Willie Nelson and Karen O are two of the coolest (mostly) white people on the planet, but this…this is this. Listen to how hard they mean it, maaaaan.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: queen (Page 1 of 8)
Some venues’ names have magick in them; none moreso than the Hammersmith Odeon.
And that means all of you. 35 years ago, Queen won the day
And just so it’s clear: If you’re still supporting Basketball Head…fuck off. Fuck right the fuck off. Lick my dick, balls, grundle, and asshole, and then eat my undies. You are contemptuous swine, and irredeemable. You are not worthy of my jokes. Fuck off.
Brian May is not all dead, all dead; he has, in fact, kept himself alive as he would like to live forever.
Stop doing that.
BRIAN MAY IS NOT DEAD AND I’M LISTENING TO QUEEN.
Then just say that, man.
Listen to this. Billy was playing with Kingfish(?) in ’85 and the van got snuck in a snowstorm, so–naturally–Billy took the opportunity to do his stand-up.
Read this. Why? Cuz it contains this graf:
But there is more to the Cybernetic Inevitable than this sont of methanasia. There are, in the words of the Poet, “machines of loving grace.” There is, hovering dean far from the burnt metal reek of exploded stars, the intricate balm of Kraftwerk….
Stop drinking cough syrup, Lester.
Read this, too. It’s Lost Live Dead. If you need me to tell you why you should be reading Lost Live Dead, then you’re fucked, Jim.
Watch this:
Life On Mars, Perfect Day, Madman Across The Water, Get It On, and Hey Jude: all the same Bechstein piano.
And watch this man:
I just gotta get out of this prison cell;
One day I’m gonna be free.
Sing it, Fred.
Let’s all put on dresses and take acid and steal cops’ guns. C’mon, y’know you wanna.
Hey, Groucho. Whatcha doing?
“Being manhandled. At least I think they’re men. I can’t tell with the haircuts.”
Those are men, Groucho. They’re a band named Queen.
“Well, that makes sense. They’ve been nothing but princes to me.”
They’ve treated you right?
“Better than my last wife. Or the two before her. Maybe I should marry one of them.”
You could do worse.
“I have. Last wife talked so much I got her drum lessons for the quiet.”
You don’t say.
“And dumb, too. She thought grass was green because it was jealous of trees.”
Hoo-boy.
“Now, what type of music do these boys play? You did say they were boys?”
They’re boys. They play rock music.
“Rock music? I bet they sound bolder every show.”
You still got it, Groucho.
Jaco on bass.
Aynsley Dunbar on drums.
David Sanborn on sax.
Freddie, Brian, and Roger from Queen doing the backing vocals.
Billie Eilish has not heard of any of these people.
(EDITOR’S NOTE: The lovely chaps at Omnibus Press have sent me copies of Ian Hunter’s Diary of a Rock Star and Ian Hunter’s biography Rock ‘n’ Roll Sweepstakes by Campbell Devine, so it’s gonna be both Mottesque and Hooplish around here for a while. You’re free to wander off and check back in a couple days; I wont hold it against you.)
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