…but on an allegorical (and practical) level, the kingdom of God is…disruptive. Anything else is just church. Anything else is just religion. https://t.co/cw4rjxPXqE
— Chris Cocca (@foodtruckpastor) October 3, 2018
This is the precise moment VH1 stopped playing music videos and the record industry as a whole decided they needed more control of their artists’ output. Both realized there’d probably never be a song better than this:
This isn’t really a review. It’s a shout. I’m only like three tracks in, but I already love Kevin Max’s newest, AWOL, released on June 8.
Oh, and in case you didn’t already know, 2008’s Crashing Gates is stellar.
Enjoy this picture of Kevin Max and Liam Gallagher, probably circa the summer before my senior year of high school. I know I do.
If you ever find yourself starting to doubt rock ‘n’ roll, take a look at this. It doesn’t even matter that “Tougher Than the Rest” is musically the same as “Brilliant Disguise” and that they’re both on Tunnel of Love. What matters is the cutaways to these couples, the band, Bruce’s boots…what matters is freaking Patti Scialfa.
There’s an image in today’s British press of Dolores’ mother following her casket into St. Joseph’s church. It’s very striking.
This from The Guardian:
Born in Ballybricken, Co Limerick, O’Riordan was the youngest of nine children (two of whom died in infancy) of Terence O’Riordan, a former farm labourer who was left unable to work after an accident, and his wife, Eileen, a school caterer, and went to Laurel Hill, a Roman Catholic school in Limerick. She was a tomboy, burying her dolls in the garden and spending most of her time with her heavy-metal-loving brothers. Yet she also played the organ in church and, well into her teens, wore flowery dresses bought for her by her mother. The influence of her church music and the heavy rock she heard at home instilled a desire to join a band – specifically, “a band with no barriers, where I could write my own songs”. That’s what she got.
At 18 she landed a job with a Limerick group called the Cranberry Saw Us by playing an early version of a song she had written, Linger (it was inspired by her first kiss, aged 17: “I’d always thought that putting tongues in mouths was disgusting, but when he gave me my first proper kiss, I did indeed ‘have to let it linger’,” she said last year).
Equally in thrall to rock and Gaelic folk music, her voice was startling and steely, and gelled uncommonly well with the band’s melodicism. Her Doc Martens-shod, spiky-haired look provided a visual anchor, overshadowing the rest of the group entirely. Despite being out of step with the prevailing Britpop and grunge scenes, they were taken on by the Smiths’ former manager, Geoff Travis, and courted by 32 record companies. The pivotal moment came when the successful label Island booked them as the support act on the fast-rising band Suede’s 1993 American tour. Suede’s seedy ambiguity cut no ice in the US, but the Cranberries returned home as stars.
Return home, a star.
Shades of “Nothing Compares 2 U” by Prince and, to my ear, “Still The Same” by Bob Seeger.
I don’t care that it’s derivative. I don’t care that he flies. I just care that it’s awesome.
Chris Cornell is gone. Prince is gone. Sinead O’Conner is fighting for her mental health.
The verses are about lovers, but the song means more than that.
This is my favorite version.
A Psalm of Prince, Sinead, and Chris. Selah.