About 15 years ago I visited London for two weeks. I stayed with a couple in Islington who were friends of friends. They had the top floor, a renter in the main floor front room and I had the next room by him. They introduced me to him and he was a complete dick, no response, made a face.
They both left for work really early except Saturdays and the renter started each and every day of those 14days with that Wonderwall song on repeat at FULL BLAST til he was ready to leave the house- so between two and five plays every day before 9am. By the fourth or fifth day I was trying to figure out ways to mess with him, including going into his room and taking the CD or cutting the cord. I didn't have the guts. And in retrospect, I may have wanted to smash his radio, but that song might have been the very thing that prevented him from smashing someone's face each day he spent out in the world.
Ha!
Around that same time period It was not uncommon to go into a local pub that was still rocking a jukebox and hear nothing but the same three Oasis and Red Hot Chilli Pepper songs over and over for hours on end. I still feel a primal urge to hurt something at the first chords of Scar Tissue or Don't Look Back In Anger.
Troubled relationships are the worst. We lived in a flat many moons ago where a newly married couple next door were quickly moving towards a newly divorced couple. Every single day for a month the guy would leave the flat, slamming the door and stomping down the stairs. Within minutes the sounds of Gabrielle's Rise would start creeping through our walls.
Mind you, it could have been worse, apparently my mum and dad went through 6 months of second hand Carpenters before I was born thanks to trouble in the next house.
About 15 years ago I visited London for two weeks. I stayed with a couple in Islington who were friends of friends. They had the top floor, a renter in the main floor front room and I had the next room by him. They introduced me to him and he was a complete dick, no response, made a face.
They both left for work really early except Saturdays and the renter started each and every day of those 14days with that Wonderwall song on repeat at FULL BLAST til he was ready to leave the house- so between two and five plays every day before 9am. By the fourth or fifth day I was trying to figure out ways to mess with him, including going into his room and taking the CD or cutting the cord. I didn't have the guts. And in retrospect, I may have wanted to smash his radio, but that song might have been the very thing that prevented him from smashing someone's face each day he spent out in the world.
Ha!
Around that same time period It was not uncommon to go into a local pub that was still rocking a jukebox and hear nothing but the same three Oasis and Red Hot Chilli Pepper songs over and over for hours on end. I still feel a primal urge to hurt something at the first chords of Scar Tissue or Don't Look Back In Anger.
Troubled relationships are the worst. We lived in a flat many moons ago where a newly married couple next door were quickly moving towards a newly divorced couple. Every single day for a month the guy would leave the flat, slamming the door and stomping down the stairs. Within minutes the sounds of Gabrielle's Rise would start creeping through our walls.
Mind you, it could have been worse, apparently my mum and dad went through 6 months of second hand Carpenters before I was born thanks to trouble in the next house.
F*ckers next to us in Manchester used to put Whale Song stuff on full tilt at like 3-4 AM. No exaggeration. They were art-school types and had told us they came from money and were just there for a jolly. Like Winston the Weed Man from Lock, Stock.
If you could summon them to the door, they usually were amicable enough and turned it off.
We used to put our dead mice through their letterbox.
He wears long robes. White robes, tan robes, brown robes.
You should pour gasoline on him and set him on fire. Then when he got all heated about it, you could be all "YOU DRESS LIKE THAT GUY FROM THAT VIETNAM PHOTO SO I THOUGHT THAT WAS WHAT YOU WANTED! EXCUSE ME FOR TRYING TO HELP!" And then walk away in a huff.
The Eagles will always get props from me based on nostalgia (growing up in the 70s / early 80s)
I agree that Henly and Frye are pompous cheese balls, BUT, Timothy B. Schmidt aside, the Eagles had an incredibly talented supporting cast.
Bernie Leadon, the country rock god.... Don Felder.... probably one of the most underrated guitar players of all time... and Randy Meisner who kills it on "Take it to the Limit" and "Try and Love Again".
I too caught the Eagles doc on Showtime and think it's great. The Cali coke bands of the 70s are really intriguing to me.
I had a next door roommate who blasted Ozzy's No More Tears on repeat (song, not album) every weekend morning. It actually didn't bother me that much, he could have chosen a much worse song. I heard after he was gone that he had a major drug problem, so now I picture him bugging out to those whale sounds during the bridge.
I had a boss who would alternate pretty much entire days between that song and Kiss's "God Gave Rock and Roll." If that had been anything more than a summer job, it could've ended in a stabbing.
I feel lucky I only know four or five Eagles songs. Not interested in finding out whether I can ryde for their full catalog. Those five songs could probably not be nullified.
Comments
Ha!
Around that same time period It was not uncommon to go into a local pub that was still rocking a jukebox and hear nothing but the same three Oasis and Red Hot Chilli Pepper songs over and over for hours on end. I still feel a primal urge to hurt something at the first chords of Scar Tissue or Don't Look Back In Anger.
Troubled relationships are the worst. We lived in a flat many moons ago where a newly married couple next door were quickly moving towards a newly divorced couple. Every single day for a month the guy would leave the flat, slamming the door and stomping down the stairs. Within minutes the sounds of Gabrielle's Rise would start creeping through our walls.
Mind you, it could have been worse, apparently my mum and dad went through 6 months of second hand Carpenters before I was born thanks to trouble in the next house.
F*ckers next to us in Manchester used to put Whale Song stuff on full tilt at like 3-4 AM. No exaggeration. They were art-school types and had told us they came from money and were just there for a jolly. Like Winston the Weed Man from Lock, Stock.
If you could summon them to the door, they usually were amicable enough and turned it off.
We used to put our dead mice through their letterbox.
You should pour gasoline on him and set him on fire. Then when he got all heated about it, you could be all "YOU DRESS LIKE THAT GUY FROM THAT VIETNAM PHOTO SO I THOUGHT THAT WAS WHAT YOU WANTED! EXCUSE ME FOR TRYING TO HELP!" And then walk away in a huff.
I agree that Henly and Frye are pompous cheese balls, BUT, Timothy B. Schmidt aside, the Eagles had an incredibly talented supporting cast.
Bernie Leadon, the country rock god.... Don Felder.... probably one of the most underrated guitar players of all time... and Randy Meisner who kills it on "Take it to the Limit" and "Try and Love Again".
I too caught the Eagles doc on Showtime and think it's great. The Cali coke bands of the 70s are really intriguing to me.
I think I'd stab myself if I lived with her.
I had a boss who would alternate pretty much entire days between that song and Kiss's "God Gave Rock and Roll." If that had been anything more than a summer job, it could've ended in a stabbing.
Would stab.
There is a lot worse music released now days than the Eagles.
My pregnant girlfriend threatened her and it stopped..not soon enough.