RIP
Adam Yauch • 1964-2012
Holy crap. MCA was not even that much older than me. Sorry if this sounds callous, but the fact that he died of cancer and not some lame drug overdose makes me feel all the sadder.
Truthfully, I didn't think that the Beastie Boys would even make it past "Licence to Ill" -- YOU GOTTA FIGHT. FOR YOUR RIGHT. TO PAAAR-TAY -- especially after seeing them live. I won tickets to see them at the Rochester War Memorial. This was during my first year of college, which I guess is as good of a time as any to mortify one's self by attending a concert chock-full of frat boys. Opening bands were Murphy's Law -- WILD THING YOU MAKE MY DICK STING, HEY THIS NEXT SONG IS ABOUT BEER B-E-E-R...yeesh, you get the idea -- and Public Enemy, who I didn't appreciate seeing live nearly as much as I should have. I already burnt myself out laughing my ass off listening to "Cooky Puss" about eleventy billion times, so even if they could have played that song live it probably wouldn't have done much for me. The show was pretty unremarkable, save for a triangle of lights being penetrated by a giant stage-phallus.
Yep. That was the Beastie Boys' claim to fame on the "Licence to Ill" tour in 1987. An enormous penis fake-fucking a cluster of stage lighting. I don't think there was a single member of the band older than 21 when I saw 'em.
Anyhoo, a few years pass, I move to Chicago, I finally get a CD player from my friend Mark when he went into the Navy. Trolling the bargain bin at Tower Records -- because back in the d-iz-ay we used to have to go to brick-and-mortar stores to buy our music, whippersnappers -- I come across a copy of "Paul's Boutique".
Eh, what the hell. I figure for $5 it's worth a listen.
Whoa. These dudes actually might be legitimate musicians! And just like that, the fickle finger of my early 20's musical tastes points back to the Beastie Boys.
I could babble on about activism and some of the cool multi-media projects they've done, but dear hubby has the kiddo at soccer and I'm still feeling the Depression that is Not Depression (refer to yesterday's post) so I'd really rather just take a nap while I have the chance.
To Adam's parents, wife, and daughter: tanchumim. To MCA: thanks, and RIP.
Holy crap. MCA was not even that much older than me. Sorry if this sounds callous, but the fact that he died of cancer and not some lame drug overdose makes me feel all the sadder.
Truthfully, I didn't think that the Beastie Boys would even make it past "Licence to Ill" -- YOU GOTTA FIGHT. FOR YOUR RIGHT. TO PAAAR-TAY -- especially after seeing them live. I won tickets to see them at the Rochester War Memorial. This was during my first year of college, which I guess is as good of a time as any to mortify one's self by attending a concert chock-full of frat boys. Opening bands were Murphy's Law -- WILD THING YOU MAKE MY DICK STING, HEY THIS NEXT SONG IS ABOUT BEER B-E-E-R...yeesh, you get the idea -- and Public Enemy, who I didn't appreciate seeing live nearly as much as I should have. I already burnt myself out laughing my ass off listening to "Cooky Puss" about eleventy billion times, so even if they could have played that song live it probably wouldn't have done much for me. The show was pretty unremarkable, save for a triangle of lights being penetrated by a giant stage-phallus.
Yep. That was the Beastie Boys' claim to fame on the "Licence to Ill" tour in 1987. An enormous penis fake-fucking a cluster of stage lighting. I don't think there was a single member of the band older than 21 when I saw 'em.
Anyhoo, a few years pass, I move to Chicago, I finally get a CD player from my friend Mark when he went into the Navy. Trolling the bargain bin at Tower Records -- because back in the d-iz-ay we used to have to go to brick-and-mortar stores to buy our music, whippersnappers -- I come across a copy of "Paul's Boutique".
Eh, what the hell. I figure for $5 it's worth a listen.
Whoa. These dudes actually might be legitimate musicians! And just like that, the fickle finger of my early 20's musical tastes points back to the Beastie Boys.
I could babble on about activism and some of the cool multi-media projects they've done, but dear hubby has the kiddo at soccer and I'm still feeling the Depression that is Not Depression (refer to yesterday's post) so I'd really rather just take a nap while I have the chance.
To Adam's parents, wife, and daughter: tanchumim. To MCA: thanks, and RIP.