Hi, I’m Meathead.  I’d like to take a moment from doing whatever the hell it is I normally do and share some vitally important information with you.   You Buddyhead readers are the closest things I have to “friends”, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, so please pay very close attention.  This is serious.  Yeah, maybe I’m being a little paranoid, but just humor me, okay?  I’ll buy you a Slurpee*.

*not legally binding

“America has lost a great public servant and true patriot today,” a White House spokesman said, after learning of Senator Jesse Helms’ death on the Fourth of July.

Yes, we will truly miss this great man, who was a champion for the interests of rich, white, heterosexual Christian males everywhere.   He’s with Jesus now, hanging out with Jerry Falwell and waiting for Billy Graham and Pat Robertson to show up.   We at Buddyhead (well, me, at least) would like to pay tribute to Mr. Helms by sharing some touching remarks made by the late Bill Hicks:

Also, here is a beautiful song by MC Hawking that sums up this great man’s life much more eloquently than I ever could.

MC Hawking - “Why Won’t Jesse Helms Just Hurry Up And Die?”

Hi, I’m Meathead.  As you’ll know once you’re finished reading this sentence, I’ve been extremely busy lately, repeatedly running over old ladies and Hasidic Jews with a fire truck in the hot new computer game Grand Theft Auto IV.  Therefore, I don’t have a whole lot of time for other activities like leaving the house, showering, urinating and defecating in the proper receptacle (the toilet), and/or writing useful and informative articles for Buddyhead.com.  However, I felt I could take a little break today in order to address an important subject.

I’ve been getting quite a lot of emails from people all over the world asking me to teach them how to draw former Chicago frontman Peter Cetera.  Understandably so, as he’s quite a strikingly handsome man.  Naturally, I ignored them, because I’m an asshole, but after nearly eleven years of this and no forseeable end in sight, I think it’s time to finally put a stop to this.  Today, at long last, you will learn a quick and easy way to draw Mr. Cetera.  I hope you will find this information useful and that it will fill that gnawing empty void in your life, at least for a few minutes.

Like most adult contemporary singer-songwriters of the 1970s, Peter Cetera had/has a head. Let’s draw it!  I know, drawing a head for the first time can be quite a daunting task.  Just take a deep breath, grip the pencil with both hands, and draw an egg-like shape like the one you see here on the left.  Do you like eggs?

Once this has been done, you may draw the two straight lines also shown in the image.  If this proves to be too difficult to do freehand, you may utilize the edge of the multi-platinum Chicago X record sleeve.  Don’t use Peter’s self-titled 1981 solo album, though, because it sucks.  In case you’re wondering why in God’s name you’re drawing these straight lines, they’re for the “shoulders.”  Trust me, it’ll all make sense soon.

Check this shit out.  Now we’re going to start drawing Peter Cetera’s beautiful face.  If you’ll notice here, I’ve added two smaller eggs, a piece of broccoli, and a banana.  Believe it or not, these will become his eyes, nose, and mouth!  Fuck yeah!

Make sure you arrange the eggs, broccoli and banana the way they are shown in this example.   Don’t try to get all Picasso on us.  Yeah, he may have exercised more creative license than others when choosing the placement of the facial features of his subjects, but look at him now.  He’s dead!  Let that be a lesson to you.  Eyes, nose, then mouth.

Let’s get real here for a second.  Peter Cetera isn’t getting any younger.  Time takes its toll on us all, and someday all of us (except Ernest Borgnine) will die.  It’s just the way it is, and there’s nothing we can do about it.  Now, that being said, let’s add some more detail to Peter’s age-ravaged face!

Wow, we’re almost halfway there!  Can you believe it?  In just a matter of moments you’ll be a master at drawing the man responsible for the hits “If You Leave Me Now,” “Baby, What A Big Surprise” and “Glory Of Love”!  And your parents said you’d never amount to anything.  You’ll show their Doobie Brothers-loving asses yet!

Now we need to add a little more detail to Peter Cetera’s dreamy eyes.  Since eyes look kind of weird without any pupils or irises, let’s give him some.  Remember, it’s iris, then pupil.  If you can, try to draw them in the general center area of the eye, unless you’d like to have Peter looking in a different direction.  However, this should be reserved for more experienced artists.  Just stick to the fucking lesson.  Don’t forget the eyebrows! Eyebrows are cool.

He will also need ears.  You have ears, right?  It’s only fair.  Draw ears on Peter Cetera as shown.  They should be lined up as closely as possible with the eyes.   I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.

Now let’s give this guy some teeth!  Peter needs teeth to sing the songs in his catalog that contain the letter “s” somewhere in the lyrics, which is pretty much all of them (I checked).

I know, at this point you’re probably thinking “This looks exactly like Peter Cetera; what else could I possibly need to add?”  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!  We’re almost done, but there are just a few more small yet crucial details that must be included.

It’s time for hair!  I bet you forgot all about that, didn’t you?  Don’t worry, most people do.  Hell, if I had a hair for every time I’ve forgotten about hair, I could weave a rug out of them!  Then I’d spill coffee on it.

The hair can be a little tricky to draw, but please don’t give up.  Remember, practice makes perfect.   Notice the two individual strands of hair hanging over Peter’s forehead.  This adds an extra level of realism to the drawing.  I’m all about realism.  I push it to the max.  If you can’t handle that, then you can get out right now. I don’t have time for bullshit.  Don’t forget the little triangular sideburn there next to his ear.  He would look pretty stupid without that!

We’re almost there. Let’s add some more detail to the hair, to clear up any confusion one might have over whether Peter Cetera is wearing a bicycle helmet.  I used exactly eight lines for this, and that’s what you should do.  Trust me, I’m an expert.  Just leave it at eight, and move on.

As you can see, I’ve filled in Peter’s totally hip leather jacket.  This helps to counteract the extra wrinkles I added to his face.  Sure, he’s old enough to be your dad (or probably your granddad by now), but he’s a cool dad!  He may have an AARP card, but he probably has a motorcycle in his garage, too.

Now we’re all done with the basic drawing!  Let’s move on to the final step!

Now we just need to add a few finishing touches.  Here I’ve done a little bit of shading to give the drawing that “3-D” look that’s all the rage these days.  Pretty self-explanatory, really.  Just do what I did.  Feel free to add your own background!  I felt that a soft gray gradient would suffice, but you’re more than welcome to use whatever you want for a backdrop: a checker pattern, a hellish post-apocalyptic landscape littered with bombed-out buildings and dead children, or a barber shop.  It’s up to you!  That’s the magic of art.

Now that you are officially an authority on drawing Peter Cetera, you’re probably wondering where you can put this new and vital skill to use.   Why, there are virtually unlimited places you could draw him, including public men’s room stalls, and probably other places as well!  Your only limit is your imagination.

Well, it’s time for me to go push some more homeless people onto the subway tracks (in GTA IV, not real life, I would never do that in real life), so I’ll leave you with this video of Peter Cetera inexplicably wearing a Bauhaus t-shirt.  Hope it gives you the inspiration you need to start drawing!

Hi, I’m Meathead.  Since I could count the number of times I’ve visited the Pitchfork website on one hand even after a hypothetical horrific, bloody woodshop mishap, I’m not really “up” on all the latest “rock and roll” bands that “kids” are “listening to” these days.  Of course, this isn’t much of a problem, seeing as most new music that is created today “blows goats.”  Unfortunately, every now and then I catch wind of one of these god-awful pseudo-bands, despite my best efforts not to.  And more often than not, they end up opening for Nine Inch Nails soon after.  But I guess my ever-growing distaste for contemporary music is just another sign that I’m getting old. I’ve also been watching a lot of Matlock lately.  I can’t believe I’ve never noticed how much this show kicks ass.

Have you ever seen a band name that’s so mind-blowingly retarded that it makes you want to roundhouse kick a nun right in the face?  Like, for example, “As I Lay Dying”, “Panic! At The Disco”, or “Darryl Hall and John Oates”? I recently had the opportunity to experience this tingly sensation, although in this particular case, the word “band” is used in lieu of “whiny putz with a keyboard.”  It’s easier to just type “band.”  Imagine my delight the very moment I became aware of the existence of yet another one of these atrocities.  To my chagrin, there was a noticeable lack of nuns nearby to attack indiscriminately at the time, so I had to settle for local Cub Scout pack #418.  I tell you, it just wasn’t as satisfying.  You’d think it would be, but it wasn’t.  So it goes.  Nevertheless, I was still stuck with the cold, unchanging reality that someone is actually recording and performing music under the moniker Casiotone For The Painfully Alone. Holy Christ.

I wish I could say this was a joke, and that no one could honestly be that lame.  I really, really do.  In a perfect world, this would be the case (and my idea for a Matlock/Robocop crossover movie would finally get the green light).  Alas, this is not a perfect world.  In fact, just between you and me, it kinda sucks.  We all have to wake up every morning (or in Travis’ case, every afternoon) and face ridiculous gas prices, traffic, high fructose corn syrup, Hillary Clinton, and this douchenozzle shown here to your left, who was born Owen Ashworth.  As his idiotic stage name suggests, he likes to fire up his Casio keyboard and play sad, whiny little poor-me songs about how nobody wanted to ride bikes with him when he was eight years old, or some such horseshit.  I mean, just look at him.  He makes Conor Oberst look like Henry Rollins.  And, wouldn’t you know it, there seem to be people out there who actually eat this shit up, because this butthead is actually playing at the Echo on Friday.  Yeah, that’s what I want to do on a Friday night.  To be quite honest, I’d rather save my $8 by staying at home and trying to figure out what they’re saying on the Korean channel.  At least then I wouldn’t be subjected to tripe like “Toby Take A Bow.”  Oh look here’s a music video for “Toby Take A Bow.”  Great.

Wow, what a shitty video.  I actually want to get Rickrolled right now just to get the taste out of my mouth.  Or eyes.  Or ears.  Whatever, fuck you.  If you actually enjoyed it, and you have eight bucks burning a hole in your pocket, then by all means go see this train wreck.  I’ll be waiting for you out in the parking lot with a baseball bat after the show.  In fact, I’m 100% certain that there are some Buddyhead readers who already listen to this jackass on a regular basis.  The really fucked up thing is that this dude probably even has some groupies by now.  Can you imagine that?  “Oh, Owen, you’re so sensitive and misunderstood!  And your Casio is so retro and ironic!  You can scatter your pearls on me anytime!”  You know he’s milking that shit for all it’s worth.

In case you’re still on the fence, here’s a video of him performing live, to give you a clearer idea of how incredible it is that he can get away with charging people to come to his shows.  Check this out.

I think I need to go listen to some Motörhead for a few hours.  Bye.

I was just spending some quality time on the World Wide Web™ before going to stupid work, and stumbled across something that I felt needed to be shared with my friends.  But since I don’t actually have friends, I’ll settle for sharing it with the readers of Buddyhead instead!

If, like me, you’re a die-hard fan of The Golden Girls, Ice Station Zebra, and controlled substances, today’s your lucky day!  For your viewing pleasure, here’s a video that’s sure to put a smile in your pants, starring Bea Arthur and Rock Hudson.  In it, the two manliest actors of the 20th century sing an up-tempo duet about nearly every illicit drug in existence.  Unfortunately, they never bring up my personal favorite drug, black tar heroin, but nobody’s perfect (except Ernest Borgnine).

Oh yeah, don’t do drugs.

Hi, I’m Meathead.  Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve spiced up your life with my Pulitzer prize-winning Internet web column, but I’ve been busy these past couple weeks getting all sweaty.  I’m sure you’ve been there, you know what it’s like.  But it’s okay, just relax, everything’s cool.  Seriously, chill the fuck out.

You know what’s one of my favorite frozen, pre-packaged desserts based on a Mexican food staple?  Hint: You’re looking right at a picture of it, and it’s also mentioned in the title.  Give up?  I’m talking about the delicious, savory Choco Taco.  I know what you’re thinking.  “Buddyhead is a music website!  I come here to read about music!  Choco Tacos aren’t music!  Therefore, my conclusion is that an opinion piece on Choco Tacos has no place on Buddyhead!  This is bullshit!  I’m calling my state representative right now!” But don’t worry, this actually is music-related.  Just be patient and you’ll see.  Besides, your state representative is probably too busy banging your mother to pick up the phone.   BURN

Choco Tacos have long been the choice of the most discerning frozen pre-packaged dessert connoisseur.  No one knows its exact origin, but the first historical record of Choco Taco consumption took place on May 29, 1574.  On the day before his untimely death, King Charles IX of France was offered a croissant by his wife.  He replied with “Léchez mon cul, salope!  Je voudrais un Choco Taco putain! (Lick my ass, bitch! I want a fucking Choco Taco!)” [citation needed]  The next day, he was hit by a bus while on his way to see Yes in concert.

Did you know that the accused conspirators in the Lincoln assassination were given Choco Tacos as their last meal before their execution on July 7, 1865?  Of course, they shit them right back out when they died.  I’m sure ol’ Honest Abe would have appreciated the irony.  It’s unknown whether Lincoln himself was a fan of Choco Tacos, but it’s quite hard to fathom that he wasn’t.  My heart swells with pride when I picture our sixteenth president sitting at his desk, signing the Emancipation Proclamation with one hand while trying not to get ice cream on it from the Choco Taco in his other hand.  At least that’s what I hope my heart is swelling with, and not just cholesterol.  America!

John Wayne, a.k.a. “The Thin White Duke,” never attempted to hide his passion for Choco Tacos, as you can plainly see in this unaltered photograph from the 1960’s.  Any attempts to confront Mr. Wayne about it were met with a fist to the face (if he was in a good mood that day).  Other famous celebs who are also unabashed Choco Taco enthusiasts include Alan Alda, Slim Pickens, the guy who sang the Mr. Belvedere theme song, Walter Mondale, Russia’s Czar Nicholas II, and Snow Dogs star Cuba Gooding, Jr.  I don’t know about you, but when I hear that Cuba Gooding, Jr. likes something, I’m all over it like shit on rice.  If you’re reading this, Cuba, call me sometime!  We should go rollerblading next week!  Oh, who am I kidding?  Nobody that cool reads this page.

It causes me great mental anguish to consider that there are some folks out there who have never tried a Choco Taco.  It’s sad that anyone would choose to waste their life like that.  Why would you not want to be eating a Choco Taco right now, as Cuba Gooding, Jr. is undoubtedly doing as I type this sentence?  It’s a waffle-cone shell filled with ice cream and fudge, and it’s topped with chocolate and peanuts!  I don’t mean to sound harsh, but quite frankly, if that doesn’t make you salivate uncontrollably, you should probably be dragged out into the street and shot.  We don’t need people like you polluting our society.  Just wait until I’m president and you’ll see how serious I am about this.

I once bought a taco from a nearby taco stand — well, actually, it was just a guy in a van, but that’s beside the point — and then took it home and poured chocolate syrup on it.  Then I ate it.  I soon determined that that was not the wisest idea I’ve ever had.  One should not tempt God by trying to make their own Choco Tacos at home.  If man were meant to make their own Choco Tacos, Lloyd Bridges would still be alive right now, and he’d be doing commercials for Gold Bond medicated powder.  Man, that would be weird.  So just be glad that I took one for the team and ate a spicy chorizo taco coated in Hershey’s syrup.  I did it so you wouldn’t have to.  I’m like the Jesus of bad food combinations.  Please send me a check for 10 percent of your weekly income.

Now, I know I said that this update would tie in to music somehow.  Unfortunately, I was just fucking with you.  It has nothing to do with music whatsoever.  Sorry.  I promise that the next thing I write will be an in-depth review of the new Rascal Flatts album!  That will make you smile and say “Aah, this is the Buddyhead I know and love.” (see below)

Hi, I’m Meathead.  As you may recall, I’ve posted several articles here on Buddyhead over the past few weeks.   But it’s all been a sham.  I thought I could get away with it, but I soon realized that I had underestimated the intelligence of the average Buddyheadite.  I now know better, and I hope you can forgive my mistakes.

When a person, regardless of sexual orientation, logs on to the internet and surfs to Buddyhead.com, they come to be informed of the latest happenings in the music business (or “biz,” as they’re calling it these days).  People, like you, are very busy with everyday things like work, school, kids, mortgages, band practice, fixing that damn screen door again, Clive Barker novels, angioplasties, earwax, robbing Office Depot at knifepoint, potstickers, prayer meetings, getting your necktie caught in the ATM, oil changes, laundry, waterboarding, wearing form-fitting rubber suits, the Yankees, pushin’ th’ little daisies and makin’ ‘em come up, store-brand barbecue sauce, tax returns — you know, the daily grind.  You simply do not have the time to sift through a bunch of unnecessary tripe, like a photograph of Hulk Hogan on acid.  I mean, honestly, why should that even be on Buddyhead?  What does it have to do with music, or anything else for that matter?  No, you don’t want to see Hulk Hogan on acid.  You come to Buddyhead for the straight-up facts; nothing more or less.  You deserve to be presented with quality, informative writings, accompanied by relevant and visually appealing images.

When I first heard that Buddyhead was looking for new contributors for their website, I have to admit I got really excited.  I thought it would be my big chance to finally be “in with the cool crowd,” or “down with the in crowd,” or whatever their slogan is.  I’d finally have something more interesting to talk about at parties than the history of aluminum foil.  Well, first I’d actually get invited to parties, and then I’d have something more interesting to talk about while I covertly transfer the contents of the cheese platter to my jacket pockets.  I’d also get to finally have a cool haircut and maybe even get one of those wallet chains.  All I had to do was convince Aaron (North) and Travis that I’m a normal person who enjoys and knows a lot of things about music.

I have to be honest here.  I don’t really know a lot of things about music.  I mean, I know who Eddie Vedder is, but I wouldn’t say that makes me an expert, and therefore I wasn’t sure I could even be a Buddyhead writer.   But then I remembered those famous words uttered by Thomas Jefferson just before he was shot by Mexicans: “Fake it until you make it.”  So I faked it.  I wrote a letter to the Buddyhead guys telling them I know a lot of cool stuff about today’s music and that I have many rock stars’ phone numbers in my Rolodex.   As proof of my alleged expertise, I lifted a review of some popular new band from the trendy Pitchfork website and attached it, along with my résumé, to my application.   I don’t know why I thought Aaron and Travis wouldn’t catch on to my blatant plagiarism, but wouldn’t you know it, they didn’t.  Aaron wrote back a short time later to tell me I’d gotten the job!  Aaron reminded me, however, of the responsibilities that come with this prestigious job.  He told me to stick to serious music journalism only: “None of that Meathead Perspective shit here, brah, this is Buddyhead!”  Wow, it was so easy!  He even referred to me as “brah.”  I was finally a brah!

Unfortunately, due to my relatively low IQ, it didn’t occur to me until numerous hours later that I would need to find a way to maintain this façade of brahness.  Certainly I couldn’t continue stealing ideas from Pitchfork.  After giving it some earnest thought, I decided to take a break for a while, and do some Crown Royal shots while watching CNN.   Suddenly, as if by magic, I broke free from the soothing, hypnotic trance caused by the whiter-than-whiteness of Lou Dobbs’ teeth, and the thought hit me: why don’t I just try to bullshit my way through it?  It doesn’t matter what I say as long as I sound like I’m right when I say it.  I mean, it works for Lou Dobbs.

And that’s exactly what I did.  I wrote some articles which I thought would appear informative enough to pass muster at Buddyhead, then sat back and waited for the cool points to start racking up.  Boy, was I in for a surprise!  Turns out that my lack of knowledge didn’t go unnoticed, after all.  I was quickly scolded by a number of eagle-eyed readers for not doing sufficient research before critiquing hot bands like Radiohead, Phil Collins, and So-And-So and the What’s-Their-Faces.  Most recently, I attempted to review a new music video by the musical group Crystal Castles, and was immediately shot down.  Apparently I’d gotten many crucial facts wrong, things that any real journalist would have known.  I thought Crystal Castles had gotten their name from a computer game, but instead they got it from somewhere else.  Rats!  These glaring inaccuracies rendered my point, that the video sucked, completely and irrevocably moot.  And more importantly, I had tarnished the Buddyhead name that Aaron and Travis had worked so hard to build over the years.  For this, I am deeply sorry.

I can only hope that they, and you, can forgive my careless and grossly irresponsible charade, and allow me to continue my tenure here.  While I may not be as “in the know” as the rest of you, I promise that I will do my best to educate myself as much as I can before writing about the artists you hold near and dear to your hearts, lest I offend anyone yet again.  That is simply not what Buddyhead stands for.

Thank you for your understanding,

Meathead

P.S.: I was going to dedicate this column to the memory of Charlton Heston, but I don’t really want to get shot in the afterlife, so n/m.

P.P.S.: Vampire Weekend sucks so hard.  I mean what the hell.

Sorry if I made anyone upset with my last post about Radiohead.  I honestly didn’t mean to be so hard on them, seeing as how they did have some decent songs back in the 90’s.   Sure, In Rainbows may have been a complete and utter disappointment, but that certainly doesn’t mean that Radiohead doesn’t have at least one more hit in them before they’re crushed to death under the weight of their own self-importance.   I should have chosen my words a little more carefully, as we all know that Radiohead fans are an emotionally fragile bunch, and I’d hate to be responsible for yet another mass suicide.  So please accept my most sincere apologies for my lack of sensitivity.  Buddyhead deserves better.

While I’m throwing sorries around,  I’d also like to apologize to the guy who pointed out my lack of research when writing about that Provigil ad banner a couple of weeks ago.   Oh shit, busted!  I thought I could get away with it, but Inspector DZK is on the case.  Thanks for setting me straight, dude.  I bet you’re a real hit at parties.  And you’re right, Buddyhead readers don’t come here for that shit.  They come here to read the infamous gossip page watch Raconteurs videos.  In that spirit, I thought I’d talk about a video I saw on the internet today.

I log on to MySpace every now and then, mainly so they won’t delete my account for inactivity or some bullshit like that.   Inevitably, as soon as I get there, I see a plug for some new horrible flavor-of-the-week hipster band that is apparently all the rage right now but nobody will give a shit about by the time you’re done reading this sentence.  Usually I just ignore them — I mean, what’s the point of looking at hipsters if you’re not able to reach out and physically strangle them?  Maybe the next Firefox update will let me do that, but in the meantime, my only options are to A) log out of MySpace and lock myself in the closet, or B) buy some piano wire and go for a walk down Vermont Ave.

For reasons known only to the Lord Jesus Christ, I let my masochistic curiosity get the best of me this time and clicked on the latest piece of shit that MySpace is telling me to like.  It’s a video by some group with the oh-so-ironically retro-cool name “Crystal Castles.”  Yeah, Crystal Castles was an Atari game from the early 80’s.  I played it for about five minutes once, then turned it off because it was fucking retarded, and I played some Zaxxon instead.  I would bet a substantial amount of money that there’s an indie hipster band somewhere out there with that name too.  Hopefully DZK, the official Buddyhead fact-checker, will drop by soon to let us know.  Or what about Jungle Hunt?  Anybody remember that game?  Anybody want to start a band called that?

Even more idiotic than the band’s name is the name of this particular song: “Courtship Dating.”  Are you kidding me?  What in the fuck kind of dumb-ass title is that?  The kind that makes me want to click on the link just so I can have something to regret later.  So I did.  And I do.  For a brief moment as the video was loading, I felt a little guilty.  Maybe I was being unfair by judging them so harshly before even giving them a chance.  Who knows, maybe they’re actually really talented!  Maybe I was wrong about them!

Nope, I was right.  You know those songs that start out sounding kind of cool, like it’s building up to something interesting, and then it makes a hard left and immediately starts hemorrhaging gallon after gallon of suck as you frantically scramble to find the button to turn it off?   Well, “Courtship Dating” isn’t one of them.  It blows chunks right from the get-go.  Oh, what’s this?  Retro-sounding 8-bit noises?  No fucking way!  That’s so unexpected and innovative!  Like, it totally takes me back to when I was a kid with my Commodore 64, and I have fond memories of that (even though, let’s be honest, it was a piece of shit), so naturally I’ll just transfer these warm, fuzzy feelings of nostalgia onto “Courtship Dating” and enjoy that too!  I’ll ignore the fact that I can’t understand one goddamned word this dumb girl is “singing,” because I’m just so enthralled by those Nintendo-esque arpeggios!

One thing I can say in favor of this heaping helping of audio/visual tragedy is that, at least, the quality of the video is on pretty much the same level as the quality of the so-called music.  They put about as much effort into making an interesting visual accompaniment as I put into heating up a Pop-Tart.  Actually, no, fuck that, I make damn good Pop-Tarts.

It all begins with Lil’ Miss Poser in a dark room with a strobe light, half-heartedly mouthing along to the non-words that someone actually allowed her to record in a studio, while some shithead in a Slayer t-shirt (seriously? Slayer?) pretends to be rocking out with some unidentifiable object that resembles a large toothbrush.  I can only imagine that this is something they thought other people would actually enjoy watching.  This goes on for roughly 40 seconds, and then we’re treated to a shot of them performing live in front of their eight fans, accompanied by an extremely brief noise interlude that, quite frankly, is the only part of the entire song that even approaches vaguely resembling interesting.  Then it’s back to more of the same strobe light shit.  Thankfully, the question “Could this music video possibly be any less enjoyable?” is finally answered.

The answer is a resounding “YES!”  First we get another moment of pointless-as-everything-else noise (sorry, it might have worked once, but twice is pushing it), and then WOW!  It’s poser-girl standing around in the kitchen eating something.  I wish it were my excrement — maybe someday!  I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone violence, especially against women, but am I the only one who gets the uncontrollable urge to beat her with a shovel just from looking at her?  I bet she likes The Killers.  Oh look, she’s drinking a can of Pepsi!  Yeah, that’s something I really want to sit and watch for an extended period of time!  Maybe she’ll defrost the freezer next! Could I please watch her cook some ramen for three minutes?  That’s what I call compelling entertainment.

Instead we get some more self-gratifying live footage and some “hey look at us, we’re out on the road touring” footage.  Honestly, this is the most unsettling thing about this video.  The thought that someone may have actually gone out of their way to see these losers, and possibly even paid for admission, causes me the kind of physical pain that can only be dulled by hard liquor and possibly an Oxycontin or two.   Then again, maybe they’re just the openers, and the audience is just humoring them while awaiting the headlining act.   I can’t really take comfort in that idea, though, because what band worth a shit would want these guys to open for them?  Goddamn it.

I guess this is the kind of stuff MySpace Tom listens to.   Look, Tom, if you want to listen to this shit in the privacy of your own home, that’s your business.  You have that right as an American (or Canadian or whatever the fuck you are).  But you really might want to keep this sort of thing to yourself.  Next thing we know, you’ll be pushing Neutral Milk Hotel on us again.

Oh, I almost forgot to share Crystal Castles - “Courtship Dating” with you guys!  How silly of me!  Here it is.  I hope it has the same effect on you as it did on me.

If you’ve been following the hottest band in the world, Radiohead, as much as I have lately, you’d know by now that they are, without question, the leaders of the music revolution that’s happening today.  You can tell by the way everyone else is trying to copy all of their brilliant, innovative new ideas.

For instance, when Radiohead decided to be totally badass and say “Fuck you record label, taking all our money, we’re going to sell our own records now,” they’d do the same thing, simply walking away from their legally-binding record contracts.  Naturally, some haters out there want to imply that Radiohead’s contract was simply fulfilled sooner, thereby giving them the chance to split before other big-name bands could, but that’s bullshit.  Most bands love their friendly, caring, creatively nurturing record companies and would have no reason whatsoever to want to leave them, until Thom Yorke determines that it’s cool to do so.

When they chose to give away their groundbreaking new album In Rainbows and let people pay whatever they want for it, other bands immediately said “We gotta get in on that action!”  Unfortunately for them, though, those other bands didn’t receive the massive windfall that Radiohead got.  In Rainbows brought in somewhere around £483 billion (actually that’s a guesstimate, seeing as Radiohead never officially said how much they made, but I’m sure it’s right on the mark since, since, well, it’s fucking Radiohead).

At this point, Yorke & Co. had clearly set the new standard for the music business, and I’m sure many bands would be content to rest on their laurels at this point.  But not Radiohead!  They’re always coming up with new and clever ways to surprise everyone.  Not too long ago, they announced an exciting contest in which fans were invited to create a visual accompaniment for any song from In Rainbows.  Wow!  And whoever submits the best creation will receive $10,000!  Then they’re supposed to take that $10,000 and make a better visual accompaniment (a “music video,” let’s say) than the one that they used to win the contest.  Can you imagine it?  Seeing your own Radiohead music video on MTV once, or maybe even twice (dare to dream!), presumably at 3:45 in the morning?  I honestly can’t think of anything that would be better than that.

But Radiohead didn’t stop there!  No way!  Now they have unleashed yet another massively innovative new concept upon the world.  Get this: a remix contest!  You may not be aware of this, but generally whenever a musical group records music in a studio, all the different parts are recorded separately.  There’s a track for the drums, a track for the guitar, one for the vocals, etc. etc.  Then they’re all mixed together into a complete song.  Now, if someone wants to remix the song, the best way to do so is to have these individual, separate tracks to work with, and unfortunately, most bands don’t release these to the public.  In fact, I can’t think of any that have.  Seriously, I’m really trying to think right now, and no one’s springing to mind.  Score another first for Radiohead!  They’ve released the tracks for their smash hit single “Nude,” with the help of iTunes!  Anyone who’s used iTunes knows how easy it is to purchase music from there.  Hats off to Radiohead for making it so easy for their fans to pay for the individual “Nude” tracks.  I bet nobody else would have thought to go through iTunes.  But, seriously, what could be easier than that?  Shit, I accidentally made that into a hyperlink, and I can’t figure out how to unlink it.  This WordPress editor is weird.  Just ignore that link and don’t click on it, please.  Thanks.

Of course, as you know, I am a very accomplished remixer.  I’ve made very popular remixes of songs by acts like Four Non-Blondes, Peter Cetera, and possibly Duran Duran (I forget).  So naturally I couldn’t resist jumping face-first into this Radiohead contest.  Over the past week or so, I’ve been slaving away at my own “Nude” remix, spending well over twelve hours a day on making the finest mix possible.  Well, I’ve finally put the finishing touches on it, and I feel it’s now ready to share with the world.  I’d really appreciate it if you guys would check it out and vote for it.  Thanks! <3

Radiohead - Nude (Meathead’s Awesome Remix!)

God, I can’t wait to see what Thom comes up with next!  I guess we’ll see in a few months!

I remember when I first started seeing billboards for CBS’ hot new series, The Big Bang Theory.  My first thought was, “Oh, fantastic, it’s another post-mortem spasm in the corpse of the sitcom format, this time in a weak attempt to cash in on the bullshit ‘nerds are cool now’ trend.”  Then I thought, well, maybe I’m just being too quick to judge.  I hadn’t actually seen the show yet.  Maybe there was more to it.  Maybe it wasn’t a giant steaming pile of shit.

It wasn’t long until I started hearing people talking about it.  The weird thing, though, was that every time I’d hear someone mention it, they would say almost exactly the same thing, as if it were scripted.  “Oh my god, The Big Bang Theory is sooo funny!  The acting is so good, and the jokes are so witty!” And yet, not once would anyone actually mention any particular moment or even a line from the show that they found particularly amusing.  Sweet Jesus, I think CBS has actually been planting stealth marketers to bring up The Big Bang Theory in conversations.  Wow, it must be good, then!

Finally, I got my chance to witness this alleged cultural phenomenon that’s sweeping the nation (allegedly) for myself.  I just happened to have the TV tuned to CBS one night a while back (I still don’t know how that happened), and you can just imagine my delight when it was announced that a hilarious new episode of The Big Bang Theory was about to begin.  I decided to give it a shot, partially due to sheer morbid curiosity, but mostly because the remote was all the way across the room.  And so it began.

Simply put, the above advertisement sums up the show perfectly, to the point where there’s no need whatsoever to actually watch it.  There’s the totally mega-hot blonde (who’s really kind of average-looking but we’re obviously supposed to think she’s mega-hot so okay)  making flirty eyes to the nerd (read: “guy with glasses”) on the right, not because she actually likes him, but because she just likes stringing him along and making him think he has a chance with her so he will let her crash at his place whenever she needs a break from her like totally annoying roommate.  See, look at him, he’s looking back at her like “yeah, we’re so going to have sex later.”  Now look at the guy on the left.  You might remember him from this marginally-amusing Quiznos commercial from a few years ago:

Yeah, so apparently some genius saw that commercial and thought he should have his own TV series.  Anyway, the totally mega-hot blonde has her arm on his shoulder because, as I previously pointed out, she’s a manipulative bitch.  The Quiznos nerd isn’t having any of that, though.  Not because he sees through her ruse or anything, but simply because he’s really uptight and only cares about playing Halo and watching Dr. Who, and doesn’t have time for girls.  And that’s funny!

So I was watching this thing, and I really tried to find at least one thing to like about it.  First of all, the acting was not “good.”  It was “bad.”  Granted, that’s kind of a moot point, as the material doesn’t exactly give them much to work with in the first place.  You could put Morgan Freeman in it and it probably wouldn’t make things any better.  The entire premise of the show is simply to drive home the point that Quiznos nerd has a broomstick up his ass.  Seriously, that’s pretty much it.  Nearly every one of the “jokes” (each of which you can see coming a mile away) stems from this one-dimensional character’s lack of any desire to be spontaneous.  How can they keep finding creative and funny new ways to squeeze material from this singular idea?  Simple.  They can’t.

If you actually emitted so much as a muted chuckle at that clip, you probably have an IQ of ~30 and think Steve Martin is still funny.  I get more laughs from C-SPAN than from The Big Bang Theory, but because “everybody else” likes this flaccid stab at humor, we’re supposed to like it too.   In the past couple weeks, there have been at least three separate occasions in which I managed to overhear this show’s name get dropped, followed by the obligatory scripted praise for its supposed genius.  I don’t know, maybe I should try watching it while simultaneously huffing nitrous and hitting myself in the head with a hammer.  Then I guess I would be experiencing it from the point of view of the average TV viewer.

Wow, I wasn’t expecting my half-assed Phil Collins write-up to stir up such a heated debate.  Honestly, my only true beef with that particular video, besides the fact that the song sucks, is that no matter which way you look at it, be it from the point of view of the band or that of the person who thinks Phil Collins sucks, there is a gaping hole in the logic that simply can’t be ignored.  From the band’s perspective, they’ve played all their shitty songs that nobody wants to hear, then closing with their one “good” song.  Who the hell does that?  Seriously, open with your good song(s), then by the time you get to your shittier stuff, hopefully everyone will be too drunk to care.  Looking at it the other way, one must wonder why they are actually playing something cool at the opening of the video, then immediately launch into an orgy of 80’s synth-pop bullshit.  It’s pretty much a lose-lose situation.

Anyway, enough about that.   I want to talk about something else that’s equally inconsequential and will inevitably piss off most of Buddyhead’s readers who would rather read about Travis’ aventures in homelessness or whatever.

I like David Lynch’s stuff.  Some people think he tries too hard to be weird simply for the sake of being weird, but to me, he seems like a guy who is genuinely on his own planet.  He does whatever the fuck he wants, and if you don’t like it, that’s your problem.  He’s a master of creating situations that can be simultaneously creepy, tense, and sometimes hilarious.  Not to mention downright terrifying, as seen in this particular scene from Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me that still scares the ever-loving shit out of me even after seeing it hundreds of times:

That being said, the purpose of this isn’t to simply talk about how cool David Lynch is.  I want to talk about Sesame Street.

Anyone reading this who grew up in the 70’s and/or 80’s most likely watched Sesame Street.  I know I sure did.  Man, I watched the hell out of that show.   My favorite regular character was probably Oscar the Grouch, as I felt (and still do) that I could truly relate to him on a deeper personal level than I could with the others.  I was also a fan of the Yip Yip aliens, who would beam themselves down to Earth and become fascinated by rotary phones and Apple II computers and shit.  Big Bird was an annoying little bitch, though.  Never cared for him.

Now, I know it seems like I just made a hairpin turn from one topic to another for no particular reason, and to be fair, I do do that on occasion, just because I’m a dick.  But this time I actually have a reason.  I guess I missed this when it originally aired, but Sesame Street actually paid an homage to Twin Peaks at one point, with Cookie Monster playing Kyle MacLachlan’s part.  While the bit is pretty innocuous in and of itself (there’s no murder or incestuous rape, unfortunately), when you consider what it’s based on, including the above clip, it’s pretty fucking weird.  Please enjoy.

Let’s give a round of applause for these dudes bravery. It’s tough to be gay in a metal world. And last time I checked, Metallica - even in the eyeliner phase - did not pose naked EVER.