07.Mar.2003

sugar and spice?

--

isn't it nice?

Dave Gahan, the proverbial voice of Depeche Mode, is releasing a solo album which will pander to the rampant viscerality of imbecilic, leather-clad 30-year-olds who slept on slabs of cold concrete for People are People's release.

Although Dave is my favorite idiot of all time, this unhinges my naturally serene composure. Should he, by the stalwart will of an omnipresent, Mauna-Loa-Volcano-shifting deity, reach platinum status, we here at Alan Wilder is the Supreme Being of Music are praying vigorously for the Impaling of the Nail(tm) into the Depeche Mode coffin.

Bury it, comrades. Grace Slick and I cannot handle this Popstars in Midlife Crisis bacchanal any longer.

--

Before Martin Gore evidently began courting 12-year-old boys, he was one of my favorite song-writers in the whole of the world. His rhyming schemes were deliciously impeccable. He also beheld an irreproachable taste in snow-leopard-print bikini briefs.

Now, he is simply left with tattered panties and an affinity for mimicking John Frusciante's infamous guitar-riff waffling.

To bastardize one of my personal favorite poets, William Carlos Williams,

"so much depends
upon
a platitudinous rock
star
glazed with jejune
banality
beside a Victoria's
Secret."

Remember kids, opinion is not fact.

This was a My Definition of Hell is Being Stuck with Andy Rooney on an International Flight production.

--

time & machine