Rare, yet still well-done.

The system is down.

Sometimes that album just comes along. That one album that if it only got a chance to be heard it could rule Billboard, blow up SoundScan, change the stale lives of the mass populus, the drones riding the N and R trains everyday to shallow jobs, in need of something, anything to drown out the ramblings of the demented, 38 year old could-be pedofile sitting next to you, or the thugged out Roc-a-Wear clad dude too smoked out to realize that he's spilling his coffee on your shoes.

Finally there is something made perfectly for you to, in the words of Timothy Leary, "Turn on, Tune in, and Drop out."

Unforutunately, I have the only copy.

Kazaa!
When my brother was home last month from Los Angeles he left me a CD that he burned from tracks that he had downloaded from Kazaa. Despite almost certain lawsuit from those greedy bastards at your favorite corporate record labels, he braved the wild with almost secure anomity to place together 78 minutes of the finest music ever recorded. Some tracks I knew, some I didn't, and some were just plain goofy.

"Fuck the Naysayers... We'll Dance on their Graves," compiled by Kris Allen Johnson starts off with what may be the greatest song ever recorded... the entrance music that plays whenver 3 time WWE champion and two time New York Times Bestselling author Mick Foley comes down to the ring. If ever there was a modern day Reniassance man, it is Mick Foley. There has not been an author since Hemmingway who was so willing to put his own body directly in harm's way, risking life, limb and ear to gather the necessary data to compile volumes of work that has stood the enoromous test of time in the 4 and a half years since they were released. When I start the day with this CD and the first thing that I hear is a reminder of man who is willing to set himself on fire, thrust himself on a ring full of exposed tacks, be put inside of a dumpster and have it rolled off a stage, and, most importantly, tossed off of the top, head first, of a 20 feet steel structure and through an annouce table, I realize that my life is just not that exciting. There is something about the tones of that song that bring out the urge in me to cut off my own ear and shove a sock down somebody's throat. Mick, I love you, man. You will always be my hero.

After that, the CD segways into this weird intro on the next track. I almost always think about skipping over it, because I think it's going to be some crap by Perfect Circle or one of those douchebag Tool side project bands that I hate, but then it comes in. Mighty Mighty Bosstones. I don't need to tell you folks, I'm from Boston. And I love it. If I had a vagina, I am absolutely certain that it would be moist at the sight of the Citgo sign, I'll tell you that much. Even more appropriately, this particular Bosstones track keeps the raging intensity of the first song, for it's about how much work sucks. If I may quote: "Not time to stop and assess/Can't let it grind to a hault/Can't stop and look at the mess/And then find out it's my fault/I can't stop for a single minute/I know Hell when I'm living in it." With lines like, "My job is a nightmare and every day from 9 to 5 I'm there," you can be assured that this isn't your Human Resource lady's rock and roll. Good thing that she can't buy this CD either.

Damn, the man!
After that we're treated to a live cover verion of "Keep on Rocking in a Free World" by Pearl Jam. Another song that damns the man. God I hate the man.

Next is "Carbonna Not Glue" by the Ramones, a song that was forcefully removed from the Ramones' "Leave Home" album by the assholes at Carbonna who did not want their product to be advertised as a good stand in when you're out of glue to sniff. This song is over before you know it and is quickly followed up by a Paul Simon track when he talks about smoking a j. Blaze up, Paul. I'm with you.

After that, you might ask? How about another live cover, this time in the form of Jane's Addiction doing a little track called "Sympathy for the Devil." "Woo-Who" is right.

... Keeps going and going and going...
I usually sort of doze off by the time the seventh track roles around, so I don't really remember what that is, but I'm sure it's cool. Sorry, my ADD sort of takes over sometimes and I start thinking about what brand of toothpaste best suits my personal image or I'm fanitcizing about the cute girl at Starbucks who somehow consistantly withstands the lure of my witty, caffiene addled remarks and dripping pheramones that I wear like Coolwater cologne.

Actually the next few tracks are sort of a blur. I think there is some Marilyn Manson in there and I'm pretty sure there is some Quiet Riot. Quiet Riot is the type of band that Kazaa was designed for. Who the fuck wants to be seen buying a Quiet Riot CD in person?

Then there is that Elvis techno song that was big a few years ago. I don't really remember the words, but if you give me a call I can hum it for you.

Newmoanyeah does not promote drug use, but...
Then some Jefferson Airplane. Speaking of which, if anyone of you know where I can find any decent acid, e-mail me. It'll be between us.

I feel like I've already said too much. If one of you somehow stumbles upon this wonderful piece of pop culture history, I want their to be some surprises. But, just as a teaser, if you guys like British brothers who like to get drunk and punch each other in the head, you won't be let down.

Make sure you stick through the end though, for a special message from our buddy, Strong Bad. "The system is down, they system is down... ."

Check back next week when I review my mom's homemade macoroni and cheese and the treehouse that my dad built for me when I was 9.

Peace, Love, and Grease,
DJ Timid