Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Son of Random Thoughts

I'd love to do a documentary about Bill Ranic, the guy who won the first season of the Apprentice. I'd follow him around this big construction project he is overseeing in Chicago and ask him every three seconds, "So, like, who's really in charge?" My goal would be to say that enough times that he'd either a) admit the truth and introduce me to the person who's really in charge or b) punch me in the face. Either way it'd be great television.

Considering option b, maybe I'd get someone else to answer the question.

Here is an offensive statement, from a review of Fatboy Slim's latest album, Palookaville.

"It also relies more on real instruments and proper songs, rather than Cook's laptop and fun floor fillers, swapping instant thrills for something longer lasting."

Granted this doesn't have the visceral thrill of "I'm so pleased with my gender. We're not that bright." But still it bugs the crap out of me, that now in 2004 there are still brain dead music critics who diss electronic music.

Bands like Fatboy Slim, Moby, The Chemical Brothers, Underworld, New Order, Pepe Deluxe, and so on have done both fun party tracks (and for the record, what exactly is wrong with that?) and meaningful and well written songs. The Laptop, the sample, the turn-table, the keyboard, these are instruments. Music comes out of them, music created by the skill of the players. There's a reason every fourth guy isn't Moby. Most people eat meat, but that's not the reason. The reason is that Moby (and Norman Cook (Fatboy Slim), Ed Simmons and Tom Rowland (The Chemical Brothers) and so on are big stars is because they write kick ass songs. I'd put "Born Slippy" or "Run On" or "Woman in Blue" up against any song made by a guitar or a piano or a kazoo.

Anyway that just got me riled up but I'm calmed down now. Sort of.

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