I’ve complained about the radio station that plays in my office before. It’s evil because their playlist consists mostly of songs that are so neutral that you let your defenses down. You hardly even know the music is there. Then they spring some fucking Air Supply on you and your day is ruined because sooner or later you’ll be approached by a coworker who asks you, “Dude, are you humming ‘All Out of Love’?” It’s the worst songs that fucking stick in your head. Anyone who has ever heard Karma Chameleon can tell you that.
So I was sitting there, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I realized that I was listening to fucking Chicago play Hard to Say I’m Sorry, which I hate with the burning intensity of a million exploding suns. If I was put in a room with a lion, a tiger, an enraged gorilla, Peter Cetera, and a gun with two bullets, I’d fucking shoot Peter Cetera twice. If given the option, I’d infect myself with genital-Ebola before I’d listen to that musical abortion again. Jesus, do I hate that fucking song.
You know that show on VH1 called Storytellers, where they get a band to tell a story about a song before they play it? It’s not nearly as interesting as it sounds because they never tell you the story you want to hear. It’s usually some stupid crap about sitting in an airport, thinking about a girl when everyone wants to hear stories of rock and roll depravity.
Peter Gabriel: So I was ass-fucking this pair of conjoined twins while Vanna White gave me a cocaine and coffee enema, when the thought came to me in a flash: I need more heroin! And while I was waiting for my drug mule to come in, I wrote Sledgehammer.
Anyway, they should have a special episode of Storytellers with Chicago, only instead of Peter Cetera telling everyone how he came up with the idea for Hard To Say I’m Sorry while he was douching, people would come up on stage and tell stories about how much they hate that song and then they’d kick that goofy looking fucker in the goddamn nuts.
I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t like that song.
Yeah, see what I mean? Another thing that really irritates me about that song is the band itself. I was born and raised in the Chicago area, and let me tell you something about Chicago: It fucking rules. It’s a major city, with tons of fun shit to do year round, the residents are no nonsense, salt-of-the-Earth type people, and I used to be able to buy beer at Wrigley Field when I was 14. So to have a band named after your city suck ass like that, it’s… it’s a fucking disgrace is what it is. It’s like going to your kid’s school talent show, and your kid gets up there and licks his asshole for twenty minutes. It may be an impressive display of flexibility, but that’s of little comfort when you’re packing up and moving to join the Witness Protection Program out of embarrassment.
Now there are some people out there that will point out that early Chicago is actually tolerable, and songs like 25 or 6 to Four are decent. Ok, whatever. I’m sure Jeffrey Dahmer said some cute shit as a toddler, but that doesn’t change the fact that he fucking ate dudes. Looking up Chicago’s early days on Wikipedia, I discovered that Chicago was known as the Chicago Transit Authority until the actual Chicago Transit Authority got wind of that:
Chicago Transit Authority (the actual transit authority): Look, we’re going to need you guys to change your name.
Chicago Transit Authority (the “band”): Why?
Chicago Transit Authority (the actual transit authority): Why? Because fuck you, that’s why. Now get the fuck out of here you fucking sack-wranglers.
Chicago Transit Authority (the “band”): (goes home to weep on decorative silk pillow)
Seriously, couldn’t the name Chicago have been reserved for a kick ass rock and roll band? Boston has a pretty good band named after itself. Why couldn’t Chicago have a band like that?
Bostonian: Yeah, we gaht a fackin’ band! “Smokin! Smokin’! Boogie tonight, baby keep on tokin’!” Now that’s some fackin’ rock and roll!
Chicagoan: Our band had Peter Cetera in it.
Bostonian: Oh, that’s a wicked pissah, pallie. Why don’t you put your fackin’ head in an oven and get it fackin’ over with already?
For a city that’s so steeped in the blues and has such a rich musical history, Chicago isn’t really known for its great bands. If you ask people which bands are associated with Seattle, for instance, they’ll say Jimi Hendrix, or Nirvana, or Pearl Jam. These are the only three bands people can think of when asked to name a popular Chicago rock band:
- Smashing Pumpkins
We’ve already discussed Chicago. Styx? Well, anyone who was alive in Chicago in the late 70’s/early 80’s has a soft spot for Styx because Paradise Theater was such a huge hit, and it was nice for Chicago to be known for something other than winning a World Series once every trillion years. But seriously, does any city want to be associated with the song First Time? (WARNING: DO NOT WATCH OR LISTEN TO THIS VIDEO!)
The only good part of that video is the typo in the beginning which identifies the song as “Fist Time”. Fist time is what the rest of Styx should have given Dennis DeYoung after he wrote that quivering hunk of shit. Seriously, it’s like Dennis DeYoung and Peter Cetera had a baby, gave it brain damage, and then let the baby write a song to see what would happen. That’s not music, that’s a tragic waste of the human spirit. Jesus.
As for the Smashing Pumpkins, I dunno, they’ve got some good songs. But Billy Corgan seems like a pretentious queef and his head looks like a fucking peanut:
Ok, where was I? Oh yeah, I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you, I know you were right believing for so long… OH GODDAMIT! THAT’S IT! I’M NEVER GOING INTO THE OFFICE AGAIN!!!