Thank God that my series of posts about the Beachle-bashers has come to an end. Now I can finally get back to punking out the world at large. First off, I’d like to zero in on the Beachle-bashers for a minute. Did you guys realize that what you were doing was the digital equivalent of monkeys picking insects off of one another for nourishment? Because that’s really the way it seemed to anyone with a single functioning neuron. On the forilla. As I’ve said before, if I’d had my way this record would’ve sounded a great deal more like Foster Brooks choking on a full-grown housecat. Seriously, let’s make one thing perfectly clear, so that even the densest of you can attempt to understand. I did not owe you any kind of free record, you fucking entitlement-junkies. You’re lucky that the one I gave you is as flawless as it is. The world didn’t deserve better, and it never will. Kindly get that through your worthless heads and we’ll get along just fine. And let me make another thing clear. Stephen Cole has replaced David Mamet as my arch enemy. Perhaps he thinks there is more talent to be found in his inexpert coverage of the season finale of The West Wing, but I doubt that even he is that stupid. Between you and me, he seems like a bit of a stuffed shirt, if not a Nancy’s blouse. From now on, Stephen, you’ll be known as either Tammy or Mitsy ’round here, depending on what mood I’m in, but I promise to always remind you that it’s you who I’m referring to. And when I’m talking to you, you’d better listen up. Do you hear me, Mitsy? That’s a dog’s name, and you’re my little bitch now. Okay—back to the world at large. I’m still not terribly keen on it, but I’ll live. All righty then, I guess that does it. Top 5 Reasons to Stop Moaning Like Children, Part 1.

1. Power Source - “Dear Mr. Jesus”

  Ah, Power Source. Time-honored source of veritably limitless power. I just can’t express how much fucking POWER this group exuded throughout the 1980s. Well, okay… twist my arm. They were the fucking SOURCE of that shit. They were so fucking POWERFUL, they self-destructed almost immediately. This dismal song of theirs made it to #1 in the States, but only because it featured an annoying, whining little white girl bawling her ceaselessly blackening little brains out about another little girl (most likely also white) who, the song alleges, was “beaten black and blue” by her parents. And like any good, Christian song that fetishizes child abuse, it invokes the name of Jesus loads of times. For a year or so, you couldn’t turn on a Goddamned radio without hearing hundreds of trillions of instances of this little girl begging the Lord to intervene. “Please, dear Jesus,” wept she, “God, sweet Jesus, please just put an end to child abuse, once and for all, and please let this poor, nonexistent little white girl die so that she may live on eternally in your blessed honky bosom.” Hard to believe that people in the ’80s actually fell for this horseshit. Okay, not really. Anyway, we find out that the girl singing the song is also beaten by her mother, which prompts a vocal response from a seriously freakish Michael Bolton-esque singer near the end of the song. It’s so out of place, you’ll almost want to beat a fictitious child to death in retaliation.

2. Clarence Carter - “Patches”

  Clarence Carter, known to his fans as Dr. CC, had a pretty rough childhood. He was blinded at a young age, and still managed to save the family farm. I believe it. Anyway, this is one song that brings a tear to my eye, and since I only have one eye for a tear to be brought to, Clarence’s story means all that much more to me. This song went to #4 in the U.S. in 1970, and up to the #2 spot in the U.K. Even today, it manages to get quite a bit of radio play. Carter taught himself to play the guitar by listening to Lighnin’ Hopkins records, though he is also exceptional on keys. He had a successful run with labels like Fame and Stax, but none of his later singles would do as well as “Patches.” Carter still tours and records music, and he has a new CD which you can purchase by clicking here.

3. Lil’ Markie - “Diary of an Unborn Child”

  Of all the songs about nonexistent dying children, this one is bound to move you the least. For starters, it’s like listening to the audio track from a Bobby’s World episode about prenatal care. But even Howie Mandel wasn’t tasteless enough to write a song this manipulative. As if some clinic-bound teen would actually reconsider her impending abortion on the advice of some Mogwai. God, I hate cutesy, squeaky voices… especially when they’re coming out of overweight Christians who make their living singing for other overweight Christians. This guy has no shame. His real name is Mark Fox, in case any of you want to look him up. Or abort him. Please, I’m begging you.

4. The Kids of Widney High - “Primary Reinforcement”

  Okay—the last thing these kids needed was “primary reinforcement” from some crazy bitch named Barbara. Somehow, a group of retarded kids were coerced into making this record, and it’s since become the stuff of outsider music legend. From what I gather, these kids weren’t exactly thrilled about being exploited in such a way, but what the Hell could any of them do about it? This record is so tasteless, it’s not even not funny. From the tacky synthwork to the asinine lyrics, it’s really quite amazing that anyone aside from retarded children worked on this album. It’s equally astounding to consider all of the takes that didn’t make the cut. Just what in Christ’s name were these people thinking? Money… that’s what. The Kids of Widney High shouldn’t exist, but fortunately for us they had no other choice. And fortunately for them, they’re probably no worse for the wear. Let’s hope Barbara is dying penniless in some gutter.

5. Dolly Parton - “Me and Little Andy”

   What is it about songs in which adults sing in annoying, squeaky voices? And why do the children they’re pretending to be always have to die so wretchedly? This song is one of those that sank their treacherous claws deep into my brain at an early age. Dolly sounds so creepy singing this number, it’s almost as if she wanted to teach us all a valuable lesson about the seriousness of child neglect. Of course, according to the lyrics, Dolly does absolutely nothing to save the frostbitten child. (Not to mention Andy, the kid’s insouciant dog.) Since this song, like so many others, is a shameless work of tug-at-the-heartstrings-style fiction, I like to imagine that there is a lost verse in which it is explained that Dolly’s character was as helpless as anyone, trapped in her lavish home beneath the snowdrift. Then I like to imagine that Dolly must eat the child and wear the dog’s skin to keep from freezing to death. Then, I like to imagine that Dolly perishes anyway, many painless years before starring in 9 to 5. And then Dabney Coleman stumbles in and consumes Dolly. This song would’ve been so much better if the kid had survived, only to sue Parton for not driving her to the fucking hospital.

  You know, I’ve gotten a few death threats because of the Beachles, but no one took Clayton-hatred further than one sad little guy, a dreary twist of a man by the hideous name of Kirk Benbenet. Or something like that. He’s written me in excess of three hundred letters in the past month, but that’s not even the beginning. Kirk had the nerve to sarcastically call my Mrs. Miller post “cutting edge.” Well, yes, Kirk, it is  significantly more cutting edge than your website, truth be told, and unlike you, I’m not going to spend the rest of my days impotently endeavoring to dissect this record. It’s been made, downloaded millions of times, played on the radio, listened to, and enjoyed by people vastly more intelligent than you. And the world can never have too much Mrs. Miller, jackwipe. Kirk’s also tried to slip in thousands of links in my posts’ comments. He has so much free time, it’s a wonder that his tragic “visual art” site has received even a single hit. Probably mine. It looks like a preschooler’s homepage, so I won’t bother fulfilling his dream by linking. And people wonder why I moderate my comments. I only censor for style, guys. One need merely be articulate, friendly, or insane to make the grade around here. I’m not going to be a Great Big Referrer to your wee widow website, Kirky. Have a gweat wife. You know what to do. I’m not going to spell it out for you, but it starts with “suck,” and it ends with a very important part of my masculinity. Now, it really does seem to me that far too many people spent far too long explaining why my record made them impossibly stupider, but aren’t there better things to worry ourselves over? War, famine, disease, lycanthropy, Republican pedophiles, gay marriage, whatever turns you on. Didn’t you guys have better things to cry about for the past month? Like your lives—you know, shit like that? It’s the Internet, so get with it. Embrace it like the good little robots we are. Here’s a gift to get us started: Top 5 Aural Substantiations of the Anthropomorphization of Robots, Part 1.

1. Connie Francis - “Robot Man”

  Connie Franconero, a.k.a. Connie Francis, recorded more songs than any female performer of her day. She informed the world of her struggles with bipolarity in her autobiographical tell-all, Who’s Sorry Now?,  but somehow she still manages to pull crowds of 5,000 in Malaysia. This tune is perhaps the earliest sonic exploration of robo-human intimacy, but I’m not sure why that would matter. The last thing anyone should want to see is this woman having a go with a robot. I never much liked the showiness of Connie’s put-on country drawl, either, but this song delights me to no end. Probably the line about the “robot tree,” or whatever the Hell she’s talking about. Being from Texas, I am allowed to criticize fake southern accents, you know. Especially since I sound more like a northern Californian who lived in St. Louis for a summer. Connie’s from Newark, New Jersey, by the way.

2. Rufus Thomas - “Funky Robot”

  Be sure to click on this picture to enlarge it, and then look closely at the guy to Rufus’ left. I want that damned outfit. I swear to God, I’d wear that shit to the grocery store. Okay, this is more a song about the robotization of anthropoidal varmints, but who’s counting? Rufus Thomas had some of the greatest dance numbers in history, and this is one of them. So many classics, in fact, with so many amazing titles, that I may have to write a short history and include some more songs in a later post. He even has a street named after him in Memphis. He’s just that  right-on. This song is most likely the first to refer to any kind of “robot” as a dance move. The fact that it’s a funky one makes it that much more appealing. And believe me, Rufus meant it. If you failed to do any number of funky items or barnyard animals, you were just a huge disappointment to him.

3. DEVO - “Mechanical Man”

  Like Negativland, DEVO borrows its name from The Book of the Subgenius.  Or maybe it’s the other way around. Hell, I don’t know. Look it up. Unlike Negativland, they were a #1 pop band. And don’t forget to capitalize all the letters in their name.  Just as Esquivel!’s name must always be followed by a huge exclamation point, so must DEVO’s name remain in caps. It wasn’t until their recent greatest hits collections started coming out that the band’s name appeared in title case, and that’s either a major oversight or an indication that they’ve matured as a band. Maybe a touch of both. Anywho, this song needs no intoduction. From Hardcore DEVO,  I now introduce DEVO’s excellent “Mechanical Man.”

4. Oliver Onions - “Miss Robot”

  Even more robosexual tendencies. Maurizio and Guido De Angelis made quite a splash in the 1970s. They composed and performed on many soundtracks, including some for Ennio Morricone, and arranged for the most popular Italian vocalists of the day. They took their name from a noted British author, whose horror novella The Beckoning Fair One  was an obvious inspiration for Stephen King’s The Shining. Funny thing is, to my knowledge King’s never mentioned it in any interviews. I’m sure the original Onions wouldn’t mind, as Beckoning  is a billion times the story King’s is. And if George Harrison can steal a riff every now and then (or even a whole song) I suppose King can get a pass. From somebody else, though, ’cause I’m not giving him a Goddamned thing.

5. Fabulous Poodles - “Bionic Man”

  I may be cheating on this one. The title character is really an android; not a robot to whom human characteristics have been attributed. No matter. This song is goofy and fun, and Fabulous Poodles had a pretty good thing going for awhile. Don’t ask me why this song was chosen for so very many ’80s compilations. No material aside from outtakes has been released subsequent to 1979, and their evocative sing-along “Tit Photographer Blues” is far more subtle. They had three records in the ’70s, opened for Tom Petty, and were known for their wild antics onstage. If you count the worthless American repackaging of their first two records, they had a fourth release, but I’m not sure that the States took notice. We were too busy eating scabby TV dinners and watching Gabe Kaplan at the 1978 World Series of Poker.

  You’d have to be a complete moron to think that the Beachles were intended for mass consumption. I’ve mentioned this a few times on the radio in the past month, but I feel that it can never be said too often. This week, kind and gentle reader, I present the second of three posts dealing with Beachlephobia. Stephen Cole of the CBC opined that the record was a “punishing failure,” in spite of the fact that he only listened to the first track. As reviews go, I’d say his was the most punishing failure I’ve ever witnessed. This is the noisiest record to get this much attention in a very long time, and that makes it a remarkable success. But there seems to be a pattern among mainstream news reporters, as the wretchedly named Lauren Gitlin of Rolling Stone  also slammed the piece, though she admitted to hearing only “a few” of the record’s fourteen tracks. Needless to say, I was writing better copy than theirs in the bathroom stalls of my elementary school. I’ll bet the two of you think that Merzbow is some kind of exercise machine. So, here’s a free bit of advice. Unless you want to suck my cock like everybody else, Lauren, I suggest that you service Stephen’s withered pudenda while he orally evacuates your gargantuan, schnitzel-famished rectum. You’ve just made the greatest hall of shame that this nutty series of tubes has to offer. Get some fucking lessons in arts reporting, and stop pretending to know what you’re talking about. Top 5 Reasons Why Being in Tune is Wildly Overrated, Particularly by Those Who Don’t Know a Hairpin from a Hemidemisemiquaver, Part 1.

1. Mrs. Miller - “A Hard Day’s Night”

  Elva Miller was a middle-aged grandmother when she recorded her first album, which sold a quarter of a million units in just three weeks. But that’s not the strangest part. Miller was an exceptional vocalist, and she could hit astounding operatic highs. Capitol Records listened to her demo, and thought it would be funny to use bits of her worst takes and early rehearsals, edited together as an “experiment” in novelty. She would later admit that she’d been unaware of Capitol’s sadistic intentions, and politely confessed that she had “resented it.” Of course, the plan worked, and Miller soon gained reputation as “the worst singer in the world,” yet she’s attracted an impressive fan base over the years. She appeared on countless talk shows, as well as a film with Roddy MacDowell. Her cover of Petula Clark’s “Downtown” even graced the Billboard charts for a time, but her success was short-lived. After being dropped by Capitol, she recorded Mrs. Miller Does Her Thing for Amaret, who attempted to transform Elva into a kind of desperate psychedelic in-joke. As with her Capitol stint, Miller was kept in the dark until after the record hit the shelves, but Amaret’s strategy was considerably less effective. She died in 1996, and is fondly remembered by all who knew her as a lover of music and a generous contributor to many charities.

2. Buckner & Garcia - “Do the Donkey Kong”

  More than twenty years after its release, Pac-Man Fever remains one of the most ill-conceived records in music history. Jerry Buckner and Gary Garcia were childhood friends growing up in Akron, Ohio. Garcia played with the late ’60s band the Collection and Buckner was a member of the rock band Wild Butter, who were signed to United Artists but never managed to break nationally. The two moved to Atlanta, where they began writing jingles for radio and television, but it wasn’t until 1980 that they scored a minor place in the Billboard charts with their holiday single “Merry Christmas in the NFL.” In December of 1982, CBS expressed interest in one of their songs about a certain video game icon, and they asked the duo to record a full-length. The resulting album carried the same name as the single, Pac-Man Fever, and it was recorded in just two weeks. Thanks to their hit theme from WKRP in Cincinatti, the boys had two singles on the Billboard Top 100 at the same time. Gerald Mann even recorded a German language version of Fever, and the two seemed destined for greatness until CBS pulled the plug on their stirring tribute, “E.T. I Love You,” in favor of Neil Diamond’s own shameless Spielberg suck-up, “Heartlight.” Undeterred, Buckner & Garcia re-recorded Fever in 1992. Not sure how it sounds, and I sure as Hell don’t want to find out. This song, the second single from the album, is an awe-inspiring ditty; arguably in tune, but God knows why.

3. The Dead Milkmen - “Instant Club Hit”

  The Dead Milkmen are one of the greatest bands of the 1980s. More than a comedic punk band, the Philidelphia group attained pop fame in 1988 with their single “Punk Rock Girl,” but many of their songs are more infectious and mean-spirited, notably “Life is Shit,” “Watching Scotty Die,” “Takin’ Retards to the Zoo,” and “Ringo Buys a Rifle.” Like Culturcide, the Milkmen had some timely responses to the decade of utter horseshit, and this song is one of the finest examples of how diverse and whimsical they were, musically speaking. While most of their songs were elaborately conceived and executed, this became a DIY anthem for every kid who hated Bronski Beat. With its use of a simple drum pattern and disaffected backup singers, it is painfully appropriate. Not necessarily one of the better songs of their career, but indisputably one of the more direct and meaningful. God bless these guys.

4. The Shaggs - “Philosophy of the World”

  Like Mrs. Miller, the Shaggs have an unfair reputation for being one of the worst musical acts in history. Still, that didn’t stop Frank Zappa from saying that they were “better than the Beatles.” Or did it? Either way, I strongly disagree, but they certainly aren’t as bad as most people think. Not even close. For starters, their songs are indefatigably unique, which is and has always been an uncommon attribute, and the unmistakable purity of their lyrics and music is a strangely compelling force. The story goes that Austin Wiggin, Jr., got the bright idea to force three of his daughters to quit school and become rock legends. The girls took music lessons and began performing live, and they recorded only one album, Philosophy of the World.  Wikipedia  refers to them as “amateurish,” yet, at odds with this presumptive description, explains that there is a resounding consistency to their music, a mark of maturity in songwriting. And whether you like them or not, the Shaggs will be remembered for generations to come, having been the subject of scholarly articles, a popular musical, and even a forthcoming feature film. Here is the title track of their debut, and it’s as positively wonderful to behold as it is debatably unlistenable.

5. Paul Anka - “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

  Paul Anka may be able to sing in key, but he definitely shouldn’t be allowed to do ironic big band covers of contemporary pop songs. There should be a law against this sort of thing, just as pep rally punk bands should be prevented from doing covers of TV themes and breakfast cereal jingles. It’s not as if Anka needs any more recognition. He wrote the English lyrics to “My Way,” had several hit records such as “Puppy Love” and “Diana,” and is quite possibly the only famous Lebanese-Canadian entertainer in history. Anyway, this song is taken from his ghastly collection of (you guessed it) ironic pop-rock covers, Rock Swings,  which reached the #9 spot in Great Britain. I swear, this Britain place is seeming less and less great every motherfucking day. For this album, Anka chose songs by Soundgarden, Billy Idol, Michael Jackson, Van Halen, Lionel Richie, Spandau Ballet, Bon Jovi, and the Cure. He even covered “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor. I mean: did Pat Boone tell him to make this? If this song doesn’t do your head in, nothing else can. And believe me, I don’t recommend playing this for anyone, including yourself.