You know those mornings where you wake up and the sun is shining, the birds are singing, everyone walks with a spring in their step and a smile, and you would STILL punch a girl scout in the throat if she tried to sell you some cookies?

Some days you can’t help it, no matter what the day is shaping up like, you are in a bad mood. You just want to scream at everyone, be belligerent to people, and call them idiots if they don’t agree with every little thing you say. If you are not Bill O’Reilly, who makes a living out of being a complete and utter jack ass this is generally considered unacceptable behavior. So what can you do?

Well for me, there are certain songs that put me in a good mood almost instantly. They are songs that defy grumpiness, that create a small bubble of irresistible cheer. Granted, what you would choose to put on this list might be vastly different than mine. For instance, you may have noticed, with some derision, that there is almost nothing on my list after 1984. That’s because I’m an old fart who is only a couple of years away from yelling at kids to get off his lawn. I should have growth charts on the wall to measure my pants creeping up. But that is another blog. Here then, is my list of songs that provide me with instant good modification. Feel free to add yours in the comment section.

Call me Al by Paul Simon.

Maybe it’s the jaunty bass line, maybe it’s the peppy horns, or maybe because the video may actually be the last time on record that Chevy Chase was funny. But whatever the reason, this one always gets a quick volume boost from me whenever it comes on the radio

Stepping Out by Joe Jackson

“You can dress in pink and blue just like a child
And in a yellow taxi turn to me and smile
We’ll be there in just a while if you follow me”

How much fun does THAT sound like?

Spirit of Radio by Rush

“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive…”

As a Canadian nerd it is my sacred and sworn duty to be a die hard Rush junkie. That bursting guitar riff, with epic drum fills always makes me want to stand up and cheer, even if the song turned out to be painfully prophetic about which direction the music industry was going. AI picked this version because Neil Peart’s rat tail amuses me. Also because I had this concert on Beta, and I watched it constantly. Good times.

Second hand news by Fleetwood Mac

There was a time when almost every guy wanted to lay Stevie Nicks down in the tall grass and let them do their stuff. This is the first track off of the legendary Rumors album, which was written at the peak of their discontent with each other, but yielded some great tracks.

Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel

Written shortly after his departure from Genesis, Peter Gabriel taps into the uncertainty, but also the exhilaration of being on his own for the first time, and stretching his creative wings.

Superstition

If you can listen to this song without moving some part of your body along with it, you have no soul, and should probably consult your nearest convenient non denominational spiritual advisor.

Revolution

The.

Beatles.

Kicking Ass.

And

Taking

Names.

Love it.

Won’t Get Fooled Again by The Who

Before it become forever associated with David Caruso, (Urgh, by the way. Just urgh.) this song was the quintessential rock anthem. The video below is from the movie “The Kids are Alright,” and it may well be everything I love about rock and roll in a nutshell.

ABC by The Jackson Five

I swear to you, this, on loudspeaker in all the world’s trouble spots would bring about world peace in about ½ an hour.

Honarable Mentions and exceptions to the post 1980 rule….

Knights of Cydonia by Muse

NO ONES GONNA TAKE MEEEE AAAALIVE!!!!!

My wife threw me a surprise 40th birthday party that involved me having to rescue her from the zombies she allegedly created in her copious spare time, all of which were conveniently located at a paintball course that was just outside of town. This was blasting on the car stereo as we arrived to suit up and kick some Zombie ass.

Teddy Picker by The Arctic Monkeys

Who’d want to men of the people, when there’s people like you?

Amen brother. Amen.

I love me some Peter Gabriel. I really do. So imagine my delight when I found out there was a free stream of his latest recording “Scratch My Back” available online. He covers some of his favourite artists, like David Bowie, Radiohead, Paul Simon, Arcade Fire and Neil Young. In turn, all those artists will do an album of Peter Gabriel covers called “I’ll Scratch Yours.”

That’s a pretty cool idea, I think. Gabriel doing Bowie, Bowie doing Gabriel? Sign me up.

But here’s the thing. Every song is slowed down to funereal pace, with synth and strings and mournful keening. Which in a weird way, kind of works for his cover of Heroes, but for the WHOLE ALBUM? Good God. It’s only to be listened to when in the manic phase of ones mental illness. Even Peter himself is bored of it…look at that picture, he is so comatose he has to manually push his eyebrow up to register some kind of facial expression.

It would be like “So” with every track at the same pace as “Red Rain” without “Sledgehammer” and “Big Time” to brighten the mood a little. Which would then make the album title “So What?” more apropos.

But don’t take my word for it, click right here and take a listen for yourself. Who knows, you might find it haunting and achingly beautiful. Or you might start the long arduous task of rubbing your wrists on the blunt edge of your desk in an effort to slice them open in 5-6 hours.

That said if he tours again I will totally go see him. That’s how awesome he is.

The Correctness has been lax in it’s duty to our readers lately. We’ve been ignoring your need for some serious literary discussion and parsing of ludicrous pop songs. In order to alleviate this, we present an in-depth look at a song by a woman with a dollar sign in her name.

Wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy

A bold beginning, bringing the listener straight into the action, with little or no preparation. Our subject is awake, and having an emotional reaction. However, we’re uncertain what that reaction is, as, in order to understand the simile, we’re forced to have a general understanding of how P Diddy feels, or alternately, what aspect of P Diddy the subject is meant to be emulating. Curious, a riddle presented in the opening. Perhaps this will evolve through the narrative to be important.

Grab my glasses, I’m out the door, I’m gonna hit this city

The subject continues to prepare for the day, now leaving her (we’ll assume this is a female, based on the singer). She is preparing to take on her world, to get involved, be active. She is, however, bringing her glasses, perhaps to hide some aspect of herself from the world. Curious. What is she trying to hide, one wonders.

Before I leave, brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack

But wait, she hasn’t left yet, or perhaps she’s returned inside. She needs alcohol, a fix of some kind before she can continue. Again, this seems to point to some challenge or uncertainty she has to struggle with. Why does she need to alter her state in order to continue her day?

‘Cause when I leave for the night, I ain’t coming back

Confusion. We know that it is morning, and yet she uses the phrase “leave for the night”. Certainly “leave for the day” would make more sense, and position the reader for the likely fact that she will not be returning again for some time. There is a possibility that the “home” doesn’t even belong to our subject, that she is perhaps leaving from the previous night. This could be the end of a one night stand?

I’m talking pedicure on our toes, toes

Our subject is now with others, referencing “our toes”. She has joined with what we can assume are friends, taking time to make her feet presentable.

Trying on all our clothes, clothes

The preparation for (what we can assume is) an evening out continues, with the subject attempting to present an aspect of herself to the world. We’re seeing a theme of changing, hiding, making presentable.

Boys blowing up our phones, phones

We can assume that “blowing up our phones” means that the boys are calling constantly, as opposed to their being involved in actively exploding those phones. This creates the idea that the subject and friends are popular, and in demand from men.

Drop-topping, playing our favorite CDs

The subject’s group is moving toward their destination, enjoying music. Perhaps they are listening to P Diddy?

Pulling up to the parties
Trying to get a little bit tipsy

We’ll deal with these lines together. The group arrives a number of parties, with the goal of consuming more alcohol. We start to see a thread of impermanence, of moving from one event to the next, of searching for something. Combined with the recurrence of drinking, this leads us to assume there is something the subject is avoiding, or escaping from, though it is still not certain what that is.

CHORUS:
Don’t stop, make it pop
DJ, blow my speakers up
Tonight, I’mma fight
‘Til we see the sunlight
Tick tock on the clock
But the party don’t stop, no

The Chorus is quite simply a plea from the subject to Time itself. The struggle, the weight of the subject’s pysche is so great that she simply needs to avoid it at all costs. She wishes for the night to continue forever. She wants to “fight”, to prevent responsibility, and to not have to face herself. But time will not be stopped, and the clock continues to “tick tock”, and draw her inevitably towards her showdown with her inner self.

Ain’t got a care in world, but got plenty of beer

We can only assume that the subject is being ironic about not having a care in the world, since she clearly is escaping from her troubles, and immediately consuming beer to further avoid them.

Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here

Perhaps this is a clue to our subject’s strife? She has no money, perhaps a struggle with finance or lack of work? Has her morning drinking cost her her job? No matter, she is “already here”, whatever the case is, her fate is set, she is resigned to it.

And now, the dudes are lining up cause they hear we got swagger
But we kick em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger

The word is out that subject and her group are at the club, and they are all interested, as there is word that this group is a potent one, full of interest and power. However, they will soon find that they are unwanted, unless they have a specific look:

This is troubling, the impression we’ve been given is that this group is interested in the “party life”, and youth, beauty, eternal evenings. But the idea that they are only interested in this specific look creates a bit of a paradox.

I’m talking about everybody getting crunk, crunk

The subject is describing the way in which the club is “getting crunk”, meaning they are reacting to a style of music, or possibly this could mean that they are, in fact, getting cranky? Which in light of the company they prefer, would make sense, as the men they are interested in are quite old.

Boys tryin’ to touch my junk, junk

Now this is where things really get tricky. The Urban Dictionary defines “junk” as “Male genitalia”. Up until this point, we’ve assumed that the narrator was a woman, though a review will show that the only reason we might have to think this is that because the song is sung by a woman. This forces us to review all that we think we know. Is it possible that we’ve been misled?

Is the subject is in possession of male genitalia? That “she” is, in fact, a “he”? Are we dealing with a homosexual subject? Perhaps some kind of transgendered person or hermaphrodite?

This seems a strong likelyhood, and is supported by a number of the lines above. The subject is clearly running from and avoiding something. One suspects it is “her” own sexual identity. Perhaps “he” is a self-loathing homosexual, who is unable to come to terms with himself and thus hides through drinking and pedicures following nights spent with strangers.

Gonna smack him if he getting too drunk, drunk

We’re unclear as to whom the “him” refers, likely one of the other men in the club, but the subject reveals a concern about the other person becoming too drunk. This would likely cause the individual to be unable to perform sexually, or perhaps just exhibit unwanted, perhaps un-Diddylike behavior

Now, now, we go until they kick us out, out
Or the police shut us down, down

An indication that the subject needs for this distraction to continue forever, that ending the party will be unbearable. A possible alternate reading would be that the subject is referring to the Gay rights struggle, that the “fight” will go on until the police are forced to act.

Police shut us down, down
Po-po shut us

This concept is repeated, strengthening the resolve for the fight, and the likelihood that there can be no end except this. The line devolves into an almost T.S. Eliot-like drone.

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me

The subject is reaching the crux of “her” fight with her psyche. She now realizes that she cannot hide, that she can no longer run from what she is, whom she has become. The DJ, the situation has brought her to realize that her fleeing has become her strength, the rock which she can anchor her soul to. But it also becomes the crucible in which she is taken apart, all of her faults on display. The fight is over, she can no longer hide her true self. She finally gives in, and accepts what she is.

With my hands up
You got me now
You got that sound
Yeah, you got me

The acceptance is growing, she has conceded to her struggle, given in completely. The voice of reason within her has spoken, and she complies.

DJ, you build me up
You break me down
My heart, it pounds
Yeah, you got me

With my hands up
Put your hands up
Put your hands up

The subject transitions into full acceptance, though fearful, she is now ready to not only accept who she/he is, but also encourages the listener to do the same, to give in to their/our own inner struggle, and to “put your hands up”.

As our journey through the struggles of the subject continues, it becomes more and more clear that “Tik Tok” is a song of change. It takes us on a journey from scared, hidden self-loathing, hatred for the true self, to a full acceptance of an alternative lifestyle. It is a glorious appeal for everyone to stop hating their inner selves, and to face that reality head on, and allow it to flourish.

The brilliance within is that such a clear message of such a delicate nature is hidden within a fairly crappy pop song. That juxtaposition is the crowning glory of this song. That what seems to be utterly devoid of importance or worth hides within it a beautiful moment self-revelation.

Allow me to share with you some revelations I’ve had about Norm MacDonald and Neil Young.

Both of these gentlemen are Canadian entertainers who have a rabid fan base, neither of whom I have enjoyed in the past.

In fact I would say that I actively disliked them. In the case of Norm MacDonald I particularly detested his stammering delivery of non jokes that he tries to get you to laugh at by blinking you into submission. I seemed to be the only comedian in the world who was happy he got shit canned from SNL. All of my friends love this guy and his appeal was lost on me completely.

“Germans love David Hasslehoff do they, Norm? Huh. Fascinating. You know what else is fascinating? Writing jokes. Try it Norm.”

In fact my dislike of Norm was so intense, I actually SAW him in a Sports memorabilia store in LA, and I didn’t even go over and say hello or ask for an autograph.

And look at Neil Young. Take a good look at this picture….

Spare some change today, sir?

This guy is supposed to be one of the greats and I just couldn’t stand him. “You want to see a Neil Young concert?” I’d say to my pals, “ Go find a homeless guy on the street, and poke him with a stick until he starts whining. Sounds the same, looks the same…hell probably even smells the same.” Admit it, if you saw this guy anywhere near your kid’s school, you’d call the cops.

I was content with my smug hipster douchebag pronouncements for the longest time. Neil and Norm sucked, and that was that. And then something unexpected happened.

I started hearing other bands cover Neil Young songs. And sure enough, every time I did, it threw me for a loop. These were not just good songs, these were awesome songs. I was jumping around like a madman when I saw the Trews cover “Keep on Rocking in the Free World.” Hell I even dig the cheesy Prelude version of “After the Goldrush” . Not to mention all the amazing work with Buffalo Springfield, “For What it’s worth” being a personal fav. These are really profound, thoughtful, interesting songs, that musically kick some serious ass.

At the same time I started seeing some of the stuff Norm was doing and was forced to admit it was not just funny, it might even be a strange kind of genius. I finally started to get the idea that the lame duck routine was just that…a routine. His Conan appearances were always classics. His roasting of Bob Saget with horribly lame and tame roast jokes was hysterical and incredibly ballsy.And he played it so straight that somewhere, miles away in his posh estate, Bob Newhart got a shiver and didn’t quite know why. Adam Corrolla’s version of Death on Family Guy doesn’t even come close to Norm’s. And his latest appearance on Conan with the gift basket was savage and razor sharp.

And yet, despite these new perspectives, when one or the other appears on tv or the radio I fight the urge to switch the channel immediately.

So what’s the problem? What do these two have in common? I narrowed it down to one thing.

It’s the voice.

I can’t stand Neil Young’s whine, and I can’t stand Norm’s weird bleating circuitous delivery. So much so that it impedes my ability to enjoy their own particular brands of genius

“There was baaaaaaannnd playing in my heeeeeaaaadddd”

UGH!!!!

“Heeeey you know there uh Conan, I uhh found out something about camels…you know ehhh yeah yeah… they uh…they have HUGE COCKS” (Blink Blink)

GAAAAHHHH!!!

So, I hereby state for the record that I acknowledge that Neil Young is a rock icon, brilliant songwriter and a National Treasure. I also admit that Norm MacDonald is a warped genius, and innovative wise ass that deserves his rabid cult following.

And I will still only be able to listen to them in small doses.

So the only question that remains for you, dear Correctness reader is this…Where the hell do I, an ardent Rush fan, get off complaining about someone’s VOICE?

P.S. Look up Norm’s latest visit to Conan online, and if you tune in, I believe Neil Young will be on the Tonight Show this very evening.

Dear Gibson Guitars:

Let’s get right to it: What have you done to the Les Paul? You took a childhood dream, a kind of faith, and murdered it. Gibson, did you never love me?

I went shopping today. I was going to buy myself a Christmas/birthday present for the years 2010 thru 2012, because that is how long it will take me to pay off one of your guitars.

So, as I just implied above, and after significant deliberation, I decided that I would buy a proper grown up Les Paul. You know, your flagship electric guitar. The FAMOUS one. The one that rawk music would be neutered without? The one made legendary in the late sixties when you stopped producing it, and brought back years later with unparalleled success? The UBIQUITOUS Les Paul? That one.

When I was around ten, my dad told me about when he was in a band- they might have been terrible, it doesn’t matter, but he had a buddy who had a Les Paul, and he said playing along the neck of it was “like playing on butter”- and I’m sure he meant that to be complimentary, because butter is smooth and creamy, and we were a margarine family at the time and margerine was supposed to be better for you. Since then, I have always wanted to play Les Paul- I’d never even seen one, nor could I recognize one. Plus, I grew up in the eighties, and there were armies of cheap strat copies being strummed hard through solid state amps with ill-fitted “overdrive” switches that did nothing. Pick up switches were thrown from one position to another, making no audible difference. Guitars that felt like rusty razors taped willy-nilly to a particularly unbalanced log, guitars painted the colours of hair metal and suicide.

I have a Les Paul, did you know that? A cheap one, because I was a student. It is from your sister company, it’s an Epiphone Les Paul Classic- It had those wicked exposed pick-ups (they looked so badass to me.) that were meant to mimic the Genuine Gibson (TM) 57 Classics your company still supplies, and it had the slim tapered 60’s neck- it was rad at the time. Rad factor, 7 out of ten. I later shelled out the money for the real 57 p’ups too, and had those bad boys installed. After a few tweaks, it has been a real workhorse of a guitar. I love it. Might I also point out here that your 57 classics were themselves meant to mimic the PAFs on the Original 57 Les Paul with humbuckers, and you got it about right, so what’s with the Burstbuckers? I digress- for now…

I picked up my LP classic the first year you were making guitars in China (more on this in a moment…), and it has been more or less bulletproof. God I love it so… Pretty as a picture too. I get that my book-matched maple top is a maple veneer on top of a plain maple cap, on top of some plain mahogany, and the materials on my guitar are of an acceptable standard, and that the finishing isn’t perfect- It’s meant to look basically like a Les Paul and sound basically like a Les Paul, and it is close enough- hell, with those new pickups on it sounded, well, it sounded damn near the real thing, if I do say so myself.

Sadly, my Epi Les Paul needs an overhaul, some basic maintenance, and it has a few electrical issues. What could I expect, right? I’ve had it five years without any real problems. So I went shopping for a real Gibson Les Paul. Plus, my guitar was made in China, and it is presumably mostly comprised of lead and melamine, because everything American is always better than anything Chinese- right? Right? That’s why the American stuff is more expensive- it’s labour intensive, and the labour is pricier too… I assumed. Anyway, like I said, I was off to buy a shiny new Les Paul! The guitar to end all guitars.

I’ll just throw this little question out there, Oh Gibson Guitars: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU SCREW UP THE MOTHERFUCKING LES PAUL! IT’S A MOTHERFUCKING LES PAUL, GIBSON! A LES MOTHERFUCKING PAUL MOTHERFUCKING STANDARD!!!

Whilst shopping, I fIrst thought maybe I would cop a Rivers Cuomo, or a John K Samson, or a BIlly Joe Armstrong and play a Les Paul Junior- You know, one pick up, two knobs, tonal options between crunchy and crunchy…

You rereleased the Les Paul Junior a few years back, and presumably because it is a simpler guitar to make, and half the price of a grown up Les Paul, you felt like you could assemble them with scrap parts, barbed wire, and unforgivable sin. The colour selection alone was sinful. I picked up a two-pick-up Junior (why two?) and I’m curious about who does the quality control in your top of the line American factory- You know, the factory that is hypothetically better than your Chinese one. When they were doing the fret dressing, is there a setting on the jig on the work table for “hilarious” ? Because I could feel my flesh tearing just looking at the side of the neck. Incredulous, I picked it up, and it was worse than I had imagined. $1200 my ass. Now I will give you that it sounded nice- quite nice in fact, but Sweet Merciful Christ, how about a little basic attention to detail, even on your lower priced models?

Oh, If I may take a brief tangent here, did you ditch the recent Chinese Epiphone Elitist line because the guitars were too good, and making your American Les Pauls look shitty? I only ask because it is the only thing that makes sense.

In any case, “Fuck that shit,” I thought to myself, “I’ll buy a real genuine Gibson Les Paul”. So, after looking at the train wreck top woods you have selected for your 08 models (I see you didn’t release an 09, could that be because of economic decline, of failing customer support in response to your ugly-ass, ear-raping guitars?) I selected the least visually offensive Les Paul 08 standard from the selection at the store.

I have another question for you Gibson: What happened to being able to hear the G string? Did the mid range suddenly go out of fashion? I ask because I sometimes play chords that use the G string- in fact, I’m going to say 90% of the time…

Why did you chamber the body of a classic design? It already worked, everyone said it worked, why did you fuck with it? Did you develop the new Burstbuckers to replace the 57’s because you needed pickups that would sound right inside of a redesigned body, or did you simply think it would be humorous to take the Les Paul “standard” and make it utterly nonstandard in every conceivable way?

GIbson, you can have this, you Ass-Hats: the “plek’d” process for fret dressing works great, and I hope to Christ my room temperature never varies from 22 Celsius, lest the extreme close shave you gave the frets becomes problematic.

Entirely against my better judgement, I picked up a Les Paul “traditional” which I’m told has a non-chambered body. This is a heavy guitar, the way a Les Paul is supposed to be- It should, in fact, be a neck breaking labour to wear an LP through an entire concert. The mass helps the sustain and the tone- I’m not saying I’m an expert, it’s just that a bazillion people say so, and a bazillion people must be right.

Here is another issue with the traditional: Speed knobs. I hate speed knobs. HATE. The knobs, which I somewhat controversially consider to be decorative, should at least be sexy to look at- and why GOLD speed knobs? Correct answer for the exam: Top Hat Knobs, Amber.

Mounting those gold speed knobs on top of the baffling selections of top woods is even more confounding. At least I could hear the midrange again. I know my bookmatched maple top is a veneer on top of real maple, but whycome my veneer is so sexy, and your hand selected, top of the line woods look like they were grown in a radioactive swamp? And how come you can’t seem to get heritage cherry sunburst right anymore? I might buy black, and avoid the whole issue.

Aren’t your finishes supposed to be nitro-cellulose too? Why does it feel just as sticky as the polyester on my Epi Les Paul?

I don’t think you guys are even trying anymore. If you continue to do ridiculous things like this, I will go out and buy a Telecaster. That’s right, a goddamn Tele. With tone so thin, anorexics will envy it.

Fuck you for ruining a dream I’ve had for more than 20 years,

Rob

10. Ozzy Osbourne Peppermint Bark at the Moon

9. Susan Boyle- Yule Forget Who I am this Time Next Year

8. Kanye West Imma Let You Finish…Decorating The Tree

7. R Kelly - Golden Streams of Christmas Joy

6. Amy Winehouse- Christmas Crackwhores (Say it fast)

5. Judas Priest Screamin for Presents

4.Beatles-The Red and White Album

3.Tragically Hip – Christmas Day for Silent Night

2. Iron Maiden - I Saw Eddie Killing Santa Claus

1. Nickleback- All We Want for Christmas is Talent

I think cover art is the one single thing I miss most about albums. Nowadays, even if you do get a CD it’s just as likely to be a picture of the artist looking hot/cool/tough etc. When you were first getting into music, don’t you remember pouring over album covers, studying every nuance? Trying to see if it tied in with the album in some thematic way?

So with that in mind here are of 10 Album covers I remember loving as a pre-teen non female touching nerd.

#10 News of the World – Queen

I was hypnotized by that strangely soulful looking robot and the destruction he caused. What did he do to Freddy? Whatever it was it was with his finger evidently. Freddy got Fingered.

#9 Out of the Blue – ELO

Sorry Boston, there’s only room for 1 spaceship on this list and this one is it. Sure it looks like a “Simon” game, but so what… it’s awesome. I think “Mr. Blue Sky” is on this album too, which ups the awesomeness.

#8) Dark Side of the Moon – Pink Floyd

Simple, classic iconic. Elaborate isn’t always best. (See also, the White album to argue that point)

#7) Killers – Iron Maiden

Eddie…Killing motherfuckers dead since 1979. Most Maiden Album art is awesome, but this one is easily their best

#6 Toys in The Attic – Aerosmith

I like a little “What the Fuck” in my album covers don’t you? I can’t imagine looking at this thing stoned. “Jesus…what is WRONG with that FUCKING BEAR?”

#5 Who’s Next – The Who

There is something ever so Who-like, I think you will agree, about the Boys pissing on something big , ugly and industrial

#4 Kiss Alive

This about sums up the band, and their appeal in one magnificent two ton ball of Gouda. It’s a testament to this cover that when listening to a Kiss song, I always picture them doing the song live, regardless of what the song is about.

#3 Abbey Road – The Beatles

I liked this album cover so much I bought a coffee mug with it on it. It succumbed to a dark fate. but my love of this iconic cover did not.

#2 Led Zeppelin IV – Led Zeppelin

This is also the cover art that gave us the 4 symbols. It was a tough one for Zep, but this is my choice of all their covers (Although Physical Graffiti is also awesome)

And #1

Has to be…

#1) Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band – The Beatles

The “Citizen Kane” of Rock music strikes again. Look at the color…the detail, the weird significant but not significant nods to various friends and influences. Any cover that is sooooo analyzed that stoners talked themselves into thinking one of the Band members was dead has to be #1 on the list.

Might as well go for a so what?

Dear Q107,

I am a big classic rock fan, and I enjoy your station very much…most of the time..I understand you have Canadian content laws, I get it. It helps Canadian artists. I’m all for that.
It is my distinct pleasure to inform you that there are other Canadian artists besides Kim Mitchell. You might have heard of a three piece out of Toronto calling themselves “Rush”. There were these guys called “The Guess Who” who were pretty big for awhile. My friend saw a band called “The Tragically Hip” once, said they were pretty good.

My point here is that my “Living Loving Maid” buzz is constantly being crushed under the weight of “Might as well go for a soda.” If I may clarify still further…

I for one do not give a shit whether or not he is a wild party, nor how pretty the fucking patio lanterns are, the man does not deserve anywhere NEAR the amount of airplay you give him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it could be worse, it could be Nickleback (Thank you for not playing them, by the way. I do appreciate that.) but is there really such a thing as a KIM MITCHELL FAN? I mean besides your programmers there?

Who lists Kim Mitchell in there musical influences? Is there anyone without a mullet who even owns a Kim Mitchell record?

He has a syndicated radio show, is that why you play him constantly? He’s a buddy of yours? Alice Cooper also has a (really good) radio show at night. You aren’t playing Alice Cooper constantly.

This is a serious problem for me. The amount of Kim Mitchell you play makes me openly wish you’d play more Trooper. Never in my life did I EVER feel that I would utter the phrase “Geez, I could really stand to hear some Trooper right about now” and yet here I am. ASKING FOR MORE TROOPER. That is what it has come to. I’d rather listen to Trooper. Now I need a shower.

I am not now, nor have I ever been a drinker, I appreciate the sentiment behind Might As Well Go for a Soda, but that doesn’t mean I need to hear it EVERY DAY!!! And lets face it, it’s not exactly poetry is it? I mean Springsteen and Dylan aren’t exactly glancing over their shoulders, are they?

ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

Sincerely,

Tbinns

Dear Joe Jackson

If you have indeed seen gorillas walking with pretty women down your street perhaps you should be less concerned about who your ex is dating and more concerned about calling the Animal Control people.

Sincerely,

TBinns

Dear Guy in Detroit Rock City,

To answer your last (final?) question about why your are going to die, it has to do with a fatal combination of speed, your self confessed inability to turn in time, the gigantic truck bearing down on you and some rather elementary physics. If you have any further questions…oh. Too late, never mind.

Sincerely,

TBinns

Dear Beatles

I feel it would be remiss of me not to point out that there are, in fact only 7 days in a week. Perhaps in future you should not put Ringo in charge of the calendar. Or scheduling.

Sincerely,

TBinns

Dear Sympathy for the Devil Guy.

I give up. I have no idea what your name is. Perhaps if you stopped hooting and dropping oblique hints and just told me , (Or perhaps worn a nametag?) our conversation might have gone a lot smoother.

P.S. Why were you out jogging with David Lee Roth?

Sincerely,

TBinns

Dear War,

After an informal poll with many of my friends, I have found that pretty much none of them know the low rider. Perhaps you could give the low rider a Facebook page to improve it’s profile.

Sincerely,

Tbinns

Dear Glass Tiger,

Please accept my apologies, as I totally forgot you when you were gone. Practically the very minute you left. And I must confess some part of me was relieved.

Sincerely,

Tbinns

Dear Beyonce,

YOUR left or MY Left? Stage Left? please clarify.

Sincerely,

TBinns

According to the Correctness’s sources scientists have discovered a new species of spider in Malaysia and named it after David Bowie. It is called the “Heteropoda davidbowie”. Which is weird because that’s the first and only time the word “Hetero” has been attached to David Bowie. No word yet on whether or not the spider is made from glass, but here is a photo of the little guy…

Trivia and subsequent joke provided by Trevor Campbell. Trevor Campbell, for all your Trevor Campbell needs.