Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

The Cure - Boys Don't CryAdmittedly, this one may be a little bit on the nose. How could I resist though?

The Joup Friday Album: Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral

TDS-Cover-768x768Ah, moving!

New places are weird. Every creak is a sign that the house will collapse on itself any second. Every strange voice passing on the sidewalk outside is surely a murder cult on a mission. My days are numbered. There’s still that signature stink of other people’s lives – mushroomed in our case by a faulty sewage extractor that the previous owners insisted “worked just fine.”

You get what you pay for, and we didn’t pay much.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

ICE T OGBack in the day – and by that I suppose at this point in modern, self-referential history I should qualify the specific day I am referring to as the 1980s – hip hop was not yet mainstream music. Not only was it not mainstream, but it generally was not referred to as Hip Hop, the accepted term instead being Rap for most anyone outside of the circles where the then-start up music was actually being made, i.e. New York and Los Angeles and their satellite communities. Rap wasn’t on the radio unless some daring local jock played White Lines or Rapper’s Delight, and it wasn’t until Run DMC and Aerosmith collaborated on a remake/update of the already classic-rock-radio-staple Walk this Way that Rap moved out into the Mainstream music culture and began its steady ascent to take hold of every other form of music.

The Joup Friday Album: Dio – Holy Diver

Dio-Holy-Diver1Filling in for Katie J. VanWormer until next Friday, when KJ will return to douse this place with sonic gasoline and write an article about Deicide’s greatest album… no, no, I can’t keep a straight face there. You can tell I’m lying because, well, Deicide doesn’t have a ‘greatest album’, they don’t even have a great or a good one. But then I suppose I should watch whose house I throw stones at today, as I might find myself a guest there later. Like the topic of today’s Fill-In Joup Friday Album.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Blessed Black WingsFighting. I don’t have a lot of fighting stories, because I don’t fight much. The reason I don’t fight much is, well, now it’s because I’m an adult (for the most part) and I just don’t conduct myself that way. However, when I wore a younger man’s shoes I could often walk around in a pretty angry state of mind, and, well, you know, shit happens. Altercations. Bad Blood. For me, my attitude toward fighting was pretty “I will if I have to” with chances of “oh hell yes I’m gonna” until my senior year in high school, when something happened that taught me to avoid physical confrontation whenever possible. I’ll get around to that story next time the slots come up “fighting” on this machine. In the interim, this week I’d like to play you a song about fighting. It’s by High On Fire and it’s pretty awesome. The opening line is, “Drive the fist into your face and blacken your eyes.”

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

Full Custom Gospel SoundsStatement: You can drink to most any music, but not all music was crafted to drink to.

Furthermore, there is some music specifically made to accompany the act of drinking and, perhaps more specifically, intoxication.

Elaboration: If I’m having a couple of beers I can toss anything on. When I’m with my friends in Chicago, the ones I grew up with, the ones I socked it out in the Schlitz Family Robinson with, then it’s a different thing, and it’s going to require a different soundtrack.

Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

zap_caveAnd we’ve come to crying. Anyone here unable to admit to crying from time to time? More than time to time? In some reverse macho way I love crying – it’s one of the reasons I always keep a handful of albums by The Cure on hand. Crying is such a visceral, cathartic experience, it’s like nothing else, except maybe sneezing (which I used to overlook until I read Anton Lavey’s article about sneezing where he refers to it as ‘little death’).

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