“Goddamit! Jeeesus Kuurr-riiist! Turn that crap down!” Throughout my teenage years, those are the words I heard my father use most often. He was referring, of course, to the music I was blasting, which he abhorred almost beyond words. After a while it didn’t matter what it was, either: Rolling Stones, Tijuana Brass, Little Mary Sunshine, or the Elves Gnomes Leprechauns Little Men’s Chowder and Marching Society — it was TOO DAMN LOUD. Turn that crap down!!
This from a man who perched in his underwear before the Dynakit Hi-Fi blasting Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, following the lyrics in a paperback book and bellowing along (“I’m called Little Buttercup, Sweet Little Buttercup, tho’ I shall never know why…..”). Standing to conduct the orchestra with a smoldering and stinking Phillies blunt. Great god’s bloody wounds. But that’s another story, and a goddam funny one. Wish I had photos.
In an interview with the British newspaper The Mail on Sunday, Binyam Mohamed, who was recently released from the United States detention camp in Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, discussed his treatment while in American custody and renewed his claim that he was tortured. “There were loudspeakers in the cell, pumping out what felt like about 160 watts, a deafening volume, non-stop, 24 hours a day. They played the same CD for a month, “The Eminem Show.” It’s got about 20 songs on it, and when it was finished, it went back to the beginning and started again.”
Read the whole article. It’s a scream. Evidently the best shit to drive a prisoner crazy is heavy metal crap like Metallica. No surprise, right? How much of that can you handle, unless you’re cabbage-brained Beavis and Butthead?
But other interrogation techniques featured obnoxious soppy crap like Kris Kristofferson’s Greatest Hits! And Matchbox 20! I read one account of prisoners reduced to sobbing gelatinous mold after a few hours of Meow-Meow-Meow-Meow Meow-Meow-Meow-Meow Meow-Meow-Meow-Meow MEOW-Meow-Meow-Meow from the Meow Mix commercial. Hell, that was torture just to type!
Personally, I’d enjoy an hour on the rack compared to the same amount of time sitting in an armchair exposed to Journey’s Greatest Hits. Fifty lashes or Sinead O’Connor? String me up! Lay them on!
The power of Art. Good thing most musicians use it for Good, not Evil. Best leave Ted Nugent out of this.