Hair Metal At Eleven by Tim F| February 25, 201011:00 pm| 27 CommentsThis post is in: MusicFacebookTweetEmailEvery cowboy sings a sad, sad song.
Brett Michaels wrote this song in a laundromat after he found out his stripper girlfriend had been cheating on him.
When I heard that story, I knew god was in his heaven, and all was right with the world.
Hey, it’s Olympics time. You think this is unrelated to your post? It is not. Swedish Power Metal bands love curling. Well, at least one.
Oh, but they suck at it.
kommrade reproductive vigor
This song is not metal. This song isn’t even hair metal. This song is 100% high fructose corn syrup and a deadly hazard to anyone diabetics in the vicinity. A pox on you for digging it out of the back-vaults of the internons.
Poison? Whatever… Poison, on the other hand? Awesome.
Bah. Last night I go to bed early, and John posts Zappa. Tonight I’m up and get…….this.
God hates me.
@kommrade reproductive vigor: Quite right, the “metal” part of hair metal is and always has been an unfortunate misnomer.
Anyone else having bizarre WP issues tonight? Or is the FSM displeased with me as well?
Poison? Good lord, what next?
Barry Manilow? Air Supply? Celine Dion?
Here’s some old Outkast to flush the Poison from everyone’s system.
Hard to believe that was released before invading Iraq, or even 9/11.
Appreciated, but everyone knows the only real Poison antitode is “Beavis and Butt-head”:
This song is the ultimate karaoke fallback. Anyone can sing it, and everyone loves it.
The BBC just had someone from American Thinker on to talk about the health care shindig. WTF?
I, for one, most assuredly do not.
that’s a goddamn crime.
Were you in junior high when this song came out and danced to it with a girl at the school mixer? If no on all counts, then I understand. But that was me and many others.
I wonder what Winger is doing these days.
@Will: Ha. The number of karaoke crash and burns I have seen on this song alone I could write a volume about. It’s not hard to do at all (and I freely confess I’m a karaoke ringer) but even then it can be sung very very badly.
@Will: I hate this song. Hate hate hate hate hate this song. Hate it. Hate every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hate the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hate the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it.
In ’88? No I was 23, and into The Replacements, Sonic Youth, Husker Du, Prince, Jane Siberry, Rickie Lee Jones, New Order, REM, Let’s Active, NWA, The Geto Boys, The Pixies, etc.
But when I was in junior high, the big slow dance songs were Freebird, Stairway to Heaven, and Come Sail Away.
And I hated every one of those fucking songs too, still do. So I’m guessing I’d feel the same way about Poison even if I’d been in junior high at the time.
Anyway, I’m just a long time pseudo-hipster douchebag asshole, gone slightly overweight and slightly bald – like Prufrock. Nothing personal.
@JGabriel: Let’s Active? Damn, the puppy video would play really well here, no?
@MikeJ: Wow. Great song, but that video is terrible – although strangely likable. It must be the puppy. And the totally amateur quality. And the cliched 80’s clothes and hairdos. Surprisingly good sound, though.
Or maybe that’s not so surprising, given Mitch Easter’s production chops.
@Yutsano: Yes! Tons of weird stuff tonight. So it’s not just you.
@Yutsano: FYWP locked me out earlier today, and even after that I had to log back in — twice. Perhaps there was an “upgrade”, or maybe it just hates us for making it work harder.
I prefer to think that it hates us for being beautiful.
Seriously Tim, this was totally not called for. Someone could get hurt. </snark>
Sweet, I get to use some of the useless trivia that makes up most of what I teach.
Botanically speaking, roses do not have thorns. Thorns are modified stems. Spines, like on cacti, are modified leaves. So what do roses have? Prickles. Prickles are epidermal extensions (the equivalent of a sharp bump growing out of your skin). One of my favorite times each year is the groan I get out of my students when I serenade them with, “every rose has its prickle”.