Current mood: argumentative
So Poison is coming back to Peoria (2008). The same Poison with the same attention whore as their front man. The same Poison that had established themselves as my generation's Monkee's.
We all loved "Cheer Up Sleepy Gene" and "Look What the Cat Dragged In," but we don't need to see Peter, Mike, Dave, and the ugly one visiting Peoria every year.
And Axel Rose has given us so much that is far more uplifting than "Something to Believe In" or "Every Rose...is screwing the opener's frontman." One day, my prayers will be answered for the True Chinese Democracy...won't they David Geffen?
I saw Poison in 2001. This is where I came to the realization of how unfortunate it was for metal when they were established.
I went to see Quiet Riot "Feel the Noise" and hear "Cherry Pie" performed by a band who may have just came too late to the hair metal scene. Honestly, Warrant's performance may have backed their claims that they weren't the next hip thing from Seattle, hence they wouldn't have a career past the debut of the genius poet that gave us "Here we are now. Entertain us."
Unfortunately, Riot's opener isn't even a foot note to me from that night. It is quite likely that we came in late for their performance. Sad since it was probably a performance that offered us a feeling of true Rock n' Roll than that offered by a three quarters of Poison.
The feeling from twelve sixteenths of Poison (thank god Max FM is rewarding those who can stand half a dose with Sebastian Bach tickets) made the concept of hell a joke. From how I was raised, hell is unlimited, never ending punishment. Faith is the Lord Jesus Christ (or Ala, Crishna, the Devil so elegantly portrayed by Al Pacino) was contained within the restraints of one of the crappiest concert venues in all of the Midwest.
It makes me sad to think that Michaels's may have stained the walls of the Mark or the Star Theater with his vocals. Peoria hasn't been offered the techodriven metal of Reznor to reestablish the rock solid foundations of Carver Arena. In other words, the building has never been ready to sustain the damage of these aging rocker's Viagra driven efforts.
"Talk Dirty to Me," "I Want Action," "Something to Believe In," and "Every Rose will always be featured on VH1, so I can beg them for a third season" were played, and honestly I was satisfied. These guys didn't deserve a set that was longer than the band that gave us Randy Rhodes.
"Hey, I know this one," from a friend who made me realize that Poison was nothing more than a record label produced act. Please, Please, Please, acknowledge that "Unskinny Pop" should never sold a single record.
I know why the concert dragged on and on. The uncaring producers brainwashed my poser retro lovin' pals, and the preceding demographic into claiming they loved this crap. If only they would wake up and smell it.
To prove I'm not an elitist. To prove I'm one of you. No matter how hammy Britney's vagina is, she can "hit me...baby...one...perhaps two more times."
But I still feel good about myself because that car crash at least did her show when she mattered.
Poison is not Guns N' Roses or Motley Crue, hence they never mattered. But you remember "Mama's Fallen Angel," and you buy a ticket to the show.
You take the time to see 16 insecure woman try to prove they worth by aligning themselves with something that was hummable.
With all the money VH1 has made with advertising for "Rock of...not quite as interesting as a Shot of (come on Brett open up, you'd do it for a 50 share)", an entire generation of, "at least I'm not a fat emo chick" could receive the therapy they deserve.
But the cash is not going to these girls, it's going to the limping frontman. And Peoria is providing enough cash that he is not skipping our venue?
Sebastian maybe worth 20 bucks and exposing your girlfriend to, but let us finally deny Brett. Or at least bring the attention to the ugly shite that is C.C.
I'm dying for a response to this blog. Maybe just maybe, with your support, I'll find a way to bring my war to my enemy. To find an outlet to preach sanity would be worth being what the cat dragged in.
"Don't let your babies grow up to be Cubs Fans, and always remember to spay or neuter your White Sox Fans," Russ Stevens
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