Word: craps
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...second half of the album, which strays from typical rock conventions and moves toward a more expressive tone. The latter half also reveals the best of Local H: the guitars, bass and drive that makes you turn up the volume to ear-bleeding level and pound the crap out of your roommates. Save up any frustration before listening and let it loose singing along with both the vocals and the guitar, but be sure to take the occasional soft section as a break, because the intensity with which Local H hits leaves pretenders behind...
...industry dropped me for 20 years," says Mitchell, now 55. "They wouldn't let me in. No matter what I did, they wouldn't let me on the radio [or] on MTV." She says most of what she hears on the radio is "crap." "It's all about Wall Street now. And the record is just a poker chip. And these, you know, artists are going willingly into the slaughter." There are, however, a few things she likes. "Most of my favorite artists are black," says Mitchell, who admires James Brown, Etta James and Duke Ellington. "All modern music...
...opener that experimented with electric instruments and rock and funk rhythms--a strange, primal, remarkable album. Soon, however, a whole generation of musicians was squandering its talents on increasingly vapid (though profitable) jazz-rock hybrids that came to be called fusion. Known today as smooth jazz, or as "that crap they play when Regis and Kathie Lee go to commercial," fusion continues to thrive; it even has its own Billboard chart. But in more sober musical circles, it is considered a kind of moral stain...
...rare glimpse of Morrissey's voice pre-studio refinement. For Morrissey fans it makes for fascinating listening--his voice has never been as versatile and expressive. It's also quite sexy, as the constantly screaming fans in the background emphasize. The talent is there--but the song itself is crap. A guitar in the background chokes out basic chords with an simple Natalie Imbruglia-esque rhythm as Morrissey churns out such drivel as "I danced myself out of the womb...Is it strange to dance so soon?....What's it like to be a loon?... I liken...
...folk, country, rock-'n'-roll, calypso, Latin, honky-tonk, Big Band, reggae, bebop, Tin Pan Alley, zouk, polka singer. He has become a spokesman for those of us who still enjoy being "the people our parents warned us about." For 364 days of the year, we deal with unadulterated crap, but on the 365th, Buffett comes to town and we slip away to Margaritaville. Being a Parrothead isn't without its responsibilities, however. Like Gypsies in the Palace, Parrotheads know that the good times aren't free, that giving back is part of the Pascagoula Run. BETH MEISNER Yorktown...