Top 19 -- INXS: Kick

We've come to the part of the Top 19 where I no longer talked about these albums on Facebook. Even though they're still in the Top 19  I guess you can consider them honorable mentions or runners up to the Top 10 Facebook list.*

* This preamble seems highly unnecessary but so is this list.

When I was in junior high school, I was a good boy. This is not a brag, more of a declaration of fact. I was a member of the National Junior Honor Society, an altar boy and was so consumed by guilt that the mere thought of doing something bad* gave me a stomach ache. Make no mistake, it wasn't that I did good things due to a high moral calling. It's that I was afraid and embarrassed of being caught doing those bad things. 

* Two stories to illustrate my point. One, when I was in seventh grade, I received my first detention because the assistant principal, Mr. Gormaley, caught me running in the halls. I tried explaining that I was late for class, but he didn't care. He wrote me up. By the time I got home, I was so distraught that when I saw my mom, I started bawling uncontrollably over this transgression. "How will Harvard ever accept me now," I wailed. I'm sure my mom rolled her eyes, but she told me that everything was going to be okay and that getting in trouble was part of growing up. My mom was pretty cool, TBH. 

The second story is that pretty much everyone had gone through some sort of kleptomania phase when they were younger. I never did at the "appropriate time". Like I said, I was insanely afraid of getting caught and having to face my family, so I never took anything that wasn't mine. The one day I stole something was in my freshman year At Merrimack College. Every day I'd buy a copy of the Boston Herald and Boston Globe from the school store. There was an issue of the Hockey News next to the papers and on the cover was a picture of the new Toronto Maple Leafs sweater. It was the same jersey as the year before but on the shoulders was a maple leaf patch. For some reason, I had to have it and I didn't feel like paying the $2.50 for the issue. So I placed the News (which was printed tabloid style, so it looked like a newspaper) between the two Boston rags. I paid $1.00 (50 cents for each paper) and walked out the door. After awhile I threw away the Hockey News, but I still feel a twinge of guilt when I think about it. An issue of the Hockey News seems like a pretty lame thing to steal. 

I needed to set the table for this album because in order to fully get why I love it so much, you have to understand where I was at the time I first heard it. Growing up in the 1980s there were three things that I was sure of: AIDS was everywhere, drugs would definitely kill you* and Satanic Panic was real. 

I recall the first time that I heard INXS, it was a night in late March and I wanted to fall asleep, but the hall light was on. Either I had my radio on or my brother did and I heard "Devil Inside" floating over the airwaves. I had no idea who INXS was or where they were from of what they looked like, but I was convinced that they were devil worshipers. I had an idea in my head that even though they didn't sound like a heavy-metal band, what they were singing about definitely made them one. 

* I also thought that Huey Lewis and the News were "definitely into drugs" due to their song, "I Want a New Drug" which obviously glamorized drugs. Huey Lewis and his News might be one of the squarest bands of the 1980s. I'm sure they did drugs, but this song wasn't the 80s version of "White Rabbit". It was just a song about how being in love made you feel. As you can tell, I was a bit of an idiot. But if you read the Guns N' Roses entry, you knew that. 

Even though they had been around for a number of years, INXS blew up during the spring of 1988. "Kick" was massive and was everywhere. The videos for "Devil Inside", "Never Tear Us Apart", "New Sensation", "Mediate" and "Need You Tonight" were constantly run on MTV. The singles were played all over Top 40 radio. It became very apparent very quickly that INXS weren't devil worshippers like W.A.S.P. (it was an acronym for "We Are Satan's People", dontchaknow. And Blackie Lawless sang about fucking like a beast!) obviously was. They were just a fun pop band from Australia who made great hits and interesting looking videos. 

I know that I didn't get this album in the summer of 1988, mostly because I didn't need to. But I probably got this album for Christmas of that year and I wore it out. It was different than the metal that I was listening to at the time (again, see the Guns N' Roses entry for the trio of awesome albums that I first purchased) but "Kick" still rocked. It rocked in a way that Poison or GNR or Kiss or Def Leppard or White Lion didn't. The songs were catchy as hell and even the singles were great. The band did a cover of "The Loved One" that is so awesome, I listen to it a few times a month now, even 32 years later. I won't even bother listening to the original recording because this is the only version that I need. 

Not only did I unequivocally love this album, but it also brought me back to my eighth grade Spanish trip to Montreal (yeah ... I know. Amesbury Middle School was a strange place). Even though I didn't own this tape, I remember listening to it a lot in the hotel room and on the bus trip up to Quebec. This and "Appetite for Destruction" were the two tapes that were played over and over and over again. 

And while Junior High School was the worst three years of my life, when you are an ignored freshman in a big school, it seemed like a fond time. Listening to "Kick" as a ninth grader reminded me of the one truly fun time that I had during those three years. I guess it was my first taste of nostalgia and I liked it. 

This was the only INXS album that I owned, though I was a big fan of their newer albums. I thought that it was cool when my uncle and aunt bumped into band member Andrew Farris when they were in Hawai'i. I was really bummed out when I heard that Michael Hutchence died. My wife and I even watched their reality show when they were trying to find a replacement for Hutchence. They sorta fell through the cracks when people discuss 80s bands, but they shouldn't. They were excellent and an important part of my musical maturation. 

Divide and Conquer!

Big news in this issue, gang. Big and sorta sad news. Warren Worthington III, better known to comic aficionados, as the Angel has changed his uniform. He’s back to wearing his new classic uniform, though this time it’s red instead of blue.

(I don't know where the halo is in the above costume, it's usually in the middle of his chest, but it's not there. The Angel looks like a bit of an asshole here, doesn't he?)

It’s about damn time Angel looked presentable. He looked like an asshole flying around, chest showing, headband on in his yellow and red Ronald McDonald togs. Seriously, he looked like this:

I for one am glad that we don’t have to look at this monstrosity of a uniform anymore. But, you know what, you guys? I’m actually a little sad too. That ketchup and mustard creation really brought home the spirit of the Champions. The spirit of the 1970s, the Me Decade, where if it felt good, you did it. Extra wide bell bottoms, garish shirts, cocaine addictions, sloppy sex in bathrooms? Whatever man, just keep on truckin’ and we’ll let our kids pick up the pieces.

Let’s give it up one last time for the Baby Boomer generation, they had the fun and passed along the check to us! And oh yeah, now they’re super scared of everything, so they elected a monstrous sentient Cheeto to really bring the whole shithouse down. You fucked up drugs, casual sex, rock and roll, the economy (TWICE!), might as well fuck up the entire government on your way out! Thanks again guys. Great work.

Anyway, Rampage shows up at the Champions headquarters armed with photos of the Titanium Man hauling Black Widow and her former mentor Alexi Bruskin AKA The Commissar* somewhere. This really pisses of Ivan**, who despite almost dying at the hands of Rampage decides to go for round two. He hit him pretty hard. Rampage was popped so hard that Hercules was pumped for Ivan.

(Would you look at how god damn thrilled Hercules is in this pic?) 

* I wish that this story was written in the early 80s, just someone could have said, “Don’t turn around. Uh-oh! Der Kommissar’s in town! Uh-oh!” After the Fire, a nation turns its lonely eyes to you.

** There’s a number of strange things about Ivan: he looks like a French Stan Lee for one thing. But the other thing is that his voice doesn’t match his personality. What I mean by this is that Ivan is Russian as the Kremlin, but he’s written in such a thick American East coast way. Like he lived all his life in Brooklyn. He uses idioms like “pal” and “dough” and “ain’t”, I’m surprised he hasn’t yelled, “It’s clobberin’ time” yet. And that’s fine, Russians—all foreigners—assimilate into the US and use the day’s slang. But not in comics, especially not in comics from 1976. Ivan is Russian, so he would speak in a bastardized version of the mother tongue, like the X-men’s Colossus. Lots of “da’s” and “nyet’s” and his syntax isn’t peppered with slang. The lack of racism (probably not the right word, but you get what I mean) in Ivan’s speech is kind of off putting.

Ramapage decides that he’s had about enough of this bullshit and hits his self-destruct button, which is a gigantic red dot on the middle of his yellow uniform. He’s been hit in the chest a bunch of times, but he’s never exploded. I’m not sure why this time is any different. But it is! And he blows up. But it appears that Griffin and Darkstar had something to do with this, so Rampage isn’t totally crazy.

The Champions kick Rampage when he’s down (vocally) and Ivan tries to get him to spill the beans about the Black Widow, but Rampage dies. Sort of. Not really because the Ghost Rider yells at Angel for being a rich prick (“You don’t know what it’s like to be broke – what it can do to you!”) and then takes their fallen foe to the hospital.

After GR bolts, Champions PR man (I think they called him the team’s financial manager two issues ago, but whatever they’re the same job, right?) Richard Fenster is all like, hey we have a big launching thing to do in a few hours, what are we going to do? Angel says, “Now might not be the time to do that, Dick (no offense meant, that’s his name!)” and Ivan loses it. He thinks that Angel wants to break up the Champions instead of look for Natasha.

Which, to be fair, sounds like an Angel thing to say but Ivan leaves to find his “tsarina” on his own. Hercules grabs a file cabinet and Ice Man grabs a broom to tidy up, while WW III bitches about his ripped costume. The rich are different than us, indeed. Anyway, Hercules tells everyone not to worry, the team launch is going to be awesome “especially if there are ladies in the audience” because the Prince of Power is going to be there too.

I fucking love Hercules.

Cut to: the villains in their liar who have just spilled their plans to Natasha. Griffin wants to kill everyone, especially the Angel (can’t say that I don’t blame him). Titanium Man tells him to chill out when another Russian super villain makes his entrance by blasting TM. It’s the Crimson Dynamo and he’s the son of Ivan Petrovich. YES! The same Ivan who speaks like he’s from the Boogie Down and who just cold-cocked Rampage. It’s just like Huey Lewis says, it’s a small world after all.

While this is going on, Ivan (yup, Crimson Dynamo’s dad!) has figured out where Black Widow is by reverse engineering the black pearl that they got last issue (don’t ask) and Ice Man is tagging along. Remember what we talked about a few entries back about how weird it is that everyone keeps calling Angel and Ice Man “kids” or “youths” or “young ones”? Bobby Drake has finally had it up to his icicles and told Ivan to knock it off.

Ghost Rider drops Rampage off at the hospital and now he’s talking like a demon again and NOT like Gene Autry. There’s a lot of inconsistencies in voice in this issue, which is a bit distracting.

The Angel gets his new uniform and it looks pretty good, though he says that it reminds him of when he was with the X-Men. Awwww. At least Dick is in a tuxedo. Hercules is just chilling in a skirt and sash.

I’m not sure whether the comics had anything to do about this or whether I was just used to red being their primary color and blue being an accent, but in the mid to late 1990s the Angels baseball team were purchased by Disney (who also own Marvel) changed their name from the California Angels to the Anaheim Angels. When they changed their name, they changed their uniforms. They were pretty damn ugly, but their main color scheme went from red with dark blue accents to periwinkle with red accents. It looked like shit and a few years later, they went back to a uniform that was more red.

 

(Above is Chuck Finley and the upper image is how I remember the Angels looking the most. The second image is sorta like a two or three season look, which I liked but it's not the "traditional" Angels uni.)

(This is Mo Vauhgn in that shitty Anaheim Angels look. Man, I loved Mo Vaughn and was pretty bummed when he went to California. He was a horrible free agent acquisition by them.)

(This is Mike Trout in their most current uniforms. They won a World Series in 2002, so I doubt that they'll change these togs any time soon. But, that was 15 years ago. It doesn't seem that far away. I remember being on a plane to a conference to Vegas when the pilot told everyone that the Angels won the World Series.)

Those periwinkle uniforms sucked (those aren’t even real vests, those are just blue sleeved jersey) and the Angels teams weren’t very good either but I could never get past the blue uniforms. They didn’t look like the Angels. And WWIII doesn’t look like the Angel in his blue togs either, he just looks like the Angel clad in red. Which is kind of weird because if you think of the color red, you think of fire. Angels aren’t in fire, that’s where the devil and his demon horde hang out. Angels live in the sky, so they should be more in tune with the color blue.

Yet for both the baseball team and the comic book character, I think that they look best in red. Weird.

Anyhow, Angel and Hercules go out and meet the people of Los Angeles. California Governor Jerry Brown is pissed that only two of the heroes are there, “I understood that there were five of them!” and things are going pretty well. Until Titanium Man, Crimson Dynamo and the Griffin show up. This is a nice cliffhanger because shit’s going to hit the fans next issue, kids.  

All-in-all, not a bad issue. It kept me interested and laughing. Can’t ask for more than that. The cover was sort of a dud, but the color scheme was cool. I also like that they showed Rampage blowing up and sending Champions everywhere. Update: the vest rating system will stay despite Angel's new uni. Three vested Angels out of five.

  

Songs no New Englander Should Ever Karaoke

(I have no idea who is pictured above, I ran a Google image search for "New England Karaoke" and that's what popped up.)

As a rule, I don’t do karaoke. For one thing, it’s not the late 90s and the other is I can’t sing at all. Well, that’s not absolute true, I’ve done karaoke twice and each time I’ve been pretty hammered*. Once me and a couple of my buddies did the Doors “Alabama Song” at a newspaper Christmas party—and how a tune from a 1920s German opera didn’t get the crowd rocking, I’ll never know.

The other time was at a bachelor party—yes, this was probably the inspiration for both Hangover movies, I’m still working on suing the writers of the movie. While at a Cape Cod bar, a friend (the groom) put a bunch of our names in a hat and when the Karaoke DJ chose us, each one of us ambled on stage to sing our song. For the record I did Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” and two things: it wasn’t that bad of an experience—I can see why Huey Lewis and Gwenyth Paltrow wasted a lot of money and did a movie** about this phenomenon. And two, I wasn’t half bad either, or at least that’s how I remember it.

* It’s amazing that I’m as old as I am and I still use the excuse “I’ve was pretty hammered”. I guess some things never change.

** I happened to catch this movie one lazy Sunday, why didn’t Huey Lewis sing “I Want A New Drug” or “Heart of Rock N Roll” or one of his jazzy tunes? Did the director think that the audience would be shocked out of the fantasy that the movie portrayed? Fuck that, half the time I was watching this flick I was wondering where Lewis had been for the last 20 years, why he chose this movie to mount a comeback and tried to figure out if he actually could be Paltrow’s father.

Anyhow, I was thinking about these experiences the other day and it occurred to me that there are certain songs that New Englanders should never perform under any circumstances. Let’s list them, shall we?

Heartbreaker by Led Zeppelin. Double whammy. Heart become “haht” and breaker becomes “breakah”. If Zeppelin had been made up of New Englanders, they’d have to steal a different blues song, wouldn’t they?

Hard Days Night by the Beatles. Ever hear someone from New England say the word “hard”? It’s the reason why there aren’t many famous Boston porn stars.

Hard Times by Run DMC, Achy Breaky Heart by Bill Ray Cyrus, Hard Charger by Jane’s Addiction, Heartbreak Hotel by Elvis Presley, Hard to Handle by the Black Crowes, Heart of Glass by Blondie, Kickstart My Heart by Motley Crue, Harden My Heart by QuarterFlash ... pretty much any song that has one of these two words in it.

Warm It Up by Kriss Kross. Not just for the pronunciation of the word “warm” in the title. But everyone knows that New England is where the East Coast Family was born. Back in the day, Kriss Kross messed with Another Bad Creation and got Bell Biv DeVoe, BoyzIIMen and the whole East Coast. Some feuds will never die no matter how many years go by. True fact: in some areas of Vermont, it is still legal to shoot someone when they are wearing their clothes backwards.

Piano Man by Billy Joel. Try a little originality on stage, my friend. Everyone sings Piano Man.

(You Got It) The Right Stuff by New Kids on the Block. This is true only in Roxbury.

Mr. Telephone Man by New Edition. This is true only in Dorchester.

Poker Face by Lady Gaga. Another mispronunciation miscue, however with dastardly results. You start singing polka face and the next thing you know, some asshole busts out his accordion. And unless that asshole is Weird Al, you’re in for a lot of trouble.

New York, New York by Frank Sinatra. You do remember what state you’re in, right?

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. Simply for the chorus alone. Also, don’t touch Living on a Prayer, either. That’s my song.

All Night Long, Hello, Dancing on the Ceiling by Lionel Richie. Lionel Richie? Fuck that guy.

Macarena by those two Spanish dudes whose names I’ve forgotten and are too lazy to Google. A New England accent in Spanish? No gracias.

There you go. Next time you find yourself in 1998 and stuck in a Massachusetts karaoke bar; remember these tips and you’ll leave the place with your life, a song in your heart and a lady on each arm.