Fish In A Barrel | March 2006

Snarky Humor: The Walrus was Paul?


FUN FACT: Did you know that FIAB has the eerie ability to read celebs’ inner monologues? Allow us to demonstrate with Robert Trujillo and tragic hanger-on Winona Ryder:

RT: Finally! I knew she’d fall for “The ’Jillo” eventually. If I can just stop snickering at that stupid Catcher in the Rye T-shirt, I’ll be home free.

WR: Cool beans! One trip to Winona Country and this guy’s career is history!


The Walrus Forced to Pass on Grass | As if we didn’t already know it, more proof has surfaced that Heather Mills-McCartney is a total buzz kill. The one-legged PETA enthusiast, noted Krazytown resident, and legend ruiner reportedly refused to marry Sir Paul until he stopped smoking weed. Despite her (less than groundbreaking) background in the substance-tastic modeling industry, Mills says she’s never used drugs herself and “never really drank either until [she] met Paul.” She adds, “I was recently drunk on two glasses of wine at a Christmas party. I’m a very cheap date.” Wow, we’re a long way from the days of mescaline and the Maharishi, eh Paul? George would be so disappointed. If you want to earn our respect again, you might consider using the artificial limb as a bong when she’s out cold in one of her psychotic manic states.

Mediocre Talent Is Multi-Faceted | In our continuing effort to keep you informed of crap you should buy so we can borrow it, we’ve come across a strangely earnest offering from Rhino Records, who we usually respect for their savvy reissues. On March 28, they’ll release Unexpected Dreams: Songs From the Stars, a collection of lullaby-style songs sung by a multitude of B- to C-listers and described as “the perfect soundtrack for quiet evenings at home with your children…or without them.” Um, eww. Do they really think any non-retarded couple is going to make sweet love as Full House’s Uncle Jesse croons Billy Joel’s “Goodnight My Angel”? Or as that lady from My Big Fat Greek Wedding warbles the Beatles’ “Golden Slumbers”? Although we are strangely compelled to hear Scarlett Johansson’s take on the Gershwins’ “Summertime” (her bosom is just that mesmeric) and see potential delight in how Teri Hatcher and her forehead vein (thanks, HDTV!) could devastate the Beatles’ “Goodnight.” A portion of the proceeds will benefit Los Angeles Philharmonic’s music education program Music Matters—we suggest they return that money with a polite note asking to not be contacted again.

Lineup Lineup | Oh, the grey monotony of late winter. A time when our melatonin-
hungry bodies long for springtime, midseason replacements are long-ago cancelled, and we can’t find a decent pair of boots to save our lives. It’s this time of year when we watch hopefully for summer rock festivals to poke their heads out of their winter burrows. If Coachella sees its shadow, that means 12 more weeks of Lollapalooza, and…oh, fuck it. This analogy sucks. Readers, your Summer lineups: Coachella (April 29–30, Indio, Calif.) offers up strangely mismatched (and only exciting if we travel back in time) co-headliners Depeche Mode and Tool, with supporting sets from a glut of bands ranging from sorta established (Sleater-Kinney, Franz Ferdinand, Yeah Yeah Yeahs) to hipster darlings of the moment (The Like, She Wants Revenge, Cat Power, My Morning Jacket, Matisyahu, Damian Marley) to already over (Bloc Party, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah) to lamest lameo that ever lamed it up (James Blunt). Next, Bonnaroo (June 16–18, Manchester, Tenn.) de-crunchifies its vibe a bit with Radiohead, Beck, Death Cab, and Elvis Costello among the top billers, but throws the ’heads a bone by including Phil Lesh and Friends, Tom Petty, and Bela Fleck. Other scheduled acts include Bright Eyes (still? really?) and—oh hey, look at that—Cat Power, My Morning Jacket, Matisyahu, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and Damian Marley. Lollapalooza (August 4–6, Chicago) is still playing coy with its lineup, but rumor has it that a reunited Smashing Pumpkins will headline…and hopefully get in a big snitty faux-wrestling match onstage. (Remember Corgan on Extreme Championship Wrestling a few years ago? We’re still shaken.) Thievery Corporation has claimed to be on board, and we think it’s a safe bet that some or all of the repeats above will drop by, too. Yo, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, what’s the festival equivalent of “would show up at the opening of an envelope”?

Open Letter to Ted Leo | Hi, Ted. It’s FIAB. You may have noticed us at your regional shows, hanging coolly in the back and snickering supportively at your jokes about the Midwest, then avoiding your gaze as you walked by, lest we give in to our urge to tell you everything we’ve always dreamed of saying. We’re not going to waste time any longer: Ted, we love you. We love you for your punk-pop that once employed a three-part round (Just like “Row Row Row Your Boat” in choir class!). That showed creativity. We love your bushy eyebrows and stripy sweaters. Those are just hot. We love that you tried to stick with the sinking Lookout! Records, even as they screwed you and many others. That showed loyalty. We love that Shake the Sheets’ giant FU to Bush balanced preachiness with kickass guitar solos and hooky choruses. That showed balls, and we’re sorry that you’re probably being monitored by the NSA right now. And now, Ted, now you’ve done won our hearts—you’ve mocked Bono. The slightly irrational, self-righteous, typed-in-haste [Ed.—spell-check, people!] rant on your Web site reminds us of someone close to us, someone we hold very dear. That’s right, ourselves:

I’m sitting here on the train watching “The New Order Story,” from the DVD box set Santa brought me for Christmas, and there are a few moments of commentary from Señor Vox that I’ll refrain from chategorizing, lest I “lose my s***.” But anyway, in one of them, he says “Ahh—the legendary voice! Ian Curtis!” Would have been embarrassing enough in an “obviuosness grasping at hipness” kind of way, but he has to go that one step further, HE ALWAYS HAS TO GO THAT ONE STEP FURTHER!!, and he starts singing “Love Will Tear us Apart”… WRONG. He sings: Love, love will tear us apart…SomedaaaaySomeday? F*** you, Bono.

Yes, Ted, we’re crying, but these are happy tears. You’re our new B.F.F., and we’re so going to make eye contact with you at SXSW. Then we’ll run away.

| The above are the opinions of Fish in a Barrel, and not necessarily those of the editors of PLAYBACK:stl. Just the funny ones. And the ones who think it’s hilarious that Mr. Make Poverty History is charging $88 a ticket for U2 concerts in Brazil—two thirds the average monthly wage. (That one’s for you, Ted!)



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