Posts Tagged ‘Def Leppard’


Heavy Rotation Vol. 28

December 20, 2009

Well, it’s that time of year. Only x number of days left until Xmas. (x=not enough)

As an alternative to my usual rambling introduction, I’d like to instead highlight my blog partner, RF Interference. While he may not be able to squeeze in a post edgewise, he did outdo pretty much everything I’ve done this year with this:

Thanks to RF, I am now the proud owner of an autographed copy of FIRE ICE: A Kurt Austin Adventure by none other than CLIVE FUCKING CUSSLER. How awesome is that.

Let me just give you a small excerpt of Mssr. Cussler’s prowess:

“Sandecker flashed a barracuda smile, but an icy coldness crept into his authoritative blue eyes as he prepared to rip Tingley to shreds.”

The man has never met an adjective he didn’t like.

Thanks for that, RF. Truly an awesome gift.

On to the music.

Previous versions here:
The Heavy Rotation Archives

Kraftwerk – Ohm Sweet Ohm
Last time Kraftwerk made an appearance in the Heavy Rotation, they were using banks of vintage electronics to crank out Black Sabbath-esque heavy metal. This time around they’re wringing raw emotion from their collections of wires and chips.

Much like Trans-Europe Express, Ohm Sweet Ohm works as a travelling analogue. The pace starts slow, as if moving tentatively but picks up the pace as it nears its destination. It calls to mind someone making a long journey back to someone they love, having been away far too long. The first moments are almost hopeless, as though the distance is too far and will never be reached, but as the trip continues and the destination nears, the pace and elation increase, anticipating the reunion.

Magnetic Fields – Yeah Oh Yeah
Well, I don’t mean to go so dark so fast, but don’t let Stephen Merritt’s perma-funk scare you away. As the mind behind the Magnetic Fields, Merritt has cranked out hundreds of darkly funny/tragic love songs. Well, love is often the key, but it’s usually unrequited or completely gone.

This ode to the creeping hate of a long-dead relationship comes soaked in reverb and features a duet/duel from the two protagonists. You know, just for a little added heartbreak. Has a bit of a Galaxie 500 feel to it, all airy vocals and lightly strummed (and lightly distorted).

I’ve enjoyed making you
miserable for years
found peace of mind in
playing on your fears
How I loved to catch your gold
and silver tears, but now my dear
What a dark and dreary life
Are you reaching for a knife?
Could you really kill your wife?
Yeah Oh, yeah
Of, I die, I die, I die!
So it’s over, you and I
Was my whole life just a lie?
Yeah Oh, yeah

Imperial Teen – Copafeelia
God help me, I loves me some Imperial Teen. All power-pop-punk with Ginsu-sharp lyrics and hummable melodies. From their debut album Seasick, Copafeelia is yet another acidic kiss-off to some fool who spends too much time “cutting out their paper friends.”

This will get stuck in your head and hold on for the drop to bass and drum about 3/4’s thru, which will makes you wonder why more bands don’t do that sort of thing all the time. (It worked wonders for the Charlatans UK’s biggest hit The Only One I Know…)

carbonated palm couture
drunken hands will kill your pimp
and make you whore du jour
you’re worth more dead than alive
I don’t want to die here
I don’t want to die

Marilyn Manson – This Is The New Shit (Goldfrapp Mix)
At first, this sounds like any other Manson track, all drums and distorted vocals. But listen closely. Alison Goldfrapp (the britchesless beauty from a couple of weeks ago) joins in, layering her breathy, sex-on-wheels voice over his, occasionally taking the lead. Her contribution adds a much-needed contrast to Mr. Manson’s overwrought shouting.

But what makes this essential? Wait for it. At about 3:20 in, be prepared to hold on to your fucking preconceived notions. Goldfrapp takes over and drags Manson’s dope rock back into a smoky 1930’s nightclub and begins channeling Marlene Dietrich. If you ain’t heard someone seductively croon “Are you motherfuckers ready?” then you just ain’t lived yet.

Meterhead – Let It Go
Speaking of time warps, here’s Meterhead with a dancefloor killer that drags Def Leppard’s pop-metal into the new millenium, taking everything good about them (chanty, slogan-esque vocals, compressed guitar) and chopping the hell out of it.

This much fun should be illegal (and due to stupid copyright laws, it probably is). If there was any justice in the world, this track would be required to soundtrack any movie club scenes for the next 3-5 years. I can totally see Blade chopping up vampires to this.

All mp3s in one easy-to-access NUMA file:
Heavy Rotation 28
(link opens in new window)


[All music posted on Fancy Plans… is kick ass and too awesome to be contained. All music is also posted temporarily and, due to its high level of ass-kicking, should not be distributed without a prescription and care should be taken while operating heavy equipment or dancing around the living room (clothing optional, but do remember that the blinds are open/kids are still awake).
Should you wish to have your brilliant artistic statement forced back into confinement, please email me at Feel free to leave a comment, as that will probably be noticed sooner.
By all means, if you like what you hear (and you will), please support the totally rocking artist(s) by purchasing some music or heading out to see them live.]

Fancy Plans Guide to Rock and Roll Vol. 9

August 24, 2009

In the past volumes of this guide we’ve taken some swipes at some pretty big names. “But what of the small, indie, critic’s darlings?” I hear you asking. Well, they’ll get theirs as well. It’s just that, well, if you’ve had a 30-year career of diminishing returns, it’s just so much easier to broadly swipe. Not to mention, they’re all big boys and girls (Heart, especially) and should be able to take it. And while I hate to admit to taking the easy way out, today’s lineup is probably the easiest. It does include one request, however: Steven Wonder.

Def Leppard - Britain's finest seven-armed rock monster

Def Leppard - Britain's finest seven-armed rock monster

Def Leppard
If someone asked you what the ’80s sounded like, you could grab any of their first three albums and say, “Listen to this.” A band that was always more pop than metal (and more hair than talent – zing!), Def Leppard defined an era. That era was the “MTV stands for Music TeleVision” era, the early days when MTV was still pushing music in video form, rather than relegating it to soundtracking promos, bitchy Real World infighting or rolling behind the Real World closing credits.

They power on to this day, a testament to their longevity and their fans’ unwillingness to branch out their musical tastes. They’ve earned a spot in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame if for no other reason than their multiple triumphs over adversity, including losing a drummer’s arm to a car crash and losing an entire guitarist to death. That, and the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame’s noticeably lax standards and elastic definition of “rock.” (No worse, really, than the Grammy committee’s definition of “metal.” Jethro Tull, indeed.)

Voted Most Likely to Be Asked to Please, for the Love of God, Put a Shirt On
Voted Most Likely to Be Asked to Please, for the Love of God, Put a Shirt On

John Denver
Speaking of elastic definitions, John Denver never strayed near “rock” or “roll” once in his career, or in the afterlife, according to our sources (Sonny Bono, the Big Bopper). As sickeningly clean-cut and wholesome as a busful of Young Republicans, Denver tore the ’70s a new wuss-hole and presaged country’s descent into bland pseudo-pop. Presumably Denver released several individual albums, but who fucking needs them, considering he released around 19 “Greatest Hits” compilations.

Unlike the edgier Pat Boone and the comparitively “gangsta” Air Supply, Denver never toed the line once, cruising a steady, easy-going center line that left people yearning for the street toughness of the Eagles or Jackson Browne. Oddly enough, he was the subject of one of the darkest tribute albums ever, as death metal’s finest took on such classics as Sunshine on My Shoulder and Sweet Surrender on the unfortunately named Things to Do with Denver When He’s Dead (Cleopatra Records). Keep your ears peeled for Morbid Angel’s take on his (also unfortunately titled) classic, Fly Away.

The secret of Dire Straits' success? Glow-in-the-dark headbands.
The secret of Dire Straits’ success? Glow-in-the-dark headbands.

Dire Straits
Speaking of bands that hitched their star to MTV (we were: just scroll up to Leppard, Def), Dire Straits were yanked out of their mopey pub-rock scene and held under the fast-flowing mainstream, when their single Money for Nothing burst onto the scene in 1985.

Propelled to multi-platinum success by a video so meta it name-checked the only channel that would play it, the Dire Straits seized this opportunity, wove it into a wicker lawn chair and collapsed into it for six long years. Having Rip van Winkled right past their sell-by date, the Dire Straits awoke to a very different world; one that had passed them by in a blur of distortion and flannel.

Now stuck in the unenviable classification of “boomer rock,” the Dire Straits are doomed to walk the earth, playing mid-sized arenas and large corporate conventions along with other hellish acts like Eric Clapton, Phil Collins and Steve Winwood.

Album cover for Wonder's relatively unknown classic "Stevie Wonder Sings the Rick James Songbook"
Album cover for Wonder’s relatively unknown classic “Stevie Wonder Sings the Rick James Songbook”

Stevie Wonder
A brilliant child prodigy (perhaps not on par with Mozart, but at least up there with Bill Withers or Huey “Piano” Smith), Stevie Wonder went on to usher in a new era of R&B in the ’70s. This, of course, was followed by another ushering in the late-’90s by, among other artists, Usher. Known for his well-crafted hooks, infectious swaying and not being able to see, Wonder is a shoo-in for the African-American Blind Piano-Playing R&B Singer Hall of Fame, joining charter member Ray Charles and Jamie Foxx, who portrayed Ray Charles in the 2004 film, Ray.

Wonder lost his sight at an early age during a tragic “Wonder Twin Powers” accident with brother Davie. Due to a disagreement in terms that neither was aware of until after the word “Activate,” the resulting mixture of garbled syllables resulted in their potent twin powers being activated in the form of “Summon Baphomet,” an ancient malevolent diety (who is not a morning person, per se). The wrathful and drowsy god responded by removing Stevie’s eyesight and Davie completely. The suddenly removed-from-this-dimension twin was renamed “He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken or Referenced To” and so we won’t for the remainder of this piece.

Stevie Wonder went on to sign with Motown Records as age 11, thanks to Baphomet, who admitted he had “overreacted” and “owed him one.” The rest is history. Wonder went on to release album after album with hit single after hit single, culminating in the peak of written music: I Just Called to Say I Love You. Understandably, no self-respecting indie record store clerk will come within 100 miles of this single, leaving you to purchase it pretty much anywhere else.

The hundreds of members of Little Feat prep for a turf war with Chicago
The hundreds of members of Little Feat prep for a turf war with Chicago

Little Feat
The story of Little Feat’s formation is a fascinating one, filled with facts, intrigue, Frank Zappa and jazz fusion. Legend has it that Lowell George was trying to form his own group, using members of Frank Zappa’s touring band. Fed up with Frank’s terrible anal jokes and endless guitar wankery, George approached Bill Payne, another Zappa band member.

Word of this dissent leaked back to Zappa, whom George overhead saying, “Trying to organize these halfwit guns-for-hire into an actual band would be no small feat.” George overheard this and took off as fast as his size 4’s would carry him.

George formed his own group and, poking fun at his diminutive shoe size, suggested they name the band “Little Feet.” His bandmates and promoter heard this as the much-more-clever “Little Feat,” and hastily cranked out thousands of posters and album covers featuring this spelling. After discovering their error, George was furious and shuffled band members in and out of the lineup for the next 30 years.

Little Feat’s blend of rock, jazz, funk, R&B and shoegaze proved popular and Lowell George soon found himself surrounded by groupies, all oohing and aahing and saying how “cute” and “adorable” he was. Because you know what they say about guys with little feet? They have big hearts. And are as cute as buttons.