Resume the suicide watch and pull back the curtain because it's time for a brief reflection on some current events.

Starting first with the aforementioned RSD. The biggest story stemming from the event, aside from the governor of Maine declaring April 19th "Record Store Day", was Metallica's appearance at a humble California shop. In the studio prepping their as yet to be titled follow up to "St. Anger", the original remaining trio of Hetfield, Ulrich, and Hammet along with new bassist Truijillo, descended on a black clad, booze soaked camp of about 400 superfans waiting to press their heroes for information. The answer to seemingly every question was "fall".

Fan 1 : Hey James when are we going to hear the new album?"

Hetfield : Fall

Fan 2 : Hey Lars when you guys heading out on tour?

Ulrich : Fall

Fan 3 : Hey Kirk can I have your autograph?

Hammet : Fall

Fan 3: What?

Hammet: FALL

So yeah...start growing your hair out and work on your farmer's tan for the fall.

Still crying over the Velvet Revolver break-up (and if you still are for the GNR spilt...get a life)? Well suck it the fuck up and get your audition tape (and coke habit) together. Think Scott Weiland is a pussy? KICK HIS ASS! That's right kids VR is putting together a website in which you the fan (or professional vocalist preferably) can take a chance at rock and roll stardom. The site is set to go up soon and, if there is a God, will feature all the un-Godly renditions of Foreigner's "Hot Blooded" and Motley Crue's "Live Wire".

Speaking of the Crue, they recently undertook one of the more aggressive rock advertising campaigns in recent memory. Last Tuesday, with their new album "The Dirt" still two months away, Motley officially unveiled their new "Dr. Feelgood" era-like single "Saints of Los Angeles" to the masses. They also took advantage of the exploding virtual market by becoming the first band to premiere a new song  as downloadable content on the hit game "Rock Band". As if that wasn't enough for you then guess what? Later on in the day the first incarnation of "Crue Fest" was announced. "Crue Fest", being an Ozzfest with different somewhat sober rockers at the helm will feature Buckcherry, Papa Roach, and of course Motley Crue. AND IF THAT WASN'T FUCKING ENOUGH FOR YOU THEN SUCK...oh wait...they performed "SOLA" on Jimmy Kimmel Live...and it kicked ass. Despite the in your face viral marketing of the Crue it can be said that they are back in a big way, and so far I've no complaints...at least until the Tommy Lee/Miley Cyrus sex tape leaks.

And in yet another annoying "speaking of", as I went to check my e-mail account this morning (because it's usually flooded with all the fan mail) AOL was kind enough to notify me that Disney/Tween Idol Miley Cyrus had yet another set of revealing photos leaked to that pesky internet. Being the 15 year old she is, it seemed a tad uncouth for AOL to be telling me this, but then again I forget what passes as "news" these days. With a convenient embedded link and a desire to rub this in my sister's face I investigated on and found...a normal fifteen year old girl who likes boys, and taking myspace photos. Apparently these "steamy" pics have caused a Wal-Mart Mom uproar but as far as I am, and most logical people, are concerned this is a case of...normalcy. 

Apparently Axl Rose is shopping around for somebody to release "Chinese Democracy"...the world remains unchanged.

And lastly but not leastly, the "Metal Master's Tour" has been announced today with a bill that includes Judas Priest, Heaven and Hell, and Motorhead. If you are not in attendance for some reason other than the following...

1) Coma

2) Space Mission

3) Obliteration Of Genitals

...then your right to throw up the horns or head-bang will be revoked until the next Metal commune. 

Nothing In-particular 4/13/08 - 10:00 A.M.

After a long night of debauched activities, the details of which i won't enclose here, this seems like the most logical thing to be doing (aside from cleaning my house).

Sammy Hagar is a douche-bag.... period. This assertion can be made without the benefit of any prior knowledge of the "Red Rocker's" personal life, business interests, or any other properties that made him remotely relevant. This isn't to say that Hagar was not somewhat responsible for four multi-platinum albums with Van Halen, but let's completely ignore this. Say, hypothetically, that in 1985 Hagar had perished in a very ironic car crash after speeding on 55 mph limit highway. This after, of course, wrapping shooting on the video for his most famous solo single "I Can't Drive 55".

Jump ahead to the year 2008...more specifically April 13th, 2008. It's about 9:50 A.M. and you don't know why you're up so early (if this is indeed early for you because those who know me know it is). So you flip on VH1 Classic hoping to start your day off right maybe with some awesome, D & D style Dio videos or perhaps some gut busting, British steel infused Judas Priest videos ("breaking the law" a common theme both of our subject and our writer). But something has gone wrong...horribly, horribly wrong.

A man is driving a car that is clearly too technologically advanced (I guess?) to have been made in the 70's and too embarrassingly boisterous for anybody other than Hagar (or any other Waboites) to have been caught and pulled over for reckless driving in the 90's. So it is immediately incumbent upon me to monitor this shiny haired man's driving patterns as undeterminable cock rock blasts all around my couch and surrounding territories. This man is noticeably perturbed at the local "squares" who "obey the law" and decide to follow governing speed limit laws. Our golden-glossed proletariat protagonist swerves from side to side trying to pass these abiding assholes. 

At this point in time in my viewing experience, I remembered that I still had to call out of work, located in New York, NY as I was still resigned to my central NJ dwellings (like a pig in shit). A dark, looming beast for anyone ever having to follow any kind of company protocol, the "call-out" is something nobody on either side particularly enjoys (at least until you actually do it and realize subsequently that you do not, in fact, have to go to work...awesome!) This did not aid in my sympathy for this young rebel-rouser.

Eventually after a series of ill-fated attempts to speed up, this mystery man is pulled over on very logical drunk driving suspicions. It is then revealed, much more clearly, to myself and the audience (my dog) that the man in question is in fact...Sammy Hagar.

Then, as if punched in the face by some retro 80's comet, a rush hits me (and my dog) and I suddenly remember the song as Hagar, clad a yellow jump suit, tries to intimidate the lawman by wagging his finger and pushing his golden, leather bulge in his face. The song "I Can't Drive 55" is one that has morally and logically plagued me for years, seeing as with all of the countless global and national issues to be pissed off about at the time...he goes for highway speed laws. This is a clear indication as any as to what this man is all about.

And that is why you don't need to go any further on into this man's life. Mr. Hagar has gone on to live for some 23 odd years now and in the words of an ill conceived, anti-tobacco ad "is still kicking baby" (man I need a cigarette). At the same time the only thing that has changed about him his the length of his hair and, again, four multi-platinum albums with an already world famous band. Point being, and this is true of many rock musicians, Hagar could have died right after that video shoot and you, the general public, would have missed out on little to nothing of what it took to understand Hagar because, in a way, that is how rock and roll works at its core.

So you may want to argue "Well Hagar was just singing about what pissed him off and isn't that what rock is all about". Yes and no...but mostly no mainly because of the subject matter. If I went out and wrote a song about how it pisses me off that every once in a while a McDonald's employee will give me a coke rather than a sprite (happens all the time) with my nugs and fries I would hope the people would lampoon me and my ill conceived single to the high heavens. There are four basic criteria in which successful rock music song-writing all fall under and you'll find this holds true for most of your iPod.

1. Women (Eric Clapton)

2. Drugs & Alcohol (Motley Crue)

3. Fantasy (Iron Maiden)

4. Real or hypothesized social issues (CSNY)

Arguably, "I Can't Drive 55" would have stood none chance in former or latter years simply because people nowadays want a little more brain for their buck (which has brought #4 into the forefront) and people back in the 70's had a constant flow of great music that would have blown the our red friend out of the water, or in this case his knight rider look-alike vehicle. 

Now in reference to my four rules I realize in immediate hindsight that people are going to search for holes (easy to find) so that they may lampoon me to the high heavens. Songs can take on any meaning they so choose and do. The above four rules are only a basic introduction to a much larger supporting umbrella.

Now I also realize that Sammy Hagar is now a relic of a bygone era that is, thankfully, gone for good. But you know what? That video just pissed me right the fuck off and I'm sure if you youtube it right now you'll feel the same. As a very accepting rock music consumer I have embraced countless bands and albums whose themes center around shocking and again pissing off the "straight" people of the world. In the case of Hagar Vs. The People, however, the red rocker is found guilty of douchery on the highest scale because his ethos and his hit single doesn't piss off "straight" people, it pisses everybody off. The sentence, to be resigned to waiting around for any number of sleazy night club gigs or for Eddy Van Halen to call...better prepare for a long night club tour then.

Billy Stipe or Michael Corgan - 3/24/08 9:14 P.M.

Have you ever mistaken Billy Corgan for Michael Stipe (or the other way around)? If you take away (or add) glasses the resemblance is uncanny. Not just because they both happen to have shiny chrome domes, but also in their varying musical styles. The two bread-winning front men for both R.E.M. and The Smashing Pumpkins seem to have an eerily similar approach to the vocal arrangements made in each of their songs. In short, a lot of the Pumpkin's tracks more seminal tracks could definitely be mistaken for some of R.E.M.'s most popular work. 

Now I'm not asserting that I am the first to make this connection. It seems pretty reasonable to assume that some pre-hipster NYU undergrad (bag of douche) got stoned in their dorm in 1993 and listened to Automatic For The People and Siamese Dream back to back, and turned to his pre-med roommate and totally blew his mind with this, admittedly, ill-conceived notion. 

However it is completely unreasonable to cast aside this theory based on personal politics, such as the common listening audiences of both bands, at least in the 90's. 

Getting back to my original statement I know introduce the Disarm/Everybody Hurts argument. Both songs were released as singles within less of a year of each other and both are sung by Stipe/Corgan. Within the history of these two songs there is an interesting paradoxical shift that stipends my argument temporarily, but makes for a fun pit-stop on the road towards whatever it is I do to persuade you (because I have no idea how the fuck that's happening).  Think of it as that moment where you approach a tunnel and lean forward in your seat in anticipation (perhaps to get a better view of the fluorescent lights and wall tiles) only to realize that the FM radio station that was about to play "that song you haven't heard in like forever" will be cut out and the light at the end is about three miles away. 

Despite peaking at #29 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart Everybody Hurts was welcomed in even further by the Brits landing at #7 on the U.K. Singles Charts. Inasmuch of what the numbers show, the song's lyrics have been used to promote U.K. suicide hot lines in response to higher rates and lower calls for help, and in 2006 and British network program entitled "Britain's Favourite Break-Up Songs" listed it as 4th.

On the other side of the scope is Disarm which prominently features lyrics such as "the killer in me is the killer in you" and "cut that little child" causing an understandable misconception between the BBC and Corgan. BBC execs believed the song to imply that "abortion is murder" whereas as Corgan explains it to be about the troubled relationship between he and his parents growing up. As a result the song was banned from TRL contemporary Top Of The Pops and received little to no radio air time. In spite of all this the song still peaked at #11 on the U.K. Singles Charts, maybe proving that people generally want what they can't have (or just maybe because it's a good song). 

 

So what's to be gained by this shameless stat chucking that could have been ascertained from a simple wikipedia search...i don't know...British people mildly enjoy both of these singles? A weak presentation on my part, feel free to launch a free kick to my ass the next time you see me.

 

Let's get down to the bare balls of this essay and assert that within the actual singing styles of these two rock musicians is a uniform construction that both unites and separates them. As individuals let's say that Stipe has a soft, mumble tone in his delivery and Corgan has a varying, nasal quality to his. Within these differences, however, is the trait that brings these two bald, alt-rockers to comparison. Both Stipe and Corgan posses the innate ability to go from zero to sixty in vocal range in much the same sampled in the aforementioned hits those Brits just couldn't get enough of. At about the :50 second interval in Disarm Billy screeches "I used to be a little boy" and the very next second softly coos "so old in my shoes". The same phenomenon occurs with Stipe, but to a lesser extreme, all throughout Everybody Hurts as a back and forth rocking feeling is evoked within the lyrics.

 

In actuality this ethos can be applied to almost every Pumpkins/R.E.M. singles comparison. If it weren't for the enormity of both band's drawing power it's plausible to say that a joint headlining tour of some sort would be almost a perfect match (aside from a multi-million dollar cash Sasquatch). Should this mega-tour ever formulate, of which I will affectionately title 1979 And I Feel Fine, I owe you a sharp leg punch to the anus...fair is fair.