Hear Music From The Royal WeddingWGBH.ORG: England's Royal Wedding of 2011 for the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge included stunning musical performances. Hear them on demand here.

Observations from the KFC Yum! Center (AKA More interesting stuff than George Strait)

So, if you read my previous entry, you know we went to the KFC Yum! Center for the first time to go see the George Strait/Reba concert. Below are some of the stories and various observations made while there, some pertaining to the concert and some not.

The KFC Yum! Center is nice. No offense to the home of my beloved Cats, but it puts Rupp to shame. Then again, at least the architecture is nice because God knows the basketball played there isn’t. (*rimshot*)

I posted this on FB, but it’s still true. At all country concerts to which I have been, there are people in cowboy boots and cowboy hats who don’t even know what they are. The fact people are posing as rednecks just cracks me up. It does not make sense.

The girls who don’t dress up in boots and hats dress up like complete hootchies. What the hell? Why go to a concert (especially one in which the tickets cost $90 apiece) to look cheap? Even worse, why do that when you are with someone? I mean, you only dress like a dime-store whore if you’re out trolling.

And seriously, why wear a concert shirt to a concert. (In my younger days, I was a violator of this. Looking back, I see the error of my ways.) What’s the point in wearing a shirt featuring the person you are coming to see other than to advertise, “Hey, I’ve seen this before.” Whoopie do if you saw it before, I don’t give a damn. And congratulations, you had enough money to waste on a shirt that time. Good for you.

Speaking of, do you think these people (particularly shy ones like George Strait) like the fact they are emblazoned on t-shirts, and that you’re wearing his picture on your fake boobs?

George Strait so looks old. Time has not been good to him.

I saw a chick wearing a shirt that said, “Strait Girl.” I think that would be hilarious on a lesbian.

I sent Scott to get a Diet Coke. He comes back with a Louisville Cardinals cup. He apologized profusely and said there were no other large cups. Just holding this cup, I felt my hands starting to burn.

Decorating the arena, there was a banner for McDonald’s advertising the “Official Burger and Fry.” I’m guessing it’s the official burger and fry of Louisville basketball. Which is quite fitting in reality – Louisville basketball is the McDonald’s of basketball. You don’t really want it, but it’ll do in a pinch. (*another rimshot*)

During Reba’s show, LeeAnn Womack was out and about (she said during her set she wanted to watch the show anyway), and, at one point, she was standing in the floor entrance right near us. People were about jumping over the edge of the seats we were in (lower level, fifth row up) to see her or grab a picture. Really? Scott asked if I was going to do that and I was like, “No, I don’t want to be one of ‘those’ people. She just wants to watch the show, dammit.” What the hell? Why are people so rude?

Speaking of that floor entrance, the security guard down there was an asshole of infinite proportions. I watched him stop people for no reason, force them to come all the way back so he could see their tickets, and other bitchy stuff. I mean, I understand looking at the tickets the first time someone goes by. But for a guy who is carrying a fresh beer during the last half hour of the show, is this really necessary? Maybe if you’d just pay attention as he walked out on his beer run, you wouldn’t have to be such a prick. Someone’s just wielding power because he can.

Speaking of that asshole wielding power, he stopped a guy who was wearing the most ugly shirt, ever. Like some weird gray design on blue (okay, though kind of out there), and when you flipped the cuffs up, it was the reverse pattern. It was a reversible dress shirt. Load up your wardrobe now, you do laundry half as much! Winning.

There was this one couple being all lovey-dovey and dancing during one of Reba’s songs. Which was freakin’ hilarious considering it was a break-up song.

So, the George Strait aspect of the show was boring. He is not a showman. So, basically, it gave me plenty of time to look around and people-watch. There was my favorite guy, who was drunk off his ass, dancing like a freaking fool down on the floor. I mean, it was white-boy dancing at its finest, and off-rhythm, so entertaining as hell. At one point, I think he realized I was watching him, because he looked right at me and mouthed something. I’m not sure if it irritated him or flattered him, and to be honest, I don’t care, he was entertaining.

During some George Strait song, this couple in lower level seats across the arena started dancing – he twirled her and everything. I don’t even remember the song they were dancing to, but it was funny to watch, regardless. All I really remember is it wasn’t a song you would expect couples to dance to. Eh. To each drunk ass his own.

There was a guy sitting on the aisle seat and he had his left foot out on the stairs, so you had to maneuver around it, which was hard to do in the dark. What a moron. Really? (Scott said when he went to get the aforementioned Diet Coke, someone fell on the stairs, and he suspects it was someone tripping over that dude’s ill-placed foot.)

The people in front of us made us feel very good about our weight. I didn’t really notice them at first. I saw a chick’s hand messing with the hair of the guy next to her, and I immediately cringed because I’m not a fan of PDA. I noticed how fat her fingers were. I actually kept holding my hands up to compare. Scott put his out, her fingers were the same size as his! Then, after I noticed that, I looked at old boy she was with who put the DA in DAMN! I politely referred to them as “Chunky” and “BigUn” when speaking to Scott all night. And BigUn was texting someone all night. I probably would have too, but my phone didn’t get reception inside the chicken bucket.

As we were walking out of the Yum! Center, a chick screams out “C-A-T-S! Cats, cats, cats.” I screamed, “Yeah,” and she turned and high-fived me. I’m guessing she got some evil glances because right after that she goes, “In Lexington, no one cares when you do that.”

So then we started walking to the parking garage a few blocks down. Only I got all turned around and ended up going down the wrong street. Oops. So, we got lost in downtown Louisville and had to backtrack our way a little bit to find it. My bad. And I wasn’t even drinking!!! About the point we decided to turn around, I realized my feet couldn’t handle the boots anymore, so I started to take them off, I was just going to walk around downtown Louisville in my socks – gross, yes, but necessary, or I was going to kill someone if I had to walk another quarter mile in those things. So, Scott helps me, and these girls in a pickup yelled, “Yeah, help her put her boot on.” I said, “No, he’s taking it off!” There were a few more interchanges with these guys, but they understood why I was doing it. (Side note, this is the second time in three months I’ve walked around Louisville in socks/stocking feet – I did the same thing after the even more painful boots I wore to the Gabriel Iglesis stand-up made me homicidal.) That’s the thing, hot boots are made to complete an outfit, not to walk half a mile in. Shit happens, though. Let’s just say, once the boots came off both times, Scott had to lead me because my eyes were on the ground in front of me so I could avoid stepping in something nasty. (Further side note, this would not have been an option if I were wearing shoes without socks/stockings/tights/whatever. Then again, there are people who don’t have shoes and have to go everywhere and do everything without shoes. That’s why they have One Day Without Shoes - which, had I known about it before it already passed this year, I so would have done it.) … and before you judge me for my altruism for wanting to do this event, I almost had my left foot amputated when I was nine because a bacteria from my shoe was pushed into my foot when I stepped on a nail. Had I been barefoot, I would have been just fine. That’s a rare instance, I know it’s much scarier to not wear shoes … however, I’m just throwing that out there, that wearing shoes can be detrimental to your health too.

I have derailed big-time here.

That was pretty much the end of the night. After that, I let Scott drive my car (which was a mistake) because he backed into a red concrete barrier in the gas station because he wasn’t paying attention. If you know me and how much I love my car, you know that led to silence in the car for awhile. It could have been worse. But, you know, doesn’t make the fact it happened any less irritating. I’m not really pissed, except when I look at my car – and try to figure out when I’m going to be able to set aside some time in the next few weeks to get intimately familiar with the car buffer Scott’s sister bought us for Christmas years ago and we haven’t used yet. But hey, it was made for instances like that, so at least we have it.

Review: LeeAnn Womack, Reba, George Strait

There was a lot going on at the concert last night, and I’ll be posting another blog with more random observations from the show. Here is the basic run-down of the show itself.

I have been to A LOT of concerts in my time (current count is 26 and I think I’m forgetting a few), and let me tell you, not everyone sounds as good live as they do on CDs. The good thing is that all three of these artists sound just as good live. Always a good thing. (It’s so disheartening to go to a concert to realize the only reason you like the artist is because of the handiwork of some idiot in a sound booth.)

This was the first “in the round” concert I’d ever been to, and that was different. I mean, we were close enough to not have to watch the screens, but when they were on the other side of the stage, you had to. So, you have to work hard during these shows to find the optimum viewing angle for each spot.

LeeAnn Womack came out, and she’s okay. Not wearing the most flattering outfit in the world, but, you know, whatever works for her, considering she does NOT look like she did in the picture to the left. She did sing my favorite song of hers, and I wasn't sure she would, which made me happy. About halfway through her set, the two automatic cameras (out of the four, one for each corner of the stage) went out. Geek that I am, I had more fun watching the cameramen struggle to follow her than anything else. That is insanely pathetic, and I’m aware of that, but my pathetic-ness does get worse as the night goes on. Trust me.

So, LeeAnn Womack goes away and the next act comes out. We weren’t sure if it would be Reba or George Strait. It was Reba.

The last time I saw Reba was back when she was doing major theatrical stuff, with like 19 costume changes and all that. This was incredibly toned down compared to that, but it was great. She has a way of engaging the audience that is unrivaled by any other female artist I’ve ever seen. She was obviously having fun, including her band as much as possible, and I always appreciate artists who look like they are enjoying themselves as opposed to those who look like, “Damn, do I have to go to work again?”

This is the exact red dress she changed into.
Yay Google Images!

LeeAnn Womack came out again so Reba could sing “Does He Love You,” and their duet was pretty good. No one is Linda Davis, but it was pretty good nonetheless. Then Melissa Peterman (the blonde from the Reba show and host of “The Singing Bee”) came out, and the two did this little comedy act. You can tell it was totally rehearsed and was acting, but it was hilarious.

Her encore was, as I predicted, “Fancy.” This did allow for a costume change from all black to a bright red dress. She even came from the back to the stage in a mini-taxi. It was kind of cute.

Obviously, since Reba was the middle, that left George Strait to close. Reba’s a tough act to follow. God knows if I was on tour with her (ha, like that would ever happen – I am tone-deaf as hell), I would have to open because I wouldn’t want to be the let-down after that.

Needless to say, George Strait was a bit anticlimactic. He stands there, and he sings. That’s his thing. He would do two songs in each corner of the stage, then move to the next one. No moving during songs, no engaging the audience, just singing. He’s rather boring. In fact, I stopped watching him after I realized that, contrary to what middle-aged women have been screaming for years, George Strait has no ass. He does not have a cowboy butt that drives me nuts – or anyone, cause he doesn’t have one! How the hell Wrangler’s getting their money’s worth out of his endorsement all these years is beyond me. But I digress…

There were these screens in-between the screens that showed him, and they had these hypnotizing geometric shape things going on. The problem is, I noticed immediately they were off-center and it DROVE ME INSANE! Didn’t bother Scott until I pointed it out to him. Then he looked at me and goes, “Damn you.”

Towards the end of the show, which went on until 11:30, there was no dearth of drunks. Considering George is a rather boring guy to see on-stage, I spent more time watching the drunks act like fools. (More stories about those in a future blog.)

Oh, and observing George Straits weird mannerisms (shush, I had to entertain myself somehow – unlike Reba, you are not magnetically drawn to watch the stage when he’s on). He seemed to have a quota of the number of people he had to point to or wave to at each mark on the stage, and let me tell you, he’s got the most feminine-looking wave. I know it’s because he’s holding a guitar pick and trying not to be distracting to his singing, but, well, when you’re me, you notice this kind of thing. He said very little outside, “Thank you very much.” He did regularly tell us we were a great audience, and of course, my mind immediately went to Jimmy on South Park.

He also made incredibly weird faces when singing – if he had range, I might understand that, but, well, he doesn’t.  A couple times, he even did the “oh-no-she-didn’t head roll.” (If he would have snapped, I would have lost it right then and there.)

Basically, you know how, in the “Write This Down” video, he’s just kind of standing there singing, playing to the camera? That’s what he did this whole time. And that was his biggest thing. His audience was the camera in front of him, and not the thousands of people who were there. But, come on, we knew he lacked personality and charisma, you’ve seen the “wonderful” acting in Pure Country, haven’t you?

He left, came back and did a four or five song set as an encore, including “Folsom Prison Blues,” which seemed a little weird for him to be doing. I mean, George Strait doing a cover? It just didn’t make sense to me. (Then again, Reba has no need to do covers either and she did an entire album of them, so maybe I’m just over-analyzing.)

Anyway, the show was pretty good. I can now say I’ve seen George Strait live, even if it wasn’t crazy-exciting or anything. At least I can say I’ve done it. I’ve been there, done that. Did not spend a small fortune on the t-shirt though.

Sammy Hagar had an alien encounter - well, it explains the hair

Seriously, who wouldn't want to abduct
that and see what's
going on in that man's head?

Sammy Hagar: Aliens 'were plugged into me'

Sammy Hagar isn't kidding. He says he really was abducted by aliens.

Good for him. I can say a lot of things, but that doesn’t make them true. Let me tell you, if it worked like that, a lot of things in my life would be different. But valiant effort there, Sammy.

While promoting his new book, Red: My Uncensored Life in Rock, which includes tales of sex, drugs and rock and roll, the former Van Halen singer told MTV Hive.com all about it.

Wait a minute, let me get this straight – he’s out promoting a book and he says something controversial like “I was abducted by aliens.” Purely coincidental.

Hagar, 63, says in his book that it was a dream, in which he was contacted by aliens in the foothills above Fontana, Calif.

No, his ghostwriter said it was a dream. Because no respectable writer would actually write that tripe.

Wait for it …

But now he's saying, "It was real. [Aliens] were plugged into me. It was a download situation. This was long before computers or any kind of wireless. There weren't even wireless telephones. Looking back now, it was like ... 'They downloaded something into me!' Or they uploaded something from my brain, like an experiment. 'See what this guy knows.'"

Is this what they plugged into you, Sammy? That was just
a crazy Friday night with your kinky girlfriend.

Oh, so what’s in your book is a lie – good to know. I’m going to go take it off my NookBook wishlist now that I know that. What a shock, Sammy Hagar, the man who ruined Van Halen, now ruined his own book. It seems to be a skill he’s got down pat.

Maybe they downloaded a governor into your head which is why you can’t drive 55.

And this actually happened?

Well, a lot can happen when you spend the 80s in a drug-induced haze.

"That happened. That friggin' happened, I'll tell you right now. Another thing happened when I was about four that I didn't put into the book. One time I saw what I considered to be, well, at the time I thought it was a car with no wheels. We lived out in the country and I saw this thing floating across a field, creating this big dust storm. I threw rocks at it and ... I don't know what happened after that."

Man, it’s not in the book? I’m so glad I took it off my wishlist at this point. I can’t tell you how many useless 80s musicians I’ve read their bios just hoping for juicy stories from before they started school. Once again, I am sorely disappointed. Dammit.

A thing floating across a field, creating a big dust storm … was it, maybe a crop duster? Or maybe … a dust storm? Nope, surely it had to be aliens. That was my next choice, really.

You blacked out?

"I guess. I just have no memory of it. And that wasn't a dream. It was during daylight."

One: “I just have no memory of it.” YOU WERE FOUR! Generally, by the time we’re in our teens we don’t necessarily remember the intimate details of when we were four. By the time we’re 63, after spending a large chunk of our lives cracked-out and drunk, you’re entirely lucky you wake up in the morning and remember your own name, let alone the details of an “alien invasion” when you were four.

Two: “It was during daylight.” But obviously it can’t be a dream because it was during daylight. Hmmm, have you ever taken a nap? I know I have. Have you ever had a dream featuring a course of events that took place during the day? I know I have. But what do I know? Obviously the rules are different when you’re Sammy Hagar.

He's black ... he's white ... come on!

Don’t you just hate it when you go out to eat and the radio station they pump through the speakers to break the silence plays music so bad, you wish – you beg – for the silence? Last night, I was amazed the music at Penn Station was really decent. Munchkin even thought so because she was dancing along with it. It. Was. Adorable.

Anyway, some old school Michael Jackson came on and she was really getting into it. We decided to pick up a cheap Michael Jackson CD for her while we were at Wal-Mart after dinner. We put the CD on at bedtime, which might have been a mistake because all she wanted to do was dance. Of course, it is dancing music. The best was when “Thriller” came on and she made the proclamation: “I wrote this song.”

Scott’s went all Cuba Gooding, Jr. on her. “Show me the money.” 

All three of us laid there listening to old school Michael Jackson lament about how “the boy is not his kid” and how you must “beat it,” when I looked up and said, “You know, it’s really weird to think he’s actually dead.” And has been so for quite awhile.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve taken my fair share of potshots at him in my lifetime. But I’ve also had a love for him deep down.

When I was little, I made the general announcement that, “Today I’m going to marry Michael Jackson and Mr. Rogers is going to be the flower girl. Tomorrow I’m going to marry Mr. Rogers and Michael Jackson is going to be the flower girl.” That’s true love there.

On the flip side, I also know I used to be scared to leave my closet door open at night, because Michael Jackson was hiding in there. It’s no more crazy than Munchkin jumping in my arms saying she was scared of robots. I don’t know where the insane fear of robots stemmed from, nor do I know where my fear of Michael Jackson coming out of the closet, my closet in particular, manifested.

Back to last night … the more I listened to that CD, the more I heard the voice of a kid. I realized just how sorry I felt for Michael Jackson.

Yes, he was weird. But it’s really not his fault he was weird. He wasn’t allowed to have a childhood (which fully explains the Peter Pan obsession, right down to the nose job), and his dad was more than a little pushy and psychotic. (Don’t even get me started on the fact he wants Michael’s kids to have a pop-singing career now.) Matter of fact, no one in that family is quite right, so there’s no way on God’s green Earth you can expect Michael to turn out normal.

Given the fact he was just a big kid, it makes sense why he didn’t know how to manage money. Why he had a chimp for a pet (ahhh, Bubbles). Why he had an amusement park in his backyard. Why his friends of choice were all considerably younger than him.

Did he make mistakes in his life? Absolutely, haven’t we all? I mean, have you *seen* Debbie Rowe? Does anyone else find it just the slightest bit strange that the “King of Pop” married the daughter of the “King of Rock and Roll?” Did he dangle his baby from a balcony in Germany and scare the world? Did he make surgical masks in public a fashion statement?

Yes.

Deep down, though, he’s just a kid whose body grew old, but he never did. He talked like a kid. He acted like a kid. It made him vulnerable to pressure, to lawsuits, to media pressures, and I think, ultimately, that is what killed him. Whether it was suicide because he couldn’t take the pressure anymore, or because his doctor was tired of listening to him whine, I can’t say. But honestly, I have a hard time swallowing the fact that sweet, eccentric Michael Jackson committed suicide. But that’s just me. (Yes, I’m well aware of the irony in the fact his latest tour was called “This Is It,” but I still can’t wrap my head around him actually leaving his kids like that. Not his style.)

There’s no denying he was talented. No denying he was tabloid fodder. No denying people were pushing him, perhaps beyond the limits to which is body was able to go. And there’s no denying he had an extremely weird relationship with MacCauly Culkin.

But there’s also no denying you can think of music in the 80s and not think of “Bad.” (There’s also no denying you think of Weird Al Yankovic when you think about “Bad” and “Beat It.”) There’s no denying you think of “Thriller” when you think of old-school MTV and the birth of music videos. There’s no denying when you think of sappy anthems, you think of “We Are The World.” There’s no denying when you think of strange music videos, you think of that freaky face-changing bit in “Black or White.” There’s no denying you actually sing along with “Black or White” regardless of how much you claim to hate that song. (Yep, guilty.)

There’s no denying Michael Jackson left his mark on music – and our hearts. No matter how strange he seemed. It’s impossible to downright hate everything about Michael Jackson.

Just because Justin Bieber is an easy target...

How can you look at this and have you gaydar
not go into overload???

Why the vitriol tossed in the direction of Justin Bieber today? Well, one, I love an easy target. Two, I haven’t found anything else of interest in the news, and I’m all “As Seen On TVed” out. And, well, I’m still a little pissed off that they had to go all Justin Bieber Experience on Glee this week.


Justin Bieber Won't Have Sex Without Love
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. As one of the biggest pop stars in the world, Justin Bieber's right in the thick of it. In the upcoming issue of Rolling Stone magazine — which is already causing a buzz due to comments Bieber made about abortion in the interview — the pop star opens up about where he stands on premarital sex and the temptation to take drugs, while also inadvertently providing some insight into the speculation surrounding his relationship with actress Selena Gomez.
Umm, yay, I’m thrilled. I so give a damn what this 16-year-old thinks about sex, drugs, rock and roll, abortion and Selena Gomez. I have to admit, I just clicked the headline to read the story because, well, I was like, “Dude, could you be any more of a loser?” You have the ability to bang just about any chick in the world (you know, save for me) and you’re going to throw out this “wholesome” 16-year-old act? Remember Britney? She tried that too, she banged Justin Timberlake, even though she claimed she wasn’t going to. Stop trying to appeal to these teenyboppers’ parents.

At 16 years old, Bieber, who has no shortage of female admirers, says he's aware that many people have sex without love, but that it's not for him.
Yeah, but you know, oral sex isn’t sex. Our former president proved that. And that’s totally fair game without love. Or, maybe he’s just doing it in the ear.

"I don't think you should have sex with anyone unless you love them," Bieber said. When asked about premarital sex, however, he was a little vaguer. "I think you should just wait for the person you're ... in love with."
Yeah, well, he had to be all vague because gay marriage isn’t legal yet, so of course he’ll be having premarital sex – so as long as he’s in love with the dude, it’s all fair game. Duh.

Bieber also opened up about what kind of girls he's interested in.
Umm, none?

Elitist reporter note: How about being grammatically correct?
“Bieber also opened up about the type of girls who interest him.”
“Bieber also opened up about the kind of girl in which he might be interested.”

"I like a girl with a nice smile and who's funny," he said. "As far as looks, my taste is dark hair. But I don't limit myself. I like girls with blond hair too. I like everything."
Ohh, he’d like me. I’m thrilled. Really. My life is complete, I know I’m Justin Bieber’s type. Oh wait, then he decided to backpedal and not commit. Of course, because “I like everything” also includes guys.

While Bieber has yet to confirm whether or not he's dating Gomez, Rolling Stone reporter Vanessa Grigoriadis notes in her profile that she caught a peek of his computer background, which was a picture of him and Gomez against an orange sunset. His manager Scooter Braun told the magazine that the young star is "absolutely girl-crazy."
Really, does it take a genius to realize she’s a beard?

"Not that he goes after tons of girls, but if there's a girl he wants to see and he feels that we're not respecting that, he will make our lives hell to see her," Braun said.
Well, honestly, what else is his manager going to say? It’s all about making him seem attainable and therefore attractive. It’s a known fact that once a celebrity is linked to someone, they are a lot less attractive and may even lose fan base. 

As for other temptations that he might face during his career, Bieber, who is a huge Michael Jackson fan, said he wants to avoid falling into the same pitfalls as his idol. Namely, when it comes to drugs, which he said he has no interest in trying.
Again, they all say that. Given that proclamation, how much you want to bet he’ll be one of the ones dead of a mysterious drug overdose in the next five years?

"Are you curious about cutting off your finger? Do you want to know what that feels like?" Bieber reasoned. "To me, taking drugs is the same type of thing. In the end, all that happens is you get hurt by it."
Hey, Bieber, I have cut my finger off (well, part of it). It was a complete accident, but I have experienced it and I take offense to your analogy, jerkwad. What the hell makes you think you’re so much better than me, punk?

The full interview with Bieber hits newsstands on Friday.
Ohhhh, I can’t wait!

And just because no blog about Bieber is complete without the proof he is, in fact, gay, I will end with some photo proof … Bieber fan girls may want to stop reading now.

Custom Built? Not so much...

Due to the fact that I’m insanely bored and opinionated – never a good combination – I’ll go ahead and regale you with a review of the new Bret Michaels CD, Custom Built.

If I was a member of the Bret Michaels fan club, I think I might get kicked out for the things I’m about to say. But, well, c’est la vie.

Overall, it sounds just like what I’ve heard before. In fact, three of the tracks are actually from Freedom of Sound, another solo Bret Michaels project. Two others are “club mixes” of tracks from Freedom of Sound. Seriously Bret, could you not come up with some new music, so you had to lift from your previous work? I mean, sheesh. I’d rather have an eight-track CD of all new material as opposed to a 12-track CD where a third of it came from other CDs.

Similarly, the song Every Rose (the country version of Every Rose Has Its Thorn) is one of the tracks shared between this CD and Freedom of Sound. I like Every Rose Has Its Thorn as much as the next 80s girl out there, but come on Bret, let’s get it together and not live in the past. It’s not the only good song you ever wrote. Plus (God forgive me for saying it), it’s kind of pathetic that you lean on that song so much. It’s not like you were a one-hit wonder, for God’s sake. STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!

Now, onto some of the new tracks… first of all, it’s somewhat sad that all of his music has the same “monochromatic” sound to it. I mean, it’s almost like, “heard one Bret Michaels song, heard them all,” at this point. I know he can sing, I know he’s got range – I wish he’d use it. Come on, Bret, step outside the box. You’ve done it before, you can do it again. I know it’s comfortable in the box, but still.

If there’s one thing in music I can’t stand, it’s when artists refer to older songs (or worse, themselves), in lyrics to songs. I’ve often called this the “kiss of death” because most artists who refer to themselves in the lyrics of their songs don’t last too long. (Case and point, Bros. If you don’t know who they are, I just proved my point. I have seen them in concert – not by choice – so they really did exist and they really did suck, and the only lyrics I remember from any of their songs was “singing B-R-O-S, B-R-O-S.” But I digress.) In one of the songs, Bret refers back to the Poison song Sexual Thing (which is not one of my favorites, I might add). Really? Can’t come up with new lyrics so we have to scrape the 20-year-old barrel? (If you listen to some of his other solo stuff, it does reference other Poison lyrics. So this is not the only violator, but it irritates me just the same.)

The track What I Got is tolerable (as far as lyrics go), but it features Bret trying to rap. Let’s get something straight – I fully believe that white guys should not rap. (Yes, Eminem, Vanilla Ice and Kid Rock, I’m talking to you!) Especially white blond guys (again, Vanilla Ice, I’m talking to you). What’s even worse, the beginning of the song is someone, and I can only assume it’s Bret, who is beat-boxing. Umm, no. Run away. Run far, far away.

Oh, okay, and now onto my biggest pet peeve – Nothing to Lose. First, there are two versions. One of Bret by himself, and one where he sings with someone else, which is one of those sad ploys to add more tracks to a CD without adding content (hey, Bon Jovi, you did the same thing with You Can’t Go Home, so don’t think you’re free and clear from my wrath). That’s not my biggest problem with it. Nope. Not by a long shot.

My problem is that the duet version is with Miley Cyrus. (The only way, and I mean the only way, it could be worse is if it was a duet with LeAnn Rimes. Hey, Bon Jovi, you hear me?) I mean, I can tolerate Miley’s voice if I have to, but the song is very … ummm … yeah, you get where I’m going. To duet it with a 17-year-old Disney starlet? That’s just gross. Come on. I mean, yeah, I know she’s a slut and all, but still. The image is just wrong.

So… there’s the new Bret Michaels’ CD according to me. Sorry Bret. I still love you, but am not impressed with this newest collection. Next time, don’t rush a CD out just because you’re riding high on the publicity of a brain hemorrhage, mmmkay? Take your time, put together a better collection of music, and we’ll still love you. Promise.

God can't have Bret Michaels yet

My story isn't special. My brother was into metal when we were kids, and in the midst of all his stuff, I hear some Poison and I was hooked. I remember my sister taking me to the mall to buy anything I wanted for my birthday when I was in the second grade ... what did I choose? A "Look What The Cat Dragged In" concert shirt (which subsequently got stolen by one of my siblings, though I must admit I've never gotten confirmation of that).

I still always carried that torch for Poison, even when my friends made fun of me. So much so I bought a Bret Michaels solo album, and it' good, but you know, you can't top Bret, Ricky, CC and that other dude. :) (Come on, you don't know his name either, and I could go look it up, but I'm too lazy at present moment.)

In 2006 Poison went on tour with Cinderella and I so wanted to go, but they didn't come anywhere near here. As luck would have it, though, they were playing my hometown and I managed to wrangle tickets to a concert the night after the Poison show back home. So it only makes sense that I was going to go to the Poison show if I was going to be in town.

I am so glad I went. It was, by far, the best concert I have ever been to. Cinderella sucked, but you know, I wasn't there to see them. I was there to see Poison. I was there to see Bret. These guys just kept going, singing and having fun. You could tell they were just grateful that, twenty years later, people were still rocking out to their music. (Side note, I was the youngest person there, but you know, whatever.)

I am grateful to my brother for my expanded music education. Without him, I never would have learned the joys of Poison, Guns N Roses, Aerosmith, and others. Much as I love some of the others, Poison has a special place in my heart and always will.

Bret Michaels was one of my first crushes. I loved him when I was seven ... even more now that I'm *ahem* significantly older than seven, though for so many more reasons. Yeah, he's hot (yeah, I know the bandanna is hiding a bald spot, but it happens) ... he has a great heart, and he's so passionate about his daughters. Now that I have one of my own, I can understand that so much more. One of his solo songs is called "Raine," which was written about his oldest daughter and it's one of my favorites.

But you know, nothing I can type here can make the appendectomy and brain hemorrhage (aka stroke) disappear from history. Nothing I can type here can make the doctors figure it all out and make him better. I can pray for him each and every night, because I'm not ready for a life without Bret Michaels in it. I want to see him in concert one more time. I want to sing along with his songs without crying because he's gone.

Guess the best thing to quote is the chorus from his solo song "Stay With Me"
Stay with me
[Bret] won't you stay here with me
You promised you would never leave
Stay with me

Heavy Cross - Gossip

ooohh oh ooooh, oh oh oh ohhh
ooohh oh ooooh, oh oh oh ohhh




It's a cruel cruel world, to face on your own,
A heavy cross, to carry alone,
The lights are on, but everyone's gone,
And it's cruel

It's a funny way, to make ends meet,
when the lights are out on every street,
It feels alright, but never complete,
without you,

I trust you, if it's already been done, undo it,
It takes two, it's up to me and you, to prove it,
All the rainy nights, even the coldest days,
you're moments ago, but seconds away,
The principal of nature, it's true but, it's a cruel world,

ooooh oooh oohh, ooh ooh oooh ooh, ooo wooah

We can play it safe, or play it cool,
follow the leader, or make up all the rules,
whatever you want, the choice is yours,
So choose,

I trust you, if it's already been done, undo it,
It takes two, it's up to me and you, to prove it,

ei ei ei ei ei, oh oh oh oh oh, ye oh oh,
ei ei ei ei ei, oh oh oh oh oh, ye eh, ye eh, ye eh,

I trust you, it's already been done, undo it,
It takes two, it's up to me and you, to prove it,

ei ei ei, woah wo, yeah eh
ei ei ei ei ei, oh oh oh oh oh, ye eh, ye eh, ye eh,

I trust you, if it's already been done, undo it,
It takes two, it's up to me and you, to prove it,
ei ei ei ei ei, oh oh oh oh oh, ye oh oh,
ei ei ei, oh oh oh oh oh, ye eh, ye eh, ye eh,

I trust you.

Defining What Music Is

Music is what feelings sound like.

Music is the poetry of the air.

Play the music, not the instrument

When words leave off, music begins.

Music produces a kind of pleasure which human nature cannot do without.

Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.

Music is love in search of a word.

Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.

Music is well said to be the speech of angels.

Did you ever notice

that there's a certain line in every song

that sticks out because

it reminds you of a person that you just can't

forget?

you learn a lot about people
when you listen to the songs
that mean something to them

Song: Every Rose Has Its Thorn (Poison)
Video also available at YouTube

21 guns!!!!!!!

- Green Day.

I am outing myself. I love Green Day (and so does my Mommy). I think their last album was brilliant. I bought it even twice- the regular one and the live version. I could still listen to it non stop.

Przyznaję się. Kocham Green Day (moja Mamusia także). Według mnie ich ostatni album był niezwykły. Kupiłam go sobie dwa razy- normalny oraz wersję na żywo. Wciąż mogłabym słuchać płyty na okrągło.