music / Columns

Music’s 3Rs 11.12.12: Don’t Put Your Dick In It…

November 12, 2012 | Posted by Sean Comer

*Surveys the broken landscape of this week’s Ridiculous…*

Hey, don’t look at me that way, Babies. It was that way when I got here.

Music Zone, I leave you alone for 14 days without an update, and look what I come home to see.

Welcome back to Music’s 3 Rs.

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Blessed Art The Peace-makers. R. Kelly Made Peace. Blessed Art R. Kelly…Wait, What?:
Well…I never saw this coming.

After this week, I promise, we can all go right back to making jokes about R. Kelly and watersports. But take just a moment and appreciate this.

Shit started going down last weekend after the typical Music’s 3 Rs Friday cut-off. TMZ came upon footage from an R. Kelly concert in which a scuffle broke out between a female audience member at the Nokia Theater in Los Angeles and another woman who accused the first of stealing her seat.

What happens next is actually some genuinely admirable showmanship. Watch below, as R. Kelly – like a damn boss – summons security without so much as stopping his song … or singing.

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Lil Wayne Loses Lawsuit That Never Had A Prayer In The First Place:
It was a documentary, you overrated dipshit. Not a commercial.

Rightfully so, TMZ reported this week, a Los Angeles jury ruled in favor of defendant documentarian Quincy Jones III in a lawsuit brought by Lil Wayne attempting to block the release of a documentary – collaborated on between the two – that the New Orleans rapper deemed defamatory. The suit also claimed that the release should be blocked on grounds that Jones III dared use Weezy’s own music in a documentary about him, without asking Weezy’s permission.

THE NOIVE!

As a result, the jury ruled that Wayne owes Jones III $2 million to offset profits forgone as a result of the lawsuit holding up the film’s release. The rapper reportedly wasn’t that broken up about losing the money, but still whined that the jury was “pissed off” that he didn’t show up to testify and that he wasn’t given time to recover from a seizure-like incident suffered during the trial.

Funny: he was feeling well enough to travel from New Orleans to Miami for an NBA game.

One can only figure that this mental defective never had it explained to him that a “documentary” isn’t always flattering. In fact, it’s quite often the opposite. They can be either inarguably skewed one way or another in the name of sensationalist angles or capitalizing on prevailing opinion on the subject, or so unflinchingly honest that they portray the subjects in a poor light without conspicuous, conscious effort.

Oh, and just to be clear? No, Dingus, the jury wasn’t probably “pissed.” You didn’t no-show a concert where the jury had paid to see you. This isn’t the Video Music Awards, you walking, talking hip-hop parody. Maybe your attorney didn’t explain this – or maybe he did and, much like “don’t violate your probation,” this advice failed to register – but if you don’t provide your side of the story, the jury eventually has no choice but to find for the defendant.

Would someone please explain to me how this drooling, ego-maniac simpleton with more money than sense out-sells Lupe Fiasco by the millions?! I’m clearly missing something here…

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How Didn’t No Doubt See This Coming?:
Hey, members of No Doubt? It seems you’ve forgotten you’re based primarily in the United States of “We Take Offense!”

As announced with an official blog entry/apology, the SoCal pop/alt-rock veterans yanked their recently debuted “Looking Hot” music video offline after American Indian groups expressed offense at the cowboys-versus-indians motif. The video’s look included band members decked out as cowboys and lead singer Gwen Stefani as a sexy indian.

“Our new video was never to offend, hurt or trivialize Native American people, their culture or their history. As a multi-racial band our foundation is built upon both diversity and consideration for other cultures. Although we consulted with Native American friends and Native American studies experts at the University of California, we realize now that we have offended people.”

Well, in the short time I’ve been writing here, I must say that this is a first: a story that I could’ve reasonably categorized in any of the three sections.

It’s a step to the “Right” that No Doubt made a candid, sincere apology that they hurt anyone’s feelings. Similarly, it’s right to point out that before choosing this video’s direction, they consulted directly with friends and experts to whose ancestors Stefani would be…*ahem*…paying tribute.

There was at least an effort to get some feedback and make an informed decision. Dumber things have been done based on far less.

On the other hand, I could’ve deemed this “Ridiculous” on two fronts. One, it was a pretty damn stupid video in the first place that had, give or take, fuck-all to do with the song. It demonstrated that No Doubt have sunk so far as to actually needing to concoct such a non-sequiter scenario to rationalize getting Gwen-bloody-Stefani into a sexy cosplay.
More importantly, and more strongly justifying the basement rating … You dressed a blonde white woman up as an indian. What in ThunderFuck did you EXPECT would happen?!

In the end, I split the difference. It’s one thing when the likes of Madonna, Chris Brown, Lady Gaga or Rihanna court controversy; with those four, it’s both willful AND par for the course. In this case, though No Doubt ultimately did the right thing and I honestly didn’t see anything patently mocking about Stefani’s performance (though puzzlingly silly) that warranted outrage, this was a most avoidable shitstorm into which the band blindly wandered.

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What the f*** did you THINK would happen?!:
This never, ever exactly needed definitive proof. That being acknowledged, it still bears repeating: nothing remotely intelligent or even remotely good has ever or will ever come from Nickelback.

I’m predictively categorizing under that blanket statement whatever dimwit offspring might grow from the combined toxic genetic material of that beady-eyed moron’s Joan Jett, Avril Lavigne, and humanity’s closest guess at what Jesus would look like if Jon Jones held him down and beat him, Chad Kroeger.

The Canadian band’s throaty douche-canoe singer himself recently sat down with Cosmopolitan For Men Men’s Health for an interview seemingly designed to prove beyond any remaining shadows of doubt that the band has far lower moments ahead of them than their 2011 Thanksgiving Day NFL halftime performance in Detroit.

Take heart if that scares you. There are moments proving that the wisest man is the one who’s afraid.

“I think the fans get it. They understand when we’re joking,” Kroeger said, trying to give himself perhaps far too much credit for being anything resembling clever. “For the average listener, who just has music on in the background, they’re probably not going to pay too much attention. Any irony falls on deaf ears.”

So, Mr. Kroeger – you’re saying that the very best way to “appreciate” your monotonous, bland modern rock is to pay as little attention to it as humanly possible?

No signs present indicated presence of fecal matter, Detective Holmes. Have forensic specialists yet ascertained the wetness of water?

That’s not what I really call “wrong.” Oh, not even remotely.

“We’ve always been very close to our crew, so we’ve had a lot of fun getting them to do silly, stupid things that could possibly cause them to hurt or injure themselves in some way,” said somebody that I hope one day gets a checkup from a vengeful urologist who’s read this interview in full. “We were in Germany years ago—this was one of my favorite stories—and we were just bored. There was a heat wave going on in Germany. In a back room in the venue where we were playing, there was an old fan with a metal blade. I don’t remember the last time I saw a fan with a metal blade. And we paid the drum tech…. Oh god, I forget the exact amount. I think we got the pot up to about 600 deutschmarks. At this time Germany hadn’t converted to the Euro yet. I can still hear the ‘bleh-bleh-blehhhhhhh’ of the blade slowly sputtering to a stop, and this blood-curdling scream. It was fantastic. Somebody has video footage of this somewhere that needs to be resurrected and shown at the guy’s next birthday party.”

Honestly? I can’t decide one way or another who needs to be pushed to the head of the chemical-castration queue: Kroeger, to just this once, curtail congenital dickery at its slope-browed source; or the drum technician in question here – if the whirling fan blade didn’t get the job done – because, in my amateur “medical” opinion, any future offspring he fathers are likely to drown young as a result of staring straight upward and open-mouthed into a downpour … probably because someone promised them a nickel apiece.

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Lady Gaga Drags Adele Into Her Weight-Gain “Controversy”:

Ever so rarely, the 411mania comment section virtually does my job for me.

Heaven knows why this ought still be even worth discussing, since Lady Gaga’s weight gain transformed her from “fit and trim” to a very average curvaceous form more Jennifer Love Hewitt than Madonna or Gwen Stefani. Still, Gaga’s Stylist interview broached the matter once more of Gaga quite quickly packing on 30 pounds to a once-toned frame, and opened the door to a misplaced, ill-thought-out comparison the Grammy winner made between herself and Adele.

“I was acutely aware of some photos on the internet – my mum called me and was like, ‘Did you gain weight?’ – everybody was telling me about it, and I didn’t really care,” Gaga said. “But when I heard it was on the news, where they talk about wars, the economy crashing and the election – I just thought, ‘This is ****ing ridiculous.’ I mean, what kind of example is that to a young girl sitting at home? I thought, well, I don’t really care if they think I’m fat, because, quite honestly, I did gain about 30 pounds.”

So far, so good. That’s a valid point: only among the famous is a mere mortal’s physique actually considered mildly remarkable, if only for its environmental rarity.

Pity she hadn’t an apparent clue when to stop talking.

“Adele is bigger than me, how come nobody says anything about it?” Gaga wondered. “She’s so wonderful and I think her confidence is something I have to match. She has the set the bar very high for a lot of women. I need to be a confident woman and just say politically active things when I can that are helpful to young people.”

When Good Mr. Jeffrey Harris reported this story earlier this week, reader “osnwa” remarked, “Maybe it’s because Gaga has made a career of showing off as much skin as she possibly can in order to attract attention, while Adele has used her talent to get noticed and sell music.”

Nailed it.

That’s not even a remotely fair comparison. The only kinds of people who could experience a sensitivity and set of pipes like Adele’s and give a fifth of a solid shit that she’s no Skinny Minnie are the types of Internet blights who took to Twitter to assail her body image after the six-time Grammy winner gave birth to her first son last month.

Gaga, by contrast? Precious, your image is Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant; your music is Ricky Steamboat and Randy Savage. The difference between Adele and, say, David Bowie or her namesake authors Queen is that neither’s image ever overshadowed formidable, acclaim-worthy artistic brilliance. When a hefty chunk of your entire image presenting a first impression of you is one of intense, overt sexuality that often includes showing off a sculpted, lean body, it’s a display of colossal ignorance to actually believe that nobody’s going to notice when you gain 30 pounds.

For that matter, it’s massively hypocritical to be in constant neck-and-neck running with Rihanna for Music’s Biggest Female Kooky-Image Whore one minute, and bitching the next that the attention you’ve perpetually, obsessively drawn to your body leads to it being impossible to ignore when you traipse about wearing the same next-to-nothing outfits with a physique that renders them no longer flattering/advisable to be worn in front of cameras and fans who will capture the images and sear them into the Internet forever and ever.

Adele is a beautiful, confident woman. She has every right to be because her musical gifts and soul transcend a need to have a Shape-approved six-pack. Gaga has long since made her decision how she chose to craft her notoriety: letting being an image oddity unfortunately often overshadow prodigious musical prowess.

Each artist made her bed. Adele just made hers much more comfortably, and sleeps soundly as deserved.

Gaga? Maybe not so much. Take perhaps a hint from Tori Amos, Amanda Palmer, or – just a thought – Adele herself: if you don’t want your body to be your hallmark because you can’t stand up to the scrutiny when it the mountains start to go to Mohammed (read our comment sections sometimes – that scrutiny can be an unforgiving motherfucker sometimes), then don’t make it a magnet.

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Porn’s Most Tired Attention Grab…Now Starring Miley Cyrus!:
Convincing straight men to watch naked women shouldn’t take what anyone would call “effort.”

If it does for you, then you just may be worse at what you do than anybody could be at anything. We’re talking “James Toney in the UFC” worthless.

And yet? Here Sex.com is, according to TMZ. Media Director Martin Ellison delivered unto Cyrus a $1-million offer for the “Party in the U.S.A.” singer and one-time Hannah Montana star to make a naked “make-out” video for the site. Porn star Jessie Andrews recently made a cameo appearance during Cyrus’ “Decisions” music video shoot at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel’s Beacher’s Madhouse.

“We were floored at how sexy both her and porn star Jessie Andrews look together,” Ellison said, adding that hardcore sex isn’t a “must” for the performance. “How far Miley chooses she wants to go is entirely up to her.”

Punch your weight, sir. No further.

Stunts like this tend to work under but two circumstances: one, the offer is extended to somebody of questionably deserved “fame” – such as Chyna, Octomom, or most deplorably, accused/acquitted child-murderer Casey Anthony – who needs the money and has a sturdy 15 minutes of fame worth mining; on the other hand, are celebrities whose home-video sexy times are unexpectedly leaked to the public, leading the famous folk to at least make the best/quick bucks off the now-public footage before the clock runs down on the notoriety.

Now, inviting somebody still fairly famous such as Cyrus to make a porn? Come, now…

(Huh-huh-huh…”Come”…”Now”…huh…)

There’s no compelling reason to believe this would work. They’re clearly hoping to gain more just from the word of the offer being attached to Cyrus’s name and perhaps giving their Google-search performance a friendly, momentary-niche bounce.

To everybody else, though, it just looks somewhat like Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted “Theodore” Logan actually asking Eddie Van Halen to be their new lead guitarist: adorable, but fairly sad.

You’re promoting naked women, Sex.com; they’re really not that much effort required.

Well, that’s the Right, wRong and Ridiculous that was, Babies. All of my congratulations to Paul “Paw” Schuler and Elisa Hansen. You may remember that two weeks ago, I featured Paw’s recent Music Movies review of Little Shop of Horrors as the usual ThatGuyWithTheGlasses.com music-reviewer closeout to the column. Well, he and his fellow TGWTG-producer girlfriend announced this past Monday night that they’re now engaged.

To celebrate, check out Paw’s most recent Music Movies installment, The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living And Became Mixed-Up Zombies. Also, do follow him on Twitter (@PawDugan) to be updated on his show updates every Friday, and also follow @ElisaInTime to be updated on her likewise-stellar Blip.TV-and-TGWTG web series covering vampire cinema, Maven of the Eventide.

Mention you heard about them here for one complimentary “What the frack is 411mania.com?!” Limit one per customer.

Also, to make up for the lack of Rs last week, also enjoy another great moment in music education from TGWTG and Radio Dead Air: Nash Bozard’s recent episode of The Musical Chair profiling the genius of Ted Leo. Follow Nash on Twitter @Nash076, and catch his 5-hour, Monday-night show Radio Dead Air every Monday night at 9 p.m. ET at Live.Radiodeadair.com…

Until next week, don’t dull your colors for someone else’s canvas.


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Sean Comer

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