I liken 1980’s pop music to the Holocaust. We should not admire or celebrate it, only remember it so that future generations are not condemned to repeat it.
Recently at work the commercial free radio that plays on the overhead speakers aired the music that was popular during my nascent years. With such gems from The Human League, The Thompson Twins, Thomas Dolby, Herbie Hancock- oh, Herbie Hancock! How many records did you destroy? Not only by scratching them, but also by recording your music onto them. That vinyl could have been used for less destructive purposes, like say being made into strong binding tape that could be used by serial rapists or to patch Nazi Zeppelins. I kid of course.
There are things that I simply will never understand about ‘80’s music. Like their aversion to real drums, the copious use of Aquanet, or the keytar. The ‘80’s had this reverse Midas touch that ruined even the best, most talented artists from the previous two decades. Remember Robert Plant and the Honey Drippers? Paul McCartney’s duo with Michael Jackson? Even David Bowie, one of my favorites had an unfortunate career in the ‘80’s. Bowie went from Ziggy Stardust to Aladdin Sane to Halloween Jack to The Thin White Duke to some jag-off that sang far too close to Mick Jaggar’s lips while wearing a florescent cowboy duster in the video Dancing in the Street. Honestly check out the video on youtube, it’s like watching a back alley abortion. Only this features two sexually ambiguous men in their forties singing to each other. Also it takes place in a back alley I might add.
I can only imagine that Mark David Chapman had a crystal ball or was transported back in time from the future, or at the very least had a general idea of musical trends and wanted John Lennon to go out at his apex. I kid about that as well since John Lennon had many more misses than hits in his solo career. Instant Karma! and Imagine don’t make up for Meat City or Well, Well, Well.
Speaking of mistakes of the past. I was recently reading the fake, self-promoting celebrity questions section in Parade Magazine. Questions submitted by the likes of Laurence Johnston of Tulsa, Oklahoma or Mindy Roberts from Scottsdale, Arizona or some other phony name that was made up by whom I can only imagine is a celebrity’s publicist to give their dwindling star of a client some much needed exposure. One woman asked “What ever happened to ‘80’s heartthrob Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe?” First of all nobody posses a question like that. By that I mean fitting in a compliment into a question. And secondly nobody cares what Nikki Sixx is up to. Really the man rose to fame in a mediocre band that sang about shallow subjects. Also, I might add the man is currently living on borrowed time, and I don’t use that term lightly. If you were to tell me that while I was learning to walk, switching over to solid foods and saying my first words, there was a guitarist in a rock band shooting pure heroin into his eye ball while sniffing coke off of a wayward teenage runaway’s naked thigh and at one point he DIED FOR TWO MINUTES after an overdose, I would assume that the man wouldn’t be around much longer than my baby teeth. The man should have kicked the bucket eons ago.
As per Parade Magazine, Nikki Sixx is doing the same thing that all rock stars that nobody cares about anymore do. Yes, just like Dee Snider and Alice Cooper, Nikki Sixx is hosting his own radio show called, get this, Sixx Sense. No, I’m not kidding. Between dying his goatee gun-metal black and creeping out every girl under the age of thirty, Nikki Sixx hosts his radio program where I can only imagine he spins records of horrible music that is only enjoyed by people that confuse good music for nostalgic memories that remind them of their bygone carefree days.
Might I suggest a more appropriate name for Nikki Sixx’s radio show. Sixx Feet Under?