Hench!

>>>Now, I consider myself to be a man of delicate tastes and sensibilities. But why is it that I just can’t stand certain musicians generally considered to be works of genius? For instance:

Bob Dylan: Never liked the guy. Never thought he was interesting, hated his songs, found his voice annoying. Don’t like most Dylan covers. I listen to Hendrix do All Along the Watchtower, I think to myself that he should have covered the Sonic’s Strychnine instead—after all, he was a Seattle boy. What the hell is the mystique from this guy? Songs like The Times They Are a Changing (Changin’?) and Joey Joey make me want to barf, and I like a lot of 60’s music. What’s wrong with me? Is it because my parents weren’t hippies? That can’t be it. I’ve tried to like Bob Dylan, lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve actually gotten angry at myself that I don’t like his stuff. I’ve even pretended to like his stuff when my friends get all drunkenly serious and play some Dylan song for me. Sheesh!

Gang of Four: I have that Entertainment! album and I think it sort of sucks. I feel like I should be taking the short bus to the special school in the morning because I don’t like this band! Help! If I can’t bring myself to like a band of post-punk Communists playing neutered funk, maybe I need a tetnus booster or something.

Cream: First of all, Eric Clapton should jerk off alone, like the rest of us. Second of all, ever see the movie “Bring it on”? It was originally called “The Eric Clapton story. The other two guys in Cream can go to hell, too. I liked the Yardbirds a lot, though.

Neil Young: Sounds like a child trapped in at the bottom of a well.

>>>On the other hand, I do like several REALLY questionable musical acts. I make fun of them here, but I can assure you, gentle reader, that I listen to them without a trace of irony.

Public Image Limited: I don’t just like the second album, the one that all you hipsters own, I have EVERYTHING THEY EVER PUT OUT. On vinyl! Even that awful, late-eighties AOR shit that sounded like the Soup Dragons fronted by a castrated vicar. I’ve paid out my fucking ear for these terrible albums, too, that’s the worst part.

DGeneration: Thirty something old men playing glammed-out Hanoi Rocks-ish sounding NYC streetpunk in the mid-nineties. Their second album, No Lunch, is a fucking cornball classic. I’ve listened to it at least once a month for . . . I guess almost a decade now. The singer has the fucking funniest rhymes. For instance, he creates the word “ginamony” to rhyme with “phony.” Hot shit.

Sisters of Mercy: Someday I’ll dress all in black leather and drive a pink hearse through LA at night, and when I do I’ll be glad I have two CDs of cheesy goth metal from these guys. I mean, they had a vision. Their vision was to make music that would be at home in an 80s horror movie about an android cop who goes to battle against of coven of scantily clad witches. And they committed that vision to CD, and it’s great. Bring on the smoke machines and mirrored aviator shades.