In the most head-shaking news ever unleashed on the Internet, it was revealed that rapper/necrophiliac/federal agent impersonator DMX had been in talks to fight George Zimmerman, the infamous idiot who gunned down young Trayvon Martin. Luckily for humanity and overall decency in general, the fight has been called off after an outpouring of disapproval.
The whole shitshow got me thinking, though, about fighting and musicians and poor taste in general, and which musical artists I would gladly rain blows upon if given the legal chance to do so. These six bands that I’d like to fight.
(Oh, and if you happen to be in one of these groups, let’s set this shit up. Your move, Buckcherry.)
Buckcherry is excrement. Just hearing the name sends my mind spinning as I picture an army of shitty dudes wearing T-shirts under sport jackets, snorting cocaine and high-fiving their greasy-haired friends while “Lit Up” plays in the background.
As I grit my teeth, I imagine another scene where some dude with Sailor Jerry tattoos enters a “dive bar” where they sell $6 PBR tall boys, posting up in the corner with arms folded and eyes lowered. He gives a casual glance at some woman whose favorite movie is Coyote Ugly, and after a quick wink, he walks over to the jukebox and plays “Crazy Bitch.” The woman nods and then they embrace, falling on top of a pool table as the balls fly everywhere. Then they have sex and create 100 other bands from California that sound exactly like Buckcherry, proud of themselves for “livin’ the wild life.”
Requiring an outlet for my pure hate, I recently took matters into my own hands and began Tweeting my disgust to this band. While I have yet to receive a response from the members of Buckcherry, a few of the group’s fans have taken up the noble and intellectual cause of accusing me of being gay. Because you know, only some horrible gay man would reject the unbridled, pure, masculine rock & roll nature of Los Angeles’ elite renegades Buckcherry.
The Fight: Mike Tyson once tried to bribe a zoo attendant to let him into a gorilla cage so he could fight one of the gorillas who was bullying the others. I’m not sure which of us would be the gorilla is and which would be Tyson, but the fight would resemble something like that.
In a 2008 interview, Hinder frontman Austin Winkler claims he became an expert on making authentic rock because he read a book by a guy in Motley Crue. The tattooed doofus who sang the radio-wreck “Lips of an Angel” goes on to talk about how bands don’t push limits, which is funny coming from a guy whose band is as dangerous as mint ice cream.
The Fight: Austin recently entered rehab. While none of us will ever recover from how horrible Hinder is, I have respect for anyone who is willing to admit they have a problem and confront it. Fittingly, I would drink a ton of tequila and probably let the entire band beat me up in the same way you let your friend’s son always win at Mario Kart.
Jet comes from the same country as AC/DC — one of the greatest rock bands of all time — yet songs like “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?” demonstrate a clear misunderstanding of what makes rock music so great. That fact alone forces me to engage the band’s members in fisticuffs, in an effort to punch them in the head to the point where they are as stupidly awesome as their 1970s-era forefathers.
Really, I’m just trying to help.
The Fight: I’d give Jet a fair, one-on-one fight — these guys don’t seem like insufferable pieces of shit like the rest of the bands on this list. But still, I really want to feel a pair of aviator glasses break on my knuckles.
That riff, man. That awful, horrible, stupid riff from “My Own Worst Enemy.” How does someone make an electric guitar sound so despicable?
Like everyone else on the planet, I haven’t been following Lit’s career, but evidently the band is still around. Although their material has become even more faceless and forgettable, the impact of that 1999 guitar riff makes me want to gnaw on an aluminum can until my gums start bleeding. Just please, give me a chance to punch at least one nautical star tattoo off a guy wearing a fedora and vest.
You want rock & roll, you Orange County hacks? Maybe don’t hold a goddamn guitar while you’re wearing a Krokus shirt, for starters. And what the hell is up with your guitarist’s Guy Fieri haircut?
The Fight: No fight necessary — I’d just remind the band of its first failed attempt at becoming rock icons, the previous embarrassment that is RAZZLE, and watch its members crumble in shame.
2. Third Eye Blind
Just like Supertramp is invariably the answer to the question “I love this song; who plays it?” when the classic-rock station is on, Third Eye Blind is the answer to “What the hell is this terrible noise?” on the alternative-rock station.
The Fight: To ensure the band could never escape and terrorize the world with its sappy waste again, I would perform a Tombstone Piledriver a la the Undertaker and imprison the entire band in a coffin, just like what happened to the Ultimate Warrior. Only these guys would stay there.
1. John Mellencamp
When I hear one of his trite denim-shirt, gritty-voiced tales of total horse crap, I want to inject PCP into my eyeballs. I don’t know if it’s the hair, denim shirts or that Mellencamp’s idea of making rock music means writing songs that sound like they’re solely created for the purposes of being used in truck commercials, but something about the man and his music makes me blind with rage. And because I can’t quite articulate what it is that infuriates me, we have no choice but to communicate using the primal language of cavemen: violence. All of this is your fault, Mellencamp — remember these words.
The Fight: Full of genuine anger but ultimately useless — I’m too depressed and pessimistic to think I can punch my way toward meaningful change, and he’s too wealthy and famous to do anything different. Besides, I’ve got a bad back, so really, I’m not fighting anyone. Turns out I’m not really very good at it anyway.