Tag: rock

A Man and a Mission: The Eternal Plight of Andrew WK

Andrew WK is some rare beast. He is a snarling, roaring animal. A human wrecking ball. He doesn’t have violence or mayhem on his mind, however. In reality, he wants two simple things: He wants to party, and he wants you to join him. But make no mistake, folks. Andrew doesn’t half-ass these things. When it’s time to party, he will party hard.

Andrew’s default appearance is fairly iconic. White shirt, white pants, and white tennis shoes, all stained from use and abuse. Long, unwashed, matted hair, coupled with the lower half of his face usually painted in some sort of stubble, although it occasionally grows unruly enough to be considered an honest-to-god beard.

Of course, there is one other feature that is known for covering Andrew’s face. The thick stream of blood flowing from his nose and cascading down his mouth, chin, and chest. The image was first shown on the cover of his debut album, “I Get Wet”, but it has become the most iconic and important image of Andrew to date. A grisly, yet joyous, testament to exactly how hard someone can party.

More striking then his appearance, however, is his wholly unique personality, his swagger. Although, it’s less of a swagger, and more of a full, open gallop, crashing head first through any brick walls that stand in his way, holding on his face a wide grin the whole way.

All of this comes out in his music. The essential document of such is the same one that first held his iconic, gory, visage. “I Get Wet”, the opening salvo in Andrew’s war, is a goddamn beast. Completely and utterly unrelenting, it locks into a swinging, thunderous groove, and doesn’t stop for anything. This groove comes to life beautifully on stage, with a group of sweaty men crashing and banging the whole glorious monster together. Mammoth guitars, epic synths, and a drummer that couldn’t be shaken by a goddamn earthquake. On top of it all, Andrew’s growling lyrics.

Looking purely from a lyrical content standpoint, the songs don’t have much there, and you can tell as much from looking at the song titles. “She is Beautiful”. “Party Hard”. “Ready to Die”. “Party ’till You Puke”. One quickly realizes, however, that this is all you need. What we have here, essentially, is the template, the very building blocks to having the best time of your life. Anything else would be unnecessary, and reek of pretension.

Some will hear these songs, and dismiss them as disposable. A quick way for the record companies to make some money off of drunk frat boys. The more you look into the music and the man, though, the more you will learn that he is completely serious. For him, “Partying” is not a weekend activity, relegated to the non-working hours. It is a way of life. He implores all of his fans to wake up and be ready to party. No missed opportunities, no regrets. Don’t stop living in the red. This is the essence of Andrew WK, and god bless him for it. Certainly a noble cause if there ever was one.

A Case for Mr. Fahrenheit

I’m not going to pussy-foot around this. I’m going to go in swinging. Freddy Mercury is the greatest rock singer of all time. Notice I’m not adding any weak-ass qualifiers like, “might be”, or “one of the”. There is no question in my mind. That man was rock music in it’s largest and purest iteration.

Queen was a band made for stadiums, and Freddy , to quote the Decemberists, was meant for the stage. He was born to work the roiling, fevered masses into a wild, fist-pounding madness. Queen was what every 80′s hair metal wanted to be, only classier and minus any stupid gimmicks. Unwaveringly brash, unfailingly grand, and larger than life itself. I have a hard time imagining “Stone Cold Crazy” or  ”Bicycle Race” being played in some small, dingy club. These songs ached for a higher purpose.

When most people are tasked to name the defining Queen song, they come up with “Bohemian Rhapsody”. These people are probably right. For me, however, the song that characterized Queen and Freddy Mercury was “Somebody to Love”.

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There’s one vocalist on the track, but really, there are two vocal identities at work: The lead, and the choir. The interplay between Freddy Mercury and the layered version of himself is beautiful, a dynamic reminiscent of something from a greek tragedy.

The progression of the track can only be described as epic. On your first listen, you think that the bridge after the second  chorus is the song’s high point, and that afterward the thing will wrap up. Then the song says, “Fuck you, that was nothing motherfucker” by jumping right into the third verse like what preceded was a walk in the park.

As it builds to it’s actual climax, the song eschews any other flourishes of phrase and focuses on the crux of the matter. It builds the singular phrase, “Find me somebody to love” into a crescendo of melody and harmony, among thunderous drums and a rumbling, torrential piano. By the end, the vocals are so tight and catchy that they resemble Doo-wop. The song is glorious in its melodramatics and unforgiving in it’s scale. This is Freddy Mercury. This is Queen. This is fucking rock and roll.

“I just gotta get out of this prison cell, someday I’m gonna be free.”