Buck Friday

Everyone is up in the mountains on the slopes and I'm left alone with today's one dollar record buys, sad and weepy. So...

The Replacements- All Shook Down- I was so angry at Paul Westerberg by the time this came out that I refused to buy the damn thing. Their previous record that shall remain nameless was the great sellout of my young life, and now that he had essentially kicked out the band and brought in a bunch of hired help, it was fuck you Paul and thanks for the memories you whispering piece of shit. This came out in 1990, which means it took the Replacements less than a decade to implode, and listening to it after all these years, it's better than I remember. Too much whispering, too little abandon and too clever by several degrees, but some of these songs stick. "The Last" is a great closer, and "When it Began," however fey it still might be, is adhesive. Shit abounds, but others cling. Worth a buck? Yes.

Bob Seger- Night Moves- I pick up the AM staples of my youth, even if it takes a lifetime. The cheese had begun to sneak in, but the cheese bought the man's yacht. Do you know what this record shares with the Oblivians' Nine Songs with Mr. Quintron? Yep, both cover Young Jessie's "Mary Lou," although Bob's version is unlistenable. Worth a buck? Of course, the damn thing has "Mainstreet" on it.

L.A. Guns- S/T- if memory serves, a few of these guys were with a few of the folks who would become Guns 'n Roses, and some internal feud split that group and made these dudes the bitterest fucks in Hollywood. This record highlights what a miracle Appetite for Destruction is, as this sounds like every band you've ever heard on Headbanger's Ball when you were sitting there late Saturday night, drapes closed, contemplating self-abuse and hoping Lemmy would come on and disabuse you of the notion. Granted, I only made it through four songs, so "Bitch is Back" and "Hollywood Tease," given the obvious Kafka influence, could have changed things, but I'm struggling to generously offer much more than poor man's Crue. Worth a buck? Nope.

Lover!- S/T- both of these gentlemen have far better bands behind them. Senior Crook was with the Reatards and Lost Sounds and others, and Mr. Roberson was/is in Reigning Sound. This sounds like a lesser Knaughty Knights, but perhaps time will heal tired ears and all will illuminate itself aurally in a blinding flash of silver light. Light for the ears, hippy. Worth a buck? Sure.

Rod Stewart- Foot Loose and Fancy Free- my sister adored this record in her teens which does not surprise me (tanned 70s Cali goddess that she was), given Rod's mod beauty plastered everywhere. "Hot Legs" is a hoot, "Born Loose" is a true Faces rave up, and everything else is pretty much a total fucking embarrassment. It'd be a coin toss whether the buck was worth it if the damn thing hadn't included a twelve-page booklet with pictures and text so wonderfully appalling, I'd have paid twenty, if only for the shot of Rod on the back, in Scotland fleece way too-short and pulled up halter-style, taut belly exposed with tied-up colony trousers, while he throws back some foreign brew and looks naughtily at the camera. Oh, Roddie, you filthy, filthy cad! Worth a buck? Absolutely.

Paul Westerberg- 14 Songs- what a pleasure urination can be. That said, "Knockin' on Mine" and "World Class Fad" are still first-rate songs, but all the reasons this thing failed in the first place ring out from these second-rate Piedmont speakers. Far too much affectation, far too many calculated attempts at recklessness, and way too many cringeworthy ballads. "Things" works, but "Down Love" ends the marathon by underscoring how chemistry can't be recreated with red wine and session men. You needed those guys, god damn it, and you haven't made a record worthy of your legacy since. Bet you never could have imagined that then, though, what with all that promise hanging out there. Worth a buck? Sure, but still really disappointing.

Bruce Springsteen- Born in the USA- it's hard to get past the man's ass, plastered over both sides of the sleeve, let alone all the cultural baggage of Reagan embracing it, all that weightlifting and that chick from the video. Hell, count the singles: "Dancing in the Dark," "Glory Days," "I'm Going Down," "I'm on Fire," "Born in the USA" and a few more I've probably neglected. But damn if it ain't an enjoyable listen. I sang very loud during many of the songs. Very loud. I mocked myself as I sang, but I still sang. The man's ass aside, it's hard not to sing along. Overproduced. Over everything. I tried, I failed. I sang. I don't care. Eat chicken. Eat me. Fuck.

Linda Ronstadt- Greatest Hits Vol. 2- typing is a struggle, but listening's still a hoot. She was so beautiful and now she's not. Sort of like some folks I know. She doesn't write any songs but her cool friends do, and when she sings them, it's AM radio and dangerous nostalgia waves of street football and down and outs. Buddy Holly and Neil Young fuck the Eagles up the wazzoooo. So pretty. Go Jerry, you dirty little guvner.