
jazz, pop, soul, and funk brilliantly mixed together to transport the listener to a higher dimension
jazz, pop, soul, and funk brilliantly mixed together to transport the listener to a higher dimension
he could lift the bandstand
songs for the new implosion
A faster, grittier version of “Revolution” backed “Hey, Jude”
a malaise, a nothingness
oh no, I’ve said too much
both spoof and inhabit the sounds of Americana
the outsiders took over and everyone wanted in
emotionally stuck
All I wanted to do was grieve for him and celebrate his life.
a generation of getting-crazy-with-the-Cheese-Whiz stoners and slackers
I’d felt like Tom Petty when I wrote the song
Damage! Damage!
a Texas venue literally pulled the plug on their sound system rather than allow her to reach a vocal climax
snotty brattishness
furious and pensive, sloppy and pointed
absolute rush of techno euphoria
He gave me a warm smile and did not shoot me
old fashioned, straightforward emotional honesty
That idea is in a lot of my songs
Gave poignancy to the alcohol related lyrics
OK, you might be asking, but how does the music sound?
the possibility that utopia can be found on the dance floor
from a sardonic social commentary to a personal need for sex
a bewildering but beguiling mix of bizarre samples
a propulsive, rollicking groove that sweeps the listener along like a gospel river
Scary, brilliant, and beautiful
a musical cry for help
“I just went back to the early Beatles”
the #5 best Boy Band song
compared to Eartha Kitt, Nina Simone, and Edith Piaf
a side door that leads into an alluringly destructive abyss
his songs are all shtick
This is what a hero sounds like
it came out just exactly as it is now. It was just there, and it was my first song
a song about slowly losing connection
the vulnerable one
Things are going to be gone
could be an ex-lover or an A&R man
a tale of young love, tinged with sadness
“I hate you so much right now”
completely resigned to romantic failure
a bit of an epic
omnipresent sense of laid-back cool
not what a definitive documentary of Creem magazine should be
a simple statement of insecurity
the pied piper of gloom
three minutes of sparkly, ABBAesque disco
splashed vibrant colors onto punk
a band that never played background music