Questionable Music PurchasesDiane had a brilliant post on her blog the other day which I am taking as a meme. Going through her CD collection, she found some items that made her ask herself, “WTF?” I thought I’d go through my collection and show you a few of my own questionable music choices.
Zebra. No clue what I was thinking.
I was a big fan of Miami Vice, and therefore, purchased the soundtrack to the show as shown. It’s dated, but it’s undeniable that Michael Mann changed the face of television by scoring it with popular music.
Unfortunately, I took a good thing way too far, which is the only excuse I have to explain my ownership of Philip Michael Thomas’ album, “Living the Book of My Life.”
My worst lapse in judgment to date, yes, it's Jingle Cats. I vaguely recall thinking it would be funny to play it for my cats. God, I must have been lonely and bored.
Acquired during my grunge days when I was buying up everything that came out of Seattle or anyone signed to Sub Pop, Candlebox holds up worse than Pearl Jam, who I was surprised to realize recently aren’t holding up well for me at all. I’m less surprised about Candlebox.
In my own defense, I didn’t actually spend money on any of these. I have a friend who was an intern at a local radio station. He’d just grab whatever promos he could get and leave them at my house. He’s given me a lot of good music, too, but this grouping represents an era best forgotten. (Goo Goo Dolls aren’t too bad, actually… I might exclude them from this mix.) The worst of this pile (yes, “pile”), obviously, is Creed. Someone punch Scott Stapp in the face for me.
I wanted to like this, although considering I don't love Janes Addiction, I'm not sure why I was so enthusiastic. But I really couldn’t get into Dave Navarro’s self-indulgent solo album, Trust No One. It’s completely forgettable.
I’m probably going to take grief for this, but here goes. I’ve come to DESPISE anything Billy Corgan-related. My disdain began when he fouled-up Landslide with his toneless and nasal “vocal.” (Was it truly a vocal? Seriously, it’s more like he vomited out the lyrics. I’ve heard more pleasing sounds come from tracheostomy patients.) Then, the more I saw him posture and listened to him brag about his unparalleled talent and genius, the more intolerable I found him. My intolerance blossomed into white hot hatred. Jack White is what Billy Corgan thinks he is. Corgan is a legend only in his own mind.