Music |
Unplugged: Bryan Adams
By
Published: Jan 01, 2005
Category:
Rock
Guilty Pleasures
There’s laundry to do. A room to paint. A mess to clean up. Some task that requires more muscle than brain. Some chore you could happily avoid.
Music lightens your load. But what music?
Somewhere out there is a sainted soul who does manual labor to the harmonies of The Tallis Scholars. Or finds inspiration to lift that bale from John Coltrane.
But why look for the exalted when you’re wallowing in the mundane? No one’s watching. No one cares. You’re free. If you want to sweat to the oldies, go right ahead.
So when it’s time to get ‘er done, I vote for the straight-ahead, full-body embrace of pop music. I don’t pretend I’m ‘better’ than this music. Or that it ‘just happened’ to be on my music machine. I may have more exalted tastes — I may hide these CDs in the ‘Guilty Pleasures’ file, behind my three volumes of Proust — but once I hit play, I crank it up. Yeah, it’s cheesy. Yeah, I know better. But damn — there’s a reason this stuff was popular.
Three of my favorite ‘Guilty Pleasures’ follow. I’d love to hear about yours. So if you can read this over the music, please write me and share your favorites. And know that you’ll be helping your fellow citizens clean a room, paint a wall and just generally make this a more beautiful world.
Unplugged
Bryan Adams
Here’s a rock moment that never fails to slay me. The raspy-voiced male singer is belting out some heartfelt lyrics, backed only by a guitar. He pauses for one long, full beat. And then the machine-gun drummer pounds away, and the band hits a power chord, and you’re on your feet and ready to pump your fist and scream.
That moment — in ‘Summer of ’69’ — is the first reason to cheer Bryan Adams. Yes, it’s cheap. But it works. As do the clever growing-up, first-love lyrics and the shards of shopworn philosophy. As do the catchy hooks, the brilliantly-articulated guitar notes…
’18 Till I Die.’ Words to live by. Turn up the volume and pledge allegiance.
To buy ‘Bryan Adams Unplugged’ from Amazon.com, click here.
Greatest Hits
Billy Idol
The ideal choice for the elliptical trainer. Or the Stairmaster. Or the running machine. Why? Lots of energy, mindless lyrics (“With a rebel yell, she cried MORE! MORE! MORE!”), an unfailing beat, powerful guitars. Not too stupid, not too smart. Party music for clever people. All of which gets the sap rising and the heart pumping.
Billy Idol took the energy of punk and overlaid the hooks and production value of pop. He broke just enough ground to be new, was just safe enough to be loved by almost anyone. He snarled like a dangerous dog, but you knew he was on a leash. Now the hits have been remixed, and they sound better than ever. And what songs: “Rebel Yell,” “Dancing with Myself,” “White Wedding,” “Eyes Without a Face,” “Don’t You (Forget About Me),” “Flesh for Fantasy” — there’s not a dud here.
Two hundred calories and a nice burn in the thighs. And, to my delight and the amusement of the people on other machines, I’m dancing with myself. I’ve done worse.
For more about Billy Idol, click here.
Saw them once. The record company sent over tickets for the fourth row at a late-career show at Madison Square Garden, so I asked a friend who wore skirts so short she was fully capable of distracting the band, and off we went. For giggles, I thought.
What a surprise I got. ZZ Top was a musically sophisticated group, with guitars scientifically modified to put added horsepower behind those blues licks. And they put on an arty act — their Motown choreography blended Motown and R. Crumb into a rich, surreal show. I was charmed.
I was also on my seat, like pretty much everyone else. Couldn’t resist. ‘Gimme All Your Lovin”…’Sharp Dressed Man’…”Tush’…. ‘Sleeping Bag’…. ‘Legs.’ I’d seen the videos. Loved the logo. Secretly admired the beards.
ZZ Top makes you want to order chili, buy cowboy boots, talk funny. God bless Texas.
To buy ZZ Top’s ‘Greatest Hits’ from Amazon.com, click here.
