Ouch

So I’m reading through this post about how your favorite band describes you at Middle Finger, and I’m chuckling at some of the funny ones, e.g.

Jimi Hendrix: You are under 20 or over 65
Chicago: You are incapable of talking about Chicago without mentioning their horn section
Van Halen: You have a Peeing Calvin bumper sticker on your Ford F100
Bachman-Turner Overdrive: You have an actual urine stain on your Ford F100
— and —
AC/DC: You are the cause of the urine stain

All funny stuff, until you see this one:

Joe Walsh: You have fired a gun while in your underwear

Has somebody been spying on me?

Star, Gone

I had been pondering a post about songstress Olivia Newton-John for a couple days, when in one of those “synchronicity” moments I read about her death from cancer at age 73.

I never cared much for her music — that breathy Oz soprano does nothing for me — and I’ll always remember Alun Jones’s stinging first line of a review of the syrupy “I Honestly Love You” in Melody Maker: “…and I honestly think Olivia Newton-John is a cabbage.”

And I would agree, except for the lovely Magic  and the astonishing Xanadu  which, despite the nauseating 80’s disco feel, actually shows that the girl had a decent voice — the concluding ascendo  to the final top note is absolutely breathtaking.

The reason for me thinking about her, incidentally, is that Magic  was my weekend earworm.

R.I.P., Sheila.