Weezer > Tenacious D in just about every conceivable equation, except for live performances. Pinkerton, the Blue Album, and to some extent the Green Album, are examples of some of the best pop-rock to hit the 90s and early 2000s. The D’s debut is flawless, but 2006’s The Pick of Destiny is virtually unlistenable. I was primped and properly anticipating one of the best nights of music entertainment I’d ever witnessed, that dreary day back in late 2001, but I left feeling unfulfilled by the mighty kings of Weez. Not knowing what to expect, and marginally perplexed by the unconventional pairings of these two seemingly unlinkable bands, I walked away, past a sea of parked, vacant cars, wishing the D had been the headliner. Subdued, shoe-gazing, stand-still rock certainly has its place, but the 22-year-old version of yours truly wanted no part of it.
Gone are the leisure-filled days of stopping off at the local record shop on the way home from school to snatch, if no necessary deals were found, free mock-ticket ads for upcoming Milwaukee area shows. This particular night in May of 2000 featured a masked gimp stage diving and picking fights with select, drunk patrons (Dwarves), a wall-echoing, room-filled chant of East Coast pride (“East Coast F— You” by Bouncing Souls), and an eager and overly-excited pop-punk-loving Milwaukee crowd rushing the stage to share the mic for a final encore (Dropkick Murphys). All-in-all, it was a rather memorable, aggression exhausting evening some 14 years ago.
I’d also like to add how atrocious it is to post from the WordPress app via iPhone. A hiccup in the Cal Ripkin-like post streak was in jeopardy more than a few times these past few days…
Bob Dylan, for me, has never been the pedestal-placing monarch that many people view him as. I’ve always respected Robert Zimmerman, the Minnesota native, and have conveniently dodged his raspy snarls when hand-selecting my life’s playlist. I certainly have nothing against his revolutionary impact on pop music, or his distinctive brand of folk-rock, I guess I just never really got around to it. With the (more than) understood philosophy of “too little music, not enough time,” the bellowing observations of Mr. Dylan never made the cut. He’d been Chopped before ever entering my personal music kitchen, for those of you who are fans of The Food Network.
An opportunity presented itself back in (date) that would have been unbelievably stupid to pass up. My mom scored free tickets to a Bob Dylan performance in Madison, WI, and kindly offered them to me. Using the term scored as a drug reference when referring to my mother is humorous to me, and kind of appropriate for ol’ Bob’s transcendent vibe. Anyway, to make a short story even longer, my show-going companion and I got the time of the show mixed up (by a good couple hours) and we arrived just as ol’ Times They Are A Changin’ had started his 2nd encore. He played All Along the Watchtower, something else I didn’t recognize, and then he was gone.
Perhaps if I’d been more of a fan (or one at all), I’d have made sure of the correct time, but never the less, I can truthfully say, I’ve seen Bob Dylan.