Me-toos: Celine (nationalism be damned), Alanis for confusing a
generation about the meaning of the word irony (nationalism ditto),
Phish (look, turning people onto bluegrass is still no excuse for
turning much larger numbers of people on to hackysack) (no offense,
Amy!), and add the goddamn Dave Matthews Band while you're at it (the
Supertramp of our age).
Plus: Stevie Ray Vaughn, who while inoffensive and sometimes soulful
in himself has inspired the worst teenage guitar boy fantasies since
Jim Morrison. In the same spirit, Yngwie Malmstein. Oh, and why not
Jim Morrison? (And Neil, no pre-punk whining from you.)
Alternate-universe fun: Imagine there's no Beatles. (Or can we at
least imagine *less* Beatles? Puh-leez?)
No way: Joni, who is pretty much responsible for the acceptance of
serious female songwriters since the 1970s, despite her occasional
excesses (and Mingus is a great album too).
I also object to picking on Styx, whose camp excesses are the
source of endless amusement (why next you'll be killing off Burton
Cummings!) The Buckner and Ray Stevens battling blow-offs are beneath
notice.
Pet peeves: Eradicate the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Eradicate Oh
Susanna. Eradicate James Taylor (oh, he already has). Eradicate Paul
Simon - even though I like his stuff at times, I think it would be
healthy. (Well, maybe Graceland can stay - wouldn't be kind to wipe
out all those great African bands along with the little whiner).
Eradicate Will Smith. (Vanilla Ice being too easy). And, despite their
groovetastic moments, eradicate the Wu-Tang Clan, who've dragged
hip-hop kids way off in the comic-book direction.
I was going to go on to Twangcentric eradications but not up for the
fight. Next round.
carl w.
