A Dark Time For The Rebellion
When I was a kid, everyone thought rock music was evil. Ok, maybe not everyone, but that was during the height of the backward masking furor, when many people at many churches (it was around that time you first started hearing about the PMRC and the moral majority) were popping up all over the place with record players, theorizing that Satan was getting his message out by piggy backing it on rock songs (especially metal) so that the message was subliminally distributed into the ears of America's youth. The only way you could hear the "actual" words was to turn the record backward by hand, supposedly bringing forth such worthwhile sentiments as "kill, kill, kill," or "shoot your dog and your grandmother." Whatever. Even as a kid, this smacked of crap to me. It was hard to imagine the devil using a bunch of leather clad morons as his disciples. It always seemed like most of these guys would have trouble playing a record forward, and it also seemed far fetched that the devil would do something so obvious.
So I listened to the music most of my life, and I never chopped up anyone's cat, or went on a rooftop with an AK-47.
It wasn't until I reached adulthood that I began to get an inkling of Satan's brilliant plan, that I began to discover where the devil truly resides.
In jazz.
The devil is in jazz--more specifically, what one might call "smooth jazz." Legitimate, more traditional jazz is very close to bearable--indeed, it's hard to deny the improvisational genius of men like John Coltrane and Miles Davis. Think of the brilliance, though. Who would suspect soulless robots like Sade, Al Jarreau, and Kenny G of being the Devil's acolytes? Especially the latter.
So you get that bandy-legged little snake charmer spreading evil from his "saxophone" wholly undetected, a veritable "patient zero" of audio pestilence. I read somewhere once that G was in the Guiness Book of world records as having played the longest sustained note on a wind instrument, or some such nonsense. Well, shiver me timbers. Of course he did! Prolonged lip contact with something long and straight? Cracker, please. I bet if you played that sustained note backward, you'd get a message encouraging voters to write in Satan in the next presidential election.
Why are people supporting this curly haired madman? I'll tell you. Because they're brainwashed, for crying out loud! There's even proof that he's evil. Proof, in plain sight. A few years back, I had the misfortune of seeing Mr G from a distance of about four or five feet. I was wandering around the Viejas outlet center with a friend and he walked by on the way to the stage. The temperature dropped about twenty degrees and I began to feel that living was futile. I felt hope begin to drain from me, and I got an almost uncontrollable urge to seek sweet release from this mortal coil by throwing myself into the icy waters of one of the nearby fountains. The fact that they were about 6 inches deep didn't occur to me. Then, he made it to the stage, and I was saved for the moment.
This was when G-Funk had a minor hit with what was billed as a "duet" with the very dead Louis Armstrong on his seminal "What a Wonderful World," the singer's image projected on a giant screen at the back of the stage. I felt like dropping to my knees and genuflecting. Instead, I turned to my friend and asked if we could leave before my spleen exploded. We were able to find our way to the car through the mist, and I was able to understand a little of what the Lutzes must have been going through when fleeing The Amityville Horror.
And the really scary thing is that since then, his power has not diminished. His capacity for evil is unknowable, immeasurable. Originals, covers, it does not matter. The message is always the same. "Choose Satan," or "Feel the power of the dark side." It's hard to believe this has passed through so many force fields. This "man," if he is truly a man, is a shorter, gayer, and more evil version of Darth Vader, of Rasputin, of Hitler, of Beelzebub himself. His name is Legion, and he must be stopped.
My personal suggestion would be to abduct him and feed him to Keith Richards. He could handle it, I think. He's put much worse in his body over the years, and yet draws breath. But alas, I realize that's not likely. So I wait patiently for someone to come along and end this blight, this affront to music. I'm holding out for a hero.
So until then, I'm going to hole up in my house and draw the curtains. Maybe put crosses on all the doors. I know he's out there.
So I listened to the music most of my life, and I never chopped up anyone's cat, or went on a rooftop with an AK-47.
It wasn't until I reached adulthood that I began to get an inkling of Satan's brilliant plan, that I began to discover where the devil truly resides.
In jazz.
The devil is in jazz--more specifically, what one might call "smooth jazz." Legitimate, more traditional jazz is very close to bearable--indeed, it's hard to deny the improvisational genius of men like John Coltrane and Miles Davis. Think of the brilliance, though. Who would suspect soulless robots like Sade, Al Jarreau, and Kenny G of being the Devil's acolytes? Especially the latter.
So you get that bandy-legged little snake charmer spreading evil from his "saxophone" wholly undetected, a veritable "patient zero" of audio pestilence. I read somewhere once that G was in the Guiness Book of world records as having played the longest sustained note on a wind instrument, or some such nonsense. Well, shiver me timbers. Of course he did! Prolonged lip contact with something long and straight? Cracker, please. I bet if you played that sustained note backward, you'd get a message encouraging voters to write in Satan in the next presidential election.
Why are people supporting this curly haired madman? I'll tell you. Because they're brainwashed, for crying out loud! There's even proof that he's evil. Proof, in plain sight. A few years back, I had the misfortune of seeing Mr G from a distance of about four or five feet. I was wandering around the Viejas outlet center with a friend and he walked by on the way to the stage. The temperature dropped about twenty degrees and I began to feel that living was futile. I felt hope begin to drain from me, and I got an almost uncontrollable urge to seek sweet release from this mortal coil by throwing myself into the icy waters of one of the nearby fountains. The fact that they were about 6 inches deep didn't occur to me. Then, he made it to the stage, and I was saved for the moment.
This was when G-Funk had a minor hit with what was billed as a "duet" with the very dead Louis Armstrong on his seminal "What a Wonderful World," the singer's image projected on a giant screen at the back of the stage. I felt like dropping to my knees and genuflecting. Instead, I turned to my friend and asked if we could leave before my spleen exploded. We were able to find our way to the car through the mist, and I was able to understand a little of what the Lutzes must have been going through when fleeing The Amityville Horror.
And the really scary thing is that since then, his power has not diminished. His capacity for evil is unknowable, immeasurable. Originals, covers, it does not matter. The message is always the same. "Choose Satan," or "Feel the power of the dark side." It's hard to believe this has passed through so many force fields. This "man," if he is truly a man, is a shorter, gayer, and more evil version of Darth Vader, of Rasputin, of Hitler, of Beelzebub himself. His name is Legion, and he must be stopped.
My personal suggestion would be to abduct him and feed him to Keith Richards. He could handle it, I think. He's put much worse in his body over the years, and yet draws breath. But alas, I realize that's not likely. So I wait patiently for someone to come along and end this blight, this affront to music. I'm holding out for a hero.
So until then, I'm going to hole up in my house and draw the curtains. Maybe put crosses on all the doors. I know he's out there.
posted by Anonymous at 5:35 AM
1 Comments:
You make a good point, although I can argue the same for country music as well.
If Kenny G is playing on the elevator down to Hades, then somewhere there in the Infernal Abyss there also has to be a dance floor where the really evil characters of history are forced to line dance to "She thinks my tractor is sexy" for eternity.
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