They say that you play too loud, Well, baby, that's tough,
They say that you got to much, Can't get enough,
They tell you that you look the fool, And, baby, I'm a fool for you,
They say that your mind's diseased, Shake your stuff.
-AC/DC, "Rock N' Roll Damnation"
Prologue, Part I - Saturday Night
A group of college friends got together last weekend at my friend, Les Faulheit's place. There was Les, a buddy we call "Frampton," another friend, Harris, and me. Conversation degrades quickly in this circle. Here's the basic play by play.
9:00 (1 Maker's Mark and Red Bull)
Les: "Mick and Keith never did shit near as good as 'Revolver'"
Me: "Stupid debate... apples and oranges."
Frampton: "The Stones kill the Beatles."
Les: "You're being absurd."
Frampton: "You can't listen to the Beatles when you're really baked. But the Stones sound great."
Les: "That's the stupidest thi---"
Frampton: "The Beatles are like Pink Floyd. They're overkill when you're fucked up. They remind you of tripping when you're sober, so when you hear them when you're actually tripping, it's too much. It's like chasing shots of Jager with glasses of whiskey."
Les: "I like that effect."
Frampton: "Ever watch 'The Wall' stoned? It's fucking awful."
Les: "What about Traffic? You listen to Traffic when you're fucked up and that's way trippier than the Beatles."
Frampton: "That's different. Traffic has lots of horns in it."
Les: "What?"
Me: "I fucking hate this argument. They're not mutually exclusive. You can dig both ba---"
Harris: "Can you pass me that bowl?"
Me: "...there's no reason to you can't dig both bands. One did revved up blues, one did Brit Pop and psychedelia."
Harris: "I agree. I like Traffic and Floyd."
10:00 (2 MMRBs, 2 MMs, 2 Pilsners)
Frampton: "Both. I like them with something in the trunk."
Me: "Neither. I fucking hate JLo, and Guerra is overrated."
Harris: "Guerrero? He's in jail."
Les: "Vida Guerra."
Harris: "Pedro Guerrero played... What the fuck did he play? Was it third base? He had, like 400 home runs."
Frampton: "Vida... that chick in Maxim with the big ass... you know."
Les: "Vida pulls off that ass because her tits cancel it out. JLo just sucks."
Frampton: "Shitty implants. Her tits look like softballs. No teardrop effect at all."
Me: "The 'round ass' craze is such fucking Madison Avenue product."
Frampton: "You like those twelve year old boy hips on a chick. I like a woman with curves."
Me: "I like 'em all. But the 'big asses are hot' thing is a fucking marketing campaign. JLo has a fat ass, so she hired a publicist to make fat asses the shit. A fat ass is a fat fuckin' ass. I don't buy that 'it's voluptuous' bullshit. Five years ago, it was fucking waif models; now it's all big asses."
Harris: "Vida Blue played for the Giants. Pitcher, right? Or is that Willie McCovey?"
11:00 (2 MMRBs, 4 MMs, 3 Pilsners [estimated])
Frampton: "In the ass. No question about it."
Les: "Duuuude, that's disgusting."
Me: "A blow job is better? You're fucking insa---"
Les: "Ass fucking is ownership."
Frampton: "I could do anything once and block it out."
Les: "I amend my answer. Shoot me."
Frampton: "This isn't a 'Gun to Your Head' situation. There's no third option."
Les: "I'm not taking it in the ass."
Me: "Dude, you cannot suck a guy off. Think about it. You have to look at his junk at eye level. You could forget the assfucking. You can look straight forward. It'd be like a proctology exam. You'd rather smell a dude's pubes? Taste a dude's load?"
Les: "You've tasted a load. Everybody has. You know, you're all fucked up and not thinking and kiss her after a hummer."
Me: "Tastes salty. But what I don't get is why it smells like Clorox."
Silence.
Me: "I'm fucking serious. A load smells kind of like weak Clorox. Ever smell one on the sheets?"
Les: "You sniffed a leftover load on the sheets?"
Frampton: "I... (coughing fit) I've... had a (coughing fit)"
Les: "An assfucking? What?"
Frampton: "Prostate exam. Old fucker put on that glove and bent me over the table and got way up in there. They (clears throat)... fuck (coughing fit)... they squeeze the prostate like they're testing a raquetball."
Me: "I've had a chick stick her fingers up my ass. A lot of them do that."
Les: "Who, that Southern chick, the Kappa?"
Harris: "Uh... the carb on this pipe is all fucked up."
Frampton: "Jones¹ digs the finger in the ass thing. Says you come like a gusher when a chick presses the gland."
Me: "Arlington isn't the South."
Les: "Whatever, was it good?"
Me: "It's strange. You're fucking and then, suddenly, your sphincter's getting pushed open. It's shocking, and kinda paralyzing at the same time."
Frampton: "Ok, ok... here's one. You either have to kiss your brother on the lips while giving him a hand job or fuck your sister."
Les: "Missionary?"
Me: "You can't do that one. We all don't have brothers and sisters."
Harris: "You know who dug assplay? Jones..."
1:00 (Unknown)
Les: "Shut that fucking shit off!"
Frampton: "You don't like the Who?"
Les: "I fucking hate the Who."
Frampton: "Best band of all time."
Me: "What? They did fucking rock operas. 'Tommy' has its high points, but fucking come on-nnnn..."
Frampton: "Who's better?"
Les: "Everybody."
Me: "Stones, Dead, Clash... AC/DC..."
Frampton: "AC/DC? Are you fucking insane?"
Me: "AC/DC is 10 times better than the fucking Who. They're one of the top five bands of all time. They've sold 100 times more records than the Who."
Frampton: "I don't mind AC/DC, but they're not even a top twenty band."
Me: "Bullshit. (cough) You're such a white bread prep school (cough) music snob. Everyone knows AC/DC is the great-- (cough) greatest band of all time. No one admits it becau-- (coughing fit). People won't admit they like AC/DC because it admits they're... (cough)."
Frampton: "Get back to me when you grow some lungs..."
- Blackout -
Prologue, Part II - Sunday Afternoon
My editor called me back around 3:00. "That was a pretty drunken message you left. As I've said before, you can write about anything you like."
"I have a big concept piece. I had an epiphany last night."
"You sure 'epiphany' is the right word?"
"Yes... in this case, yes it is."
"I'm listening."
"I want to do a piece on marketing manipulation of the masses, class antagonism, envy and insecurity... the death of truth... a deconstruction of the upper middle class paranoia and hypocrisy driving our culture. I can rope them all together into a single concept."
Extended silence (long cigarette drag).
"Ohhh... kay. Uh... what are you going to write about?"
"AC/DC."
MEMO
July 17, 2006
To: D. Miller, Editor
From: ________________
RE: AC/DC
Here's the AC/DC essay, in a legal brief format (the only way I could write it).
I. SUMMARY OF ARGUMENT
The argument here is simple. AC/DC is the greatest rock and roll band of all time.
Subsumed within the argument are certain irrefutable truths, namely:
Scott's most political work, "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap," offered a biting satire of the influx of Western mercenaries in the Angolan Civil War from a soldier-for-hire's perspective. However, like his pioneering examination of teenage ADD, "Problem Child," DDDDC was seen by the public as a nihilistic glorification of substance abuse and violence. The misinterpretation of Scott's work was best exemplified during senate hearings regarding the placement of warning labels on rock albums in the mid-80s.
Tipper Gore: 'My balls are always bouncing; My ballroom always full; And everybody comes and comes again... It's my belief that my big balls Should be held every night...' This is a song about testicles, and ejaculating, isn't it?Ahmet Ertugun (Chairman, Atlantic Records): It's a song about ballroom gatherings. You've taken it out of context. The song goes on, 'I'm just itching to tell you about them; Oh we had such wonderful fun; Seafood cocktail, crabs, crayfish...' I've been to many formal events, Mrs. Gore, as you have. No one ejaculates in the presence of a raw bar.
The public's and press's failure to understand the complicated messages in his work wore on Scott over the years, causing him great inner turmoil, leading to an early demise. He died in 1980, passed out in his Porsche outside a bar, having suffocated on vomit after ingesting two bottles of Jack Daniels.
B. AC/DC Mach II
Following Scott's death, AC/DC recruited new singer Brian Johnson, a classically trained falsetto then fresh off a stint in the The D'Oyle Carte Opera Company's 1979 production of "The Gondoliers." While the band played a succession of three chord, 3 to 5 minute assaults,
Johnson belted lyrics in a high pitched screech of sorts, the majority of which centered around masculine themes of sex, easy women, alcohol, sex and alcohol. Johnson ushered in the peak of the band's commercial success with the breakthrough number one album, "Back in Black."
Their 1981 follow-up album, "For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)," was also a number one smash, garnering critical raves as well for the first use of actual cannons in a musical piece since Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture." After a short hiatus following a poorly received concept record about an insect living in a bar ("Fly on the Wall"), the band roared back onto the scene in 1986, scoring the soundtrack to Steven King's blockbuster about trucks and lawnmowers turned into killing machines by an evil comet, "Maximum Overdrive." Among numerous instrumentals, the M.O. soundtrack contained the top forty hit and lyrical Gordian Knot, "Who Made Who."
Since the success of "Who Made Who," the band has followed an erratic trajectory. Their 1988 album "Blow up Your Video," a controversial scorched earth response to the then heated debate raging between Betamax and VHS enthusiasts, flopped. However, the band's 1990 album, "The Razor's Edge" was a huge success. Based largely on the success of the thunderous "Thunderstruck," a cautionary tale about bassist Cliff Williams' mother's freakish 1982 death resulting from a rare and poorly understood atmospheric anomaly, the album sold over 3 millions copies. Sales to hockey, football, baseball and jai-alai arenas alone exceeded 30,000 units. Fulfilling the "Rick Rubin must produce one of your albums" clause in their contract, in 1995 the band released "Ballbreaker." It spawned one hit, the devilish double entendre, "Hard as a Rock" (which was really about erections). The band's next release, 2000's "Stiff Upper Lip," contained the infectious "I Feel Safe in New York City." As catchy as it was, IFSINYC fell from the charts abruptly in the fall of 2001.
Since the band's debut, AC/DC has sold in excess of 63 million albums, placing them in the top ten rock recording artists of all time, alongside The Beatles, Led Zeppelin and Elvis...²
Click here to read Part Two, "We Salute You."
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¹ Friend from college.
² Guaranteeing Angus Young is laughing at this piece a lot louder than you are.
Posted by PhilaLawyer at 3:34 PM