rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

Last Will and Teastament: The Massive Killers Piece Part 2
(On the Ascendancy of the Abyss, the Magic of Denial and the End of punkrockblues)

      ..... this is after all, a music blog.

     Over the last year I've purchased all 4 Killers CDs, had to buy 'Sam's Town' twice as it was in the player when my house burned down. As always I bought them out of order but have found small warm places in my heart for all of them. As I type this, their newest CD 'Day and Age' sits perched defiantly at #6 in Billboard's (and thus, America's) Top Ten, proving once and for all that my credibility as a wannabe rock critic is just gone, daddy, gone.

     Number SIX, fer chissakes.

    But one lokes what one likes and I really like this band because thewir entire body of work makes me play air guitar, lip synch singalong and most importantly, can make me laugh w/tears in my eyes, like I'm actually connecting on some real level w/these 4 classically trained control freaks who clearly want to take over the world. Still I am moved by their vaguer than vauge sentiments that may have little surface meaning, but to this old dog sounds remarkably like an intelligent heart asking 'Why?" ( the only real question. no?) w/both question marks and exclamation points. And in this day and age, that's enough for me.

     I told you we were doomed, right?
     Well, I've decided that when the wolf comes to MY door, I'm gonna eat the motherfucker.   
     The magic of denial!

     Now I could go on and on, like I did in my longhand notebook, about the pretentious bombast of the Killers' brushed chrome rush of talent on fire that skims the psychic nerves w/tantalizing high notes suggesting not only the existence of perfection, but the possibility of yr place in it as well, all carried on highwaves of Ronnie Vannucci's drums and the Paul McCartney on Bruce Thomas bass rumbling melodies of Mark Steuremer's bass or the dazzling fragments of higher composition that seem to snap out of guitarist Dave Kuening's pedalboard w/alarming regularity and of course there could be pages and pages of praise for the vocal wonder that is Brandon Flowers, but that'd all just be wannabe rock critic crap and I have no credibility, remember?

     Number SIX!!!

     In any event, the Killers are a great band and don't need my help andd I've basically stopped wondering if anyone else feels the same way as I do when I listen to them, or whether that's important, or maybe I make it too important adnw ho gives a fuck when we could all be on fire by midnight and all that crap that comes up when you (I) think too much. So what else to say?

     This page started out as a love letter to Mott the Hoople written by a  man about 2 bad decisions away from a nervous breakdown.

    Now it's like, what? 6 bad decisions later and I'm still here. Must have made a good one here and there. huh?

     Let's see, since I started typing this crap I've gone through one marriage (Lynn and I are going  on a date to see 'Watchmen' next month. She say's hi!), about 15 jobs (comin' up on a year at the Western Convenience, where I am loved, appreciated and have finally found a home), a 3 month relationship wreck w/Jackie (saw her last week, she's getting married in April, seems really happy for once and ALSO says hello), enough family drama, trauma, betrayal and bad behavior (especially mine) to fill 2 seasons of the Sopranos, have seen my littl barband Flashback grow into a showcase for my friend Rob Poulignot (he's singing everything now, and it's given us a new lease on life) and am now excitedly looking forward to the upcoming Tension Envelope reunion show in April. It's not wasted on me that a lot of people are going waaaaaaaaaaaaay out of their way to make this happen and I am not going to let them down. The theatre's booked, we get it for a full day of rehearsal as well as the entire day of the show. All I had to do was ask for the key.

     Ihave work to do and as much as I used to love coming here and typing at y'all, iys become obvious to me that my beloved little punkrockblues has become little more than the longest and most boring 'argument' between pinhead me and pinhead Jim. Y'now when I came here all I really wanted to do was believe in rock and roll again and I think all Jim's evet wanted was to win something.

     So in the name of Lesterfarian charity, Jim, I concede. You win. She's all yours. I hope you enjoy the victory, it's not just any Christian who can waste three years of his ministry shouting down an aging punk rocker who just wanted to talk about Mott the Hoople, I'm sure Jesus would be proud.


     So, later guys, this ain't goodbye, I'll turn up somewhere and as, always, I can be reached at timbyrnes@antimusic.net   But for the next little while I have a rock and roll show to organize, promote and enjoy the hell out so it's a minor adiue for this dude but I betcha I'll be back before you know it, not killing babies and selling DVDs. But for now, I got a Tension Envelopes show to practice.........................



(Loudly into microphone: FUCK YOU AND YOU AND YOU AND YOU AND >>>>)

Posted by: timbyrnes at 19:43 | link | comments (1)

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