Rant: Where for art thou Coachella lineup announcement?

I awoke today giddy like a tot on Christmas morn, as today was the day the Coachella lineup was to be revealed! So I checked the Internet before I left for work around 8 a.m. Nothing up yet. Once (chained) within the confines of my "cubicle," I started seeking the info at various sites supposedly in the know around 10 a.m., the time when good things usually seem to happen (you know, ticket onsales, traffic-free highways, etc.). No go. All day I searched, and I and sought, and I hunted, only to find nothing but dissatisfaction and frustration, eventually learning that the announcement was postponed until tomorrow. I guess that makes this very moment that I'm writing this Christmas Eve. A last-minute delay certainly doesn't bode well for the lineup. But if it takes an extra day (or seven, or 21) for the promoters, Goldenvoice, to sort out a kickass batch of headliners, so be it. But only as long as that Paul McCartney: headliner, remains a rumor, thank you. To tide myself over, I checked out the Coachella message board which is teeming with all kinds of fun folks. Best message board thread ever: click here.

Rant: The Grammy's - beggers can't be choosers; or can they?

So maybe I shouldn't bitch about the Grammy nominations announced today because a) my favorite band is up for five awards and b) I don't give a shit about a Grammy. But I have to admit my panties did bunch up when I saw that the Radiohead song chosen for nomination in the Best Rock Performance By a Duo or Group With Vocals category was "House of Cards." Amazing song, and In Rainbows is up for Album of the Year. But it also makes me wonder: Why "House of Cards" of all tracks when there's "All I Need," or even more worthy, "Reckoner." Don't tell me that this has something to do with the song's use in NBA playoffs promo ads earlier this year. Or maybe I just told you. Suspicious Grammy nomination No. 2: Would M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes" be up for Record of the Year if it hadn't been played in those Pineapple Express trailers all summer? How much does a song have to be crammed into the public consciousness via commercials and other advertisements before it can be nominated for a Grammy? Call me a cynic, but it's hard to take awards shows like this seriously. I do, however, get a slight kick out of the fact that a Grammy is awarded for Best Album Notes. All right, album notes writers. And how about that mouthful of a category, Best Rock Performance By a Duo or Group With Vocals? I think I'll nominate that lengthy moniker for Best Worst Short Awards Category Name. Take that, Grammys.

Rant: "I wah wah wah wah wonder": The corrosive torture that is Del Shannon's "Runaway"

Honey children, I think we've got a Patrick Bateman in our midst. You know, the serial killing type whose penchant for pop music almost disguises a love for penetrating viscera with steak knives, but not really.

I bring this up because here I sit working studiously in a room on the sixth floor of the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. library in San Jose, and what is it that's providing the soundtrack to my noble pursuit of rock music news?

Why none other than Del Shannon's 1961 number one Billboard hit "Runaway," on repeat, seven times and counting.

I guess the guy in the next room likes that song. A lot. Sample lyrics:
"And I wonder--
I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder,
Why,
Why, why, why, why, why she ran away,
Yes, and I wonder"

Coupled with high-pitched staccato keyboard stylings a la "dooo doo doo doo/ dooo doo doo doo / doo doo doo / doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo doodoo / dooo doo doo doo / dooo doo doo doo / doo doo doo doooooooooooooo," this has got to be the most annoying two minutes of music ever written.

And surprisingly, the guy next door so enamored with Mr. Shannon's ode to love woe is young, clean cut and wearing glasses -- so not visibly insane. I don't know, are people who wear glasses capable of murder?

On the eighth "Runaway" go 'round, library security dropped by to deter the transgressor from a ninth spin, but dude keeps playing it.

Maybe I should offer up my relationship counseling services.

Family, friends: If I don't pick up my cell, 911 ain't no joke.

Rant: Why rock radio makes me want to eject the contents of my stomach out of my mouth

OK. So this complaint may be akin to kicking the crap heap when it's already down - and I'm talkin' reeking gutter garbage, completely unredeemable, olestra-induced anal leakage trash. But during an innocent attempt to pinpoint a soundtrack for a run-of-the-mill car-parking exercise tonight, I stumbled upon 107.7 "The Bone," which was in the midst of airing, for all classic rock-loving Bay Area ears, "Crazy Bitch" by L.A. glam rockers Buckcherry. Hellooo, nausea. Now it's not that Buckcherry's music is necessarily unbearable. Sure, their songwriting shows all the complexity of a mascara wand, but it's to be expected. But what, pray tell, is up with these appalling, inbred, misogynistic lyrics, and rock radio's wholehearted embracement? Sample: "Hey!/ You're a crazy bitch/ But you fuck so good I'm on top of it ... Baby girl/ You want it all/ To be a star you'll have to go down/ Take it off/ No need to talk/ You're crazy but I like the way you fuck me! ... You jump in bed with fame/ Another one night paid in full/ You're so fine/ It won't be a loss/ Cashing in the rocks/ Just to get you face to face." Blech. Yeah, Buckcherry are good ole boys who must revel in all the groupie sex their dicks can withstand, seeing as how their later years (coming soon!) won't be clouded with memories of critical acclaim, winning awards or having created music featuring the slightest sapling of creativity. And way yeah, corporate radio does still suck. But the song's message should make all people, not just women, vomit. To be "stars," ladies, apparently entails getting on our knees. Oh, what crazy bitches we are! How could I resist the allure of fucking a rock star who treats me like a prostitute? Now, I'd never advocate censorship, but do people actually enjoy singing along to this primitive babble, and is it popular enough to merit radio airplay? Keep in mind, this song isn't some flashback to '80s hair metal - it was released in 2006!?! Actually, maybe ignorance is bliss and inquiring minds don't really want to know.

Rant: Just say no to album skits

It's a bad sign when you bring a CD home and have to skip through at least half of the tracks. Skits, exclusive mostly to rap and hip-hop, are wastes of album space if you ask me. Sure, many attempt to tickle our penchant for the funny ha ha, and try to satiate an MC's need to flaunt unacknowledged comedian skills. Others supposedly act as transitions between songs to facilitate a more complete album experience. But although some listeners find slight appeal (check the ScratchLIVE forum for a debate on the best), I consider skits misleading (20 songs on that CD! Oh - 10 are just skits) and distracting from the actual music. If I wanted a talkie, I'd go watch a movie.

Rant: Survey says! Surveys suck.

Led Zeppelin fans apparently will be voting imbecile when it comes time for the November presidential election, or at least that's what a survey released Wednesday would like us to believe. According to a Web poll of more than 27,000 rock radio listeners conducted by Jacobs Media, a consulting firm that studies rock stations, classic rock enthusiasts tend to vote Republican while alternative fans lean toward Democratic candidates. Behold John McCain's new slogan in '08:

Abstinence, the war on drugs and rock 'n' roll

I won't hold my breath. I have a hard time buying that someone's allegiance to such progressive and free-thinking artists as Pink Floyd and Jimi Hendrix directly correlates to endorsing a warmonger like McCain. The survey's conclusion and the way data are being interpreted is flawed. It's not musical preference that controls a person's political alignment, but rather, listening habits play a secondary role to more decisive voting factors like age and wealth. Older radio listeners - the kind who tune in to classic rock stations more often than modern alternative due to a generational gap - likely have more money, and thus are more inclined to want to protect their almighty dollar by voting Republican. And folks, that's not news. I'm sick of these bullshit sociology methods gone stupid so willingly gobbled and digested by media, who report misleading generalizations to the public as gospel. Surveys suck. Disney fans and hunting aficionados, however, take heart: The poll also revealed 11 respondents pick Mickey Mouse, and 3 Ted Nugent, as the best presidential candidates come November. And to think I didn't take this survey seriously!

Rant: And on the seventh day,God refused to give refunds

For all the pouty hipster mouths glued to the ass-tight pants of indie record stores and their supposedly "generous" return policies, I'm proud to say my lips will refrain from getting in on that action. Not when I'm denied a full refund on virgin CDs never once removed from their cozy, plastic bag wombs. Take a peek at many an indie music shop return policy: No refunds. Only store credit. And returns must be brought back within seven days. Are these beloved shops trying to trick me out of my money? Where is my satisfaction guaranteed? Yet despite this screwery, the part that draws drools from many consumers is that some stores offer a deal big-time corporate whore behemoths do not: 75% store credit on a return for any reason - helpful if parchance you bring a record home, deem it unfit even to line the bottom of a hamster cage and subsequently want to secure some capital toward a better musical choice. It's a nice gesture, but inconsistent with the "are you sure you don't want my first-born as well?" no refunds policy. Now I understand stores not wanting to have repeat run-ins with bargain bin craptastics like Tracy Bonham or NKOTB, or accepting returns of any used item for that matter. But what if I purchase a brand new $30 vinyl of "In Rainbows" for a friend, pre-discovery of the fact that they already own a copy. Can't I return this unopened, totally sellable-for-full-price record for a complete refund so that I can buy said friend a strawberry ice cream cake instead? According to Streetlight Records, Rasputin's and Amoeba, I am shit out of fucked. Break out the gyp stick and bend over. And the stipulation that all defective merchandise be brought back within seven days? What if "life" happens; I lag and don't bust out the latest Holy Fuck CD until eight days after purchase, only to discover that the CD itself is mechanically bunk? Will they really refuse my demand for a functional disc? Let's be reasonable. I'd expect some forgiveness. In the words of Jesus Christ and Uncle Jesse, "Have mercy." All I'm saying is why not expand that defect policy to at least an entire month? Also, give back all my money if, heaven forbid, I change my mind after buying a new item. Honestly, I am usually giddy leaving a record store and rarely have returns. It's just nice to have the option. And the prices those power-mad geek swindlers behind the counter accord for trade-ins? Don't even get me started.

Rant: 311's "Beautiful Disaster," the lyrical equivalent of a sweaty sock

A mentally disturbed cretin appears to be stalking me. For the past few days, the moment I jump in my car I notice this yahoo following me, tormenting me with the most foolish words I've ever heard. This omnipresent plague of humanity is none other than the 311 song "Beautiful Disaster." In an age when people can use their thoughts to change a TV channel and french fry oil can power a car, I don't understand how human intelligence could rubberstamp a song with lyrics as inane as 311's "Beautiful Disaster" for airplay. San Francisco modern rock station Live 105 plays it at least 105 times a day, seemingly every time I'm tuned in. It was originally released a decade ago. Hasn't enough music, good music, been released in the last 10 years to prevent this drivel from creeping onto the airwaves? Now, I acknowledge that much of what's on the radio is crap; but this song is pure scum, startling enough to merit an entire blog posting. While most of the lyrics are pukeworthy, a few phrases especially make me want to stab my eyes out with hot pokers, both because of their content and their delivery. For example: "I try to be not like that/but some people really suck." First of all, "I try to be not like that" doesn't make any sense. It's a gross defection from grammar and the English language, and isn't sung in a cool enough way to justify its glaring heresy. And please -the artistic freedom defense doesn't hold up here. I don't think "some people really suck," will ever masquerade within the realm of lyrical poetry. Check out what pops up in the final verse: "I try to be not like this/but i thought I'd make a good song." Brotha, whatchu doin'?!? You don't reference your thought process on songwriting within the song itself. Save it for another platform, buddy. But besides the asinine lyrics, lead singer Nick Hexum, who wrote this abomination, stretches out the last syllable in each line of verse to fit the music: "I might do that stuff if/it didn't make me feel like shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit." It's maddening! Just as he strains to sing the damn song, we the listeners must also strain to not stick aforementioned hot pokers into our ears as well. Answer me this: How did these lyrics sneak past so many checks and balances - other band members, producers, radio station personnel - and be deemed fit enough for mass consumption? Granted, I don't expect much from either 311 or FM radio. But how long must we put up with this garbage? What is it still doing on the radio today? Devolution is alive and kicking in '08.

Rant: Bring me the heads of scalpers

Looking for concert tickets to a sold-out show should be frustrating. Duh, obvious. But no part of browsing the Craigslist tickets for sale section pisses me off more than coming across one particular word in posts: offer. “Make me an offer.” “E-mail me your best offer.” It’s faux kindness is what it is. Offer, ha, what a nice inviting word for such a dirty act of greed. Let’s not pretend you are being generous and letting me name the price. You’re not fooling me, shitknocker. Here’s an offer: How about you sell me the tickets for face value, jackass? Then I won’t write you off as a supreme fucknut dickface who will one day be rimming satan's asshole within the burning confines of hell. Did you know that in Singapore a scalper is flogged 76 times before being fucked in the ass until it kills them?