I Felt The Pressure In A TV Way

I have what I consider to be a major quirk. I have this irritating craving to hear the ending of every story I run across on television. And I don't like it.

Eat your heart out, Ned's Atomic Dustbin. 

Here's why: most of what I bumble into, on the sliding scale of depressing to clever, tends to sit on the depressing side (e.g. Law & Order SVU, the various CSIs, Blue Bloods and NCIS are interesting but occasionally go there) and I just can't take much of that without it affecting me. It's really best if I avoid it altogether. It's like vodka in a plastic bottle. You know there's nothing good there, it's not going to leave you feeling any better; but, y'know, it sure is an EXPERIENCE. Yeah. (Spoiler Alert: it's not gluten free either.)

Somehow I've noticed that television is a bigger culprit than movies. Something about the neat one-hour format is both somewhat predictable and simply too neat and tidy for me. Movies (if not edited for time, content and formatted to fit your TV) tend to leave such things more flexible. It might be due to this fact that the scraps of the Jason Bourne movies I've seen seem comparatively more interesting despite only seeing bits on WGN here and there. With a TV show, I can tell if Grissom or Gibbs or 21st-Century-Holmes-And-Watson-Played-By-The-Always-Attractive-Lucy-Liu really have the suspect cornered by looking at the clock. Movie? Fuck me, I lose track of time when I don't have commercials at regular intervals. And that's a good thing.

I wonder if the fact that there's more freedom to choose precisely what you want to watch when selecting a movie over plopping down for a TV episode that's effectively been selected for you makes any difference in how I feel about it. (I mean, for years we've all been told - yes, you too - abut what junk TV beams into our homes, and I tend to agree in general. The cadmium age of reality television pretty much codified that for me.) And that's actually another thing: I get tired of murder for after dinner every night. Murder in a movie doesn't bother me near so much. A good murder mystery movie - like one of my personal favorites, the 1974 Murder On The Orient Express - is a complete experience, something to set aside a serious chunk of time to enjoy, experience, and savor. What use is a meal without SOMETHING to chew on? There's always a loose thread, something that just gnaws at you. And sometimes that thread turns out to be a descending whip - a plot twist that breaks everything you thought you knew to be reliable and solid. Hitchcock knew. Every movie of his has something to make you want to see the next scene. Commercial breaks utterly spoil the flow of a theatrical movie; TV shows are made with them in mind. They are in effect pre-spoiled for your convenience (I love this turn of phrase. Sorry if I overuse it in real life).* I've always felt that having to work around commercials somehow makes the work compromised; kills the flow, forces shortcuts, makes it easy to slouch into routines defined by those very breaks and just become the dreaded phone-in that everyone loses interest in.

I think another thing that contributes is the need for closure. Since the beginning of time, humans have yearned to have their questions answered. How many people went off to war, or to find work, or whatever, and simply disappeared from the lives of their families, never to return? Not even with the grim uncertainty of being recorded as missing in action? No grave, not so much as a sliver of evidence they were there besides fallible memory? Sure, that may not have been the same relationship as it is today; but even so, any emotional connection would lead one to wonder just what happened. If a TV show can get just one hook into your reserve of emotional interest, of course it's going to drive you to find out. If a writer and an actor and a production team can distill an emotional connection with a face on a TV screen to a strength addictive enough that just ten seconds of NTSB-delivered presence can drag you in front of the screen by the feels and keep you there; there's obviously something inside you that's been prepared, over the course of human history, to respond, to follow along. It's a part of you, if you're not a sociopath (y'know, like the villains-of-the-weeks on Criminal Minds, especially).

Another thing is that with SO MUCH screen time devoted to finding the murderer within an hour(ish); you know, you just know that somewhere along the line, plots are going to be reused. Maybe not by the same shows, or even on the same network, but eventually, some writer is going to stumble on a used idea. A good writer should be able to use it in a unique way, or at least put their own unique stamp on it; but some core element is going to turn out to be suspiciously similar to one previously aired. At least South Park once pointed out that The Simpsons already did it all. Which, ironically, was kind of original, actually.

I think if less time were devoted to murder and ugly street crime (something many of us tune in to fiction for an escape from [and not counting alleged 'reality' TV, either, which is pretty ugly too]) I'd be more inclined to tune in; I actually miss Letterman, Leno, and Ferguson, for one thing (who'd a'thunk?). Sitcoms don't usually do much for me; Britcoms are preferable, actually. Original and interesting stand-up comedy may have died with Mitch Hedberg, unfortunately. And British sketch comedy is far better than what passes for the American variety these days - even old British sketch comedy. Canadian isn't too shabby, though. At least even Lost managed to contain enough of an element of mystery to keep people talking about it. Game Of Thrones? The Shanarra series now on (really?) MTV? I'll just take the original novels, thanks.

I know I've written some bite-size diatribes against television before; but that was typically in offense against some specific piece of televised waste. Not this time. I'm finally declaring to the world that I am officially done with broadcast and cable television. I just can't fucking tolerate it anymore. Paul Graham recently wrote that anything you find yourself saying that life is too short to contain, you should fucking jettison (paraphrased).

TV, consider yourself by-and-large jettisoned from my life. It was already too short for you once I stopped watching Shining Time Station and Walker, Texas Ranger. Politely fuck off.

* I should clarify that my dislike of commercials is not part of some diatribe against consumerism; rather it's because I find them personally irritating. Imagine if your TV suddenly got zits one day. I'm certainly no anti-capitalist; I just exult in the fact that the Information Age makes it possible to seek out the products one wants with far more... interactive interaction. Or maybe with more agency on the part of the customer. Something like that.

Never Ever Learned To Read Or Write So Well

So, we'll be able to look at the alleged business offices, but not actually visit them. AWESOME.

You Got A Hubcap Diamond Star Halo

Well, it sems I did it again. I went to Dee's on Thursday and put ten bucks in the jukebox. So immediately after I went up, there was a lady who put another ten in right after me, and she spent XTC, 80s Neil Young, Guided By Voices and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs waiting for ten bucks worth of T. Rex. That's a lot of the late Marc Bolan.

Even They Are Falling Like The Tears In My Eyes

Sometimes, the South Side can surprise.

He Says "What You Want This Time?"

Whiskey is liquid sunshine.

-George Bernard Shaw

I like to get hammered on Friday night
Sometimes I can't wait so Monday's all right

-Neil Young

'Mixologist' is a stupidly unnecessary word. 'Bartender' got along just fine for decades without any help, thank you very much - excepting the bouncer, of course.

-Unknown

...the solution doesn't involve watering down my every little idea and creative impulse for the sake of someday easing my fit into a mold...this is very important, so I want to say it as clearly as I can: FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

-xkcd

I've waited too long to have you hide in the back of me
I've cheated so much I wonder how you keep track of me

-Guided By Voices

He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire.

-Sir Winston Churchill

Maj. Strasser: What is your nationality?
Rick: I'm a drunkard.
Capt. Renault: That makes Rick a citizen of the world...

-from Casablanca

Alcohol is no different from a guitar amplifier - it just makes the music in your head louder.

-Unknown

I ain't seen my baby since I don't know when
I been drinking bourbon whiskey, scotch and gin

-George Thorogood And The Destroyers

I drank to drown my sorrows, but the damned things learned how to swim.

-Frida Kahlo

There is nothing dangerous about the merely mundane. It is just a kind of emptiness...

-Enklinobarangus

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.

-from Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban

I've been sittin' here drinkin'
I'm just as lonesome as a man can be

-Muddy Waters

Lord Hinjo: Nothing says 'Condolences on the loss of your uncle' like a ninja death squad in the night.

-from Order Of The Stick

You pour six jiggers of gin into a glass and then you drink it while staring at a picture of Lorenzo Schwartz, the inventor of vermouth.

-'Hawkeye' Pierce

All good drinkers write. 

-Unknown

She's whiskey in a teacup
She gives blondes a lousy name

-Tom Waits

Thanks to Whiskey & Misanthropy for the inspiration.

Climbing Up The Topsails, I Lost My Leg

This is why my favorite drinking holiday is Wednesday. Not this coming Wednesday, mind you, but Wednesdays in general. Mondays, too. Not many people out on those days. I don't have to worry about competing for a parking place or a spot at the bar, waiting long for post-drinks food, or squeezing through unruly, inebriated crowds while on my sober-up walk.

Of course, let the calendar plop a drinking holiday on a Tuesday and I'm sober for two weeks. Or would be, if I had thought this one through. I'm sitting at Dee's Cafe, listening to Rick Astley - of all people, Rick Fucking Astley* - and watching buzz-cut-headed bros sit on the covered pool tables in complete defiance of the notices placed by management. Amateur drunkards tend to clog the streets starting with the weekend before the holiday, and every night thereafter until the actual day after. That's what happened to me last Halloween - I decided to hit the bar on November 1st (unlike the previous Halloween, when I went down on the actual holiday, which was a clusterfuck in its own right) and was still greeted with dozens of goofballs in costume and having trouble holding their liquor.

Better yet, the ridiculous patronage means that the glassware Dee's is using has temporarily turned disposable and therefore contra-aesthetic, and I was hoping for a nice photo of my first drinks to head up a post I'm working on.

I consider myself one of those who approach their time hitting the bar with at least a little bit of reverence - ironically not unlike how the faithful among us seem to approach going to church on Sunday. I might even go so far as to say that going to the bar on a drinking holiday reminds me of my hometown church being bombarded with worshipers at Christmas and Easter services. I imagine that most Christians are glad to have so many willing to come worship (and simultaneously wondering how to persuade them to stick around the other 50 Sundays in the year); but for a reverent drunk a la Bogart's Richard Blaine, the swell of boisterous, Lite-swilling goofballs on drinking holidays can be vexing, to say the least. And they take up the pews - uh, I mean stools, that us regulars always, always claim when we arrive on normal visits.

It's rough watching amateur night at my favorite bars; if only 'amateur' still meant someone who does something out of the love of doing so. Perhaps they'd have learned something about drinking if they approached it that way. Inexperienced drinkers can be distracting at best and dangerous at worst - from their loss of spatial sense, indoor voice and personal boundaries to disregarding all the advice about getting behind the wheel while under the influence.

For those who want to enjoy drinking - who want to truly get good at it (as good as really is possible - I mean, seriously - drinking as a skill? Who could take the idea seriously, besides me and a few I know?), I would actually recommend drinking at home. If you want to drink on a holiday renowned for alcohol consumption, throw a party at your place and make sure you have enough room for people to crash. You're in a familiar place, with people you know, and if you or your guests aren't certain of their tolerance, spending the night there is your best option. It's safer. Besides, if you don't drive, more time to drink!

I also should lay out a few of my own ground rules for going to the bar. Proper reverence for a night out drinking and being merry starts with having a good idea of your tolerance. You do not want to blaspheme at the feet of the porcelain gods, as it were; or end up arrested for a DUI; or acquire the legit nickname of Duncan Drisorderly (I think there's a punk rocker who already goes by that anyway). Sure it rhymes, but it's no less true - beer before liquor, ever sicker; liquor before beer, never fear. If you arrived operating any motor vehicle with a steering apparatus (how you'd drive a GP30 to the bar**, I have no idea), you may even wish to avoid harder spirits altogether.

Once you start to feel it, stay calm. This might seem like a counterintuitive rule, but I grew up in a Presbyterian church and we're pretty placid in general, really. The last thing you want to do is get kicked out for being a drunken oaf, or piss off your fellow drinkers and the bartender. Just stay relaxed.

The last key rule is to tip well. You can tip every drink (i.e. 'keep the change') or wait until you head out, but never give a bartender a small tip. Be generous. You actually get better service when you tip well and regularly. Even better, thank the bartender as well. Sure, AC/DC says that money talks, but it's not really everything. A little human contact is always appreciated; bartenders are people first, not just alcohol dispensers.

I do have to admit that in the particular case of St. Patrick's Day, one detail that most people overlook, and does irk me, is some ignorance of the reason for wearing green. The symbolism of green does represent Irish republicanism, but all you have to do is look at the flag and learn why one-third is orange. Protestant followers of William III, King of England (who actually invaded England, deposed King James II, and won the crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland), took his heraldic color of orange as one of their symbols in the religious conflicts of the time. In the flag itself, green can be taken to symbolize Catholics, and as stated the orange represents the Protestant minority; with the white being an appeal for peace between the two factions. As for myself, I'm pretty sure there's no Irish ancestry in me, so if you ever spot a guy wearing a t-shirt with either the Scottish or Welsh flag, it's probably me.

I should probably get out of here before it gets any crazier, but I sure wish some of my fellow bar patrons would read this and take a few pointers with them. Maybe I'd be more inclined to hang out with them on the weekend, instead of having to be the only guy at the bar at the beginning of the week.

* The reaction is more aimed at 1) the blatant violation of Rules 1 and 2, 2) the fact that Astley is British rather than Irish - specifically a Lancashire lad, and 3) that there does in fact exist the possibility that someone here tonight may be a legit fan.

** In the UK, this becomes 'driving a Black 5 down to the pub'.

They'll Be Too Drunk To Know

So like I went down to Dee's Cafe tonight and dang if tonight wasn't the most awesome I've had in so long it's not even funny and I totally owe Max a drink for inviting me to hang with his crowd and like you guys are awesome and I wish Max and Heather the best, and Kate you were cool too, and Heather don't service jobs suck amirite? and I'm so jealous of the dude Max and I lost at darts to cause dang man your holiday sweater was actually cool, like totes? and I was so drunk and that was the most fun I've had at the bar in a long time guys let's do this again sometime?

You Don't Have To Confess To Sleeping In The Lions' Den

So I randomly heard about Wild Flag and their debut LP after discovering that Sleater-Kinney broke up. I really don't know much about Sleater-Kinney, but I decided to see what one of their successor bands sounded like (the other is The Corin Tucker Band, founded by ex-S-K guitarist Corin Tucker [duh]).

Sleater-Kinney's lineup is ex-S-K guitarist Carrie Brownstein and drummer Janet Weiss; ex-Helium guitarist Mary Timony; and ex-Minders drummer Rebecca Cole, now on keyboards for Wild Flag. These girls have built an impressive sound for themselves; and I feel that, with a few minor headscratcher sounds, it's as close to a perfect disc as you can get from a modern band. This is destined to be, if not an outright classic, one of those lost gems that everyone just needs to hear.

What I Liked:
Every song has their unquenchable energy, even when the pace is slower than average. A great knack for rock riffs and meoldies is inescapable. Their lyrics are very good for a punk band, even with a slight feminine undertone (keep in mind here that Sleater-Kinney was one of the later bands in the riot grrrl movement). Carrie's voice is well-suited for their styleas well. I really like her delivery almost all of the time (we'll talk about this later). Mary and Carrie's guitar work (I'm not sure who does which part but I would guess that Carrie handles lead while Mary takes rhythm full-time) are very good, and more complex than expected for a rock band rooted heavily in punk. I'm enjoying Rebecca's subtle approach to the keyboards, but think that eventually she should occupy a more prominent place in the mix. Janet is a solid drummer, nothing flashy, and no solos; but holds the band together. Best songs would have to be 'Romance', an upbeat rocker to open the album; 'Black Tiles', a restrained punk smash to close it out with a catchy discordant riff; the nigh-psychedelic 'Glass Tambourine'; the drawn-out anthem 'Racehorse'; and 'Electric Band', a very classic-sound pop/rocker. The other tracks are almost as good, though; every track on the disc feels like it belongs without every song seeming indistinguishable.

What I Didn't Like:
Not very much. The only track that gave me problems was 'Boom', a fast-paced if gloomy punk selection, and the only real thing that bothered me was Carrie's vocal. She occasionally delves into what I call the 'pathetic vocal', and I'm a bit bothered by her seemingly overplaying it. Also discussed before was Rebecca's relative lack of presence on the disc; but relatively, it's not that serious. It's more of a nitpick.

In Conclusion:
Great album, with a few flaws. One of the albums I would recommend to anyone who enjoys rock and punk, and pretty much anyone who likes good music. Why aren't the hipsters all atwitter about this band? Possibly their age. Believe it or not, Carrie Brownstein is the youngest member, turning 39 this coming September, and Janet Weiss is all of 47! I must say in all honesty that when I first listened to the disc that I thought I was listening to a much younger group than they really are. I say good for them! Rock on, ladies! These kids nowadays have nothing on you!

On a very different note (ha), the Yeah yeah yeahs have finally released their fourth album, Mosquito. A year late on their three-year album cycle, the disc has nonetheless been almost entirely worth the wait. Maintaining the same lineup for 11 years (Karen O on vocals, Nick Zinner on guitar, and Brian Chase drumming), Yeah Yeah Yeahs have gained a reputation for a sexually charged, arty, punky style and have generally lived up to it. Releasing Mosquito in 2013, I feel, has maintained that arty, sometimes trashy, feel that their best music posesses. Even with some hangups, their latest is a good vehicle for keeping the band current and relevant a decade after their first release.

What I Liked:
The best things about The Yeah Yeah Yeahs has always been their raw, sometimes trashy sound, and while this record is more polished production-wise than their first two releases, the delivery recalls their early work very well. Karen is in excellent form, occasionally channeling her sexually raw delivery of those days, but often with a Debbie Harry-style gloss/grace. This is not a problem for me at all. Nick plays his guitars and tickles some e-ivorys with his typical skill, and Brian is a solid drummer, delivering his typical quality performance. The melodies and riffs are good here, and even a few hooks show up (see 'Subway', in particular). The record has a darkness to it; not the making-out-in-the-worst-lit-corner-of-the-dive-bar darkness of Fever To Tell, but a more sinister darkness, like a zombie movie darkness, done well. The last quarter opf the record is much lighter and brighter; like a happy ending. And this brings up my main strange feeling about the disc: I could have sworn that this was a concept album. Everything feels extremely cohesive; to the point where I want there to be some storyline that weaves every part of the album together. Best songs are the excellent 'Sacrilege', 'Subway', and 'Mosquito', the latter channeling that early fuck-me-now sexuality almost perfectly; the B-movie theme-ish 'Area 52'; and the ethereal 'Always' and 'Wedding Song'. The rest of the disc sounds good too, buuut...

What I Didn't Like:
That said, I must take issue with some things; firstly, I've always felt that Karen's voice is one of the hottest things ever committed to vinyl. So why is her voice subjected to so many effects and types of processing on this disc? There are some tracks where it fits perfectly (see 'These Paths' and 'Under The Earth', the latter needing it very much), but generally, it's in the way for me. Plus, as great a song as 'Sacrilege' is, I don't like that Karen see,ms to disappear from the last 3/4 of a minute from the track, leaving the chorus to finish up. And on a related note, why are the lyrics so repetitive? A lot of the disc has almost mantra-like lyrics. In particular, 'Under The Earth', 'Always'  and 'Despair' feel very repetitive. I'm also still not sold on Dr. Octagon rapping on 'Buried Alive'; it sounds ok, but I'm not exactly a fan of rap in general so it doesn't do much for me. I'd also have been more interested if Karen and the good Doctor had been given more lyrical interplay. And possibly my biggest hangup-the specific lyrics of 'These Paths': I love this song, until Karen sings the line 'these pants/come off/against, against'. Whaaa??? What the hell? I really, really do not get it. I just can't understand why this lyric was so important to the song, despite its awkwardness. It's like a forced attempt at the early sexuality. I'm legit bothered by it.

In Conclusion:
A very good album, one that I would certainly recommend to fans of the band, who haven't taken the plunge, or prefer Fever To Tell to  It's Blitz. To non-fans, it might be a harder sell, but it's still not a bad place to get acquainted with the band.

I'm Shining Just For You

Let me be your everlasting light... Thanks to Matt Sutej for the photo.

Well, the 2013 visit to the Consol Energy Center in Pittsburgh by the Black Keys (and The Flaming Lips) has come and gone, but my post-show glow has not been dampened yet. I was eagerly anticipating this show from the moment I heard about it. I've been a major Black Keys fan since I heard 'Your Touch' off Magic Potion and fell in love with their hard-boiled brand of blues-rock. Hell, I even have four of their albums on vinyl now. As it says on the back of The Big Come Up, their debut, it truly is amazing that two guys from Ohio could make music with the sound they do so well at in this day and age.

The show was a double-bill with The Flaming Lips, and I knew very little about them except that for a long time in the mid-2000s they were indie rock darlings (in a career that goes from about 1986 to the present day) and that that 'Tangerine' song was actually titled 'She Don't Use Jelly' (and a very curious piece of pop songwriting to boot).

So we went in (me, Sammy Joyce, Matt Sutej, and Jeremy Shaw) and boy were we in for a treat. First up was the Flaming Lips' set. Like I said, I really had little idea what to expect, but we had heard that the Lips' stage show was damn awesome. Wayne Coyne running around in a giant hamster ball over the crowd, half-nude women splashing paint on each other, and all manner of strange and fascinating sights. We would not be let down.

I still remain bewildered by the Lips' set; it was, in a word, mindblowing. Sadly, none in the crew thought to get any photos of the set: the creepiness of Coyne cradling a limp baby (certainly a doll) in his arms as he sang; the psychedelic visions of nude dancing women in technicolor display; the revolving images of the world from space, the human eye and the nude vulva (sometimes in color inversion); tendrils of light that crept across the stage; and I still don't know what the 'fighting kite' that pulsed with the music was supposed to represent, but I was very much impressed and blindsided by the bizarre visions that The Flaming Lips elected to accompany their set. The music was primarily from their new album, The Terror, and I had not heard anything from it before the show. I was very intrigued  and I do have it now, on vinyl; though I haven't found a moment to listen to it.

That said, when The Black Keys came on for the main attraction, I knew exactly what was going to happen  Almost. You know what they say about some bands that their studio material doesn't do the live show justice? E.G. Deep Purple - they were all tight and perfect in the studio, but when it came time to go on tour, they pulled out every stop possible and rocked the hell out of their audiences. I am glad to report that The Black Keys are a member of this club!

I was surprised when they opened with 'Howlin' For You' from Brothers; this is a favorite of mine, and I'm now guessing that it's a fan favorite. Most of the material was the full band stuff from Attack & Release, Brothers, and El Camino. I had secretly been hoping they might go way back in their catalog and play some older stuff, and for a few songs in the middle of the set they stripped down to just Patrick and Dan and played 'Thickfreakness', 'Girl Is On My Mind' and 'Your Touch' (which they rocked up a lot, instead of just playing it like it was from the album). Visuals were limited to them on stage with some accent footage of broken-down industrial towns like their hometown of Akron and driving shots. Neat stuff, but just an accent to the music.

The photo is from the encore: they played 'Everlasting Light' and 'I Got Mine', and during the former they lowered this HUGE disco ball from the ceiling; I swear it must have been nine feet across! That was a really cool moment, and they saved a lightboard that spelled out 'The Black Keys' for no ther reason than to drop it during 'I Got Mine'. Daaang. They are a powerful live act, and seeing them beofre they got big must have been very interesting, in smaller venues than the Consol.

It's Circle Shows In A Ghostly Glow Of Earthly Luminescence

Just had an epic evening on the South Side with my friend Matt. In between chatting with random strangers about the 2010 Skynyrd concert at the Pavilion, jukebox terrorism (Aldo Nova, Tom Waits and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs were on the front lines) and other random discussion items (needlessly expensive bars, romantic prospects, music, other friends, apartments we should be living in, etc.) we noted that tonight was a full moon, and we had the best time out down there that either of us have had in a long time. I've actually seen it before; a really awesome night out drinking on the South Side happens when there's a full moon.

Coincidence? I daresay I wonder. It's just consistent enough that I'm sure it's not by chance. I do wonder if it's not the case that, instead of us being aligned with the full moon, it's actually the South Side that exists in harmony with the glowing nighttime orb. What sun sign is Pittsburgh, anyway?

Also, we hit up Jack's, on Carson and 12th; and St. James Place, on South 18th, almost to the Slopes. Matt hadn't been to Jack's before, and I hadn't been there in about a couple months, so it was a good thing we stopped in. Got to talk to the bartenders who know me as a longtime regular (until recently); and Matt likes the place too now, so that's a plus. And St James' is the only bar I've heard of that has Duquesne on tap. Incidentally, Jack's is the only place I know that has Woodchuck hard cider on tap, now that I think about it. Those of you with wheat gluten allergies, I'm looking (figuratively) at you. 

Last but not least, I'm hoping to get a group together to go down the week after my birthday. I'll be spreading the word more officially soon, I hope, but we've got two birthdays to go first.

If You See What I See, Bury Me

I just learned of the existence of a TV show called Repo Games. When did failure become a game show? Doesn't anyone else realize how horrible this is? Am I the only one who has realized it's time to grow up?

I'm never watching a thing on television that doesn't have Craig Ferguson in it from now on.

Why can't I get Sleigh Bells' 'Road To Hell' out of my head?