Showing posts with label Paul McCartney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul McCartney. Show all posts

Monday, February 13, 2012

Off Key

If there was any good to come from Whitney Houston’s sudden and shocking passing on Saturday.
It’s that she didn’t have to sit through the 210 minute tragedy called the Grammy Awards on Sunday.
For years we have heard that the music business is dead.
Sunday night we confirmed it.
For three-and-a-half hours we watched an industry disappear in front of our eyes.
It was so bad.
Chris Brown performed.
Twice.
You know Chris Brown.
The dude who produced Rihanna's biggest hit.
She was also there.
And she sang too... two.
Two songs.
One by herself.
And one with Coldplay.
Now had the Grammy producers brought their A-Game, they would’ve had Brown and Rihanna duet a song.
“I’ve Got You Under My Skin.”
“Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”
“Beat It.”
Anything by The Black Eyed.... Peas. 
The possibilities are endless.
And it probably coulda happened.
As unbelievable as this sounds, those two young lovers are rumored to be back together.
Again.
I guess she just doesn’t know a bad thing when it hits her.


The hollywood crowd seemed to have forgotten about the past as well.


They stood and applauded Brown like he was Roman Polanski.

But these two were far from the worst part of this show.
That Grammy Award goes to something called Nicki Minaj.
Ok, I admit that I really enjoy Nicki’s song Super Bass.
But whatever good Nicki had done in the past was wiped out by her atrociously atrocious performance on Sunday.
I’m ok with weird.
I love Lady Gaga.
But Nicki’s skit was so far out there, I almost started begging for more Chris Brown.
It started with a confessional... and a priest... then a film... about an exorcism... followed by a new song.
About God knows what.
Then there was blue-haired Katy Perry.
She came out to sing her big hit “E.T.”, a song about Mary Hart’s legs.
But midway through the song, the music stopped.
And the mic gave out.
Followed by the lights.
For half a second, it looked like this show was about to get good.
A major league screw up.
On National TV.
But seconds later, the Katy Perry body double, who was fake singing that song, rushed off the stage into the darkness.
As the real Katy appeared above the stage.
To sing another song.
A new song.
About her bitter breakup with actor Russell Brand.
I didn’t see Don Henley in the crowd, but Katy’s lyrics brought plenty of dirty laundry.
“You chew me up and spit me up.  You took my life, you drained me down.  But that was then and this is now.”
This song was so venomous, Alanis Morissette was blushing.
Somewhere.
You remember her.
She was nominated for Best New Artist.
In 1996.
She probably would’ve won if it wasn’t for Hootie.
And his Blowfish.
This year’s top rookie went to something called Bon Iver.
Not Bon Jovi.
Bon Iver.
The guy who accepted the award, presumably Mr. Iver, provided the most uncomfortable moment of the night.
His acceptance speech.
It was clear that this guy doesn’t get out of his parent’s basement much.
And he certainly doesn’t talk in front of crowds much.
And he’s definitely never met anybody named Gucci.
And if he can sing, we wouldn’t know it.
He never got the chance to perform.
Now even with all the lousy moments, there were a few good ones.
Some even great.
Adele deserves every award they gave her.
And 21 more.
She is something special.
Let’s just hope she has another messy breakup before she writes her next album.
I loved Bruno Mars impression of James Brown.
Any night you see Bruce Springsteen is a good night.
And Jennifer Hudson’s tribute to Whitney was brilliant.
And touching.
The Foo Fighters were good... both times they performed.
And Sir Bacon loves Sir Paul McCartney.
But as for the other three hours.
Ouch!
Whether it was the 10-minute tribute to the Beach Boys.
Who haven’t had a #1 hit in the last 24 years.

And didn’t have one for 22 years before that.
Or the 10-minute tribute to Glen Campbell.
Who had a giant hit with Rhinestone Cowboy.
When I was in first grade.
38 years ago.
This was the worst excuse for an awards show since the ESPY’s.
And they had plenty of chances.
They had Carrie Underwood, Kelly Clarkson and Jennifer Hudson in the same room.
How ‘bout they sing a song together?
While Ryan Seacrest is kissing their feet.

Heck, Lady Gaga sat in the crowd, the entire night.
With a net over her face.
She didn’t get any awards.
She didn’t hand out any awards.
And she didn’t perform.
She didn’t even have a costume change.
Not even one.
I must’ve heard a dozen times that this was MUSIC’S BIGGEST NIGHT.
If that’s really true.
Whitney Houston, we have a problem.

RIP sweet voice.

We already miss you.






Wednesday, June 8, 2011

20 Wings and a Prayer

You can cross the Anchor Bar off my bucket list.
Last night my 12-year old son and I visited the original home of the original Buffalo Wing.
In Buffalo.
Starting Sunday, he will be playing in a baseball tournament in Cooperstown, NY.
The home of the Baseball Hall of Fame.

And far be it from me to pass up this opportunity to squeeze some more food into my life.
So we headed east a few days early to check out a minor league baseball game.
Or two.
And to get in some great eats.
Our first stop was the Anchor Bar, where as the legend has it...
There was a Friday night in 1964 when Teressa Belissimo, the owner of the Anchor Bar, was making some chicken soup.
But she said, “it’s a shame to put such beautiful wings in a stock pot.”
So she decided to serve up the wings to her son Dom and his friends.
That’s the way it is explained on the menu.
With some sketchy grammar and bad punctuation.
But you don’t come to the Anchor Bar for punctuation.
You come for the cholesterol.
Yada yada yada.
47 years later... my mouth is on fire.
Now if you are looking for one place to go for real Buffalo Wings, this is it.
Are they the best?
I can’t say.
Are they amazing?
I can say.
YES!!!!!!
They’ve got a few different flavors to choose from:
Mild - Wussy.
Medium - Next.
Hot - Now you’re talking.
Spicy BBQ -- I hear ya.
and
Suicidal! -- Need more be said?
My son and I ordered 10 of the Hot and 10 of the Spicy BBQ.
To start.
He wanted to try one Suicidal Wing.
But they don’t serve just one.
So they gave us the sauce to sample while we were waiting for our order to arrive.
I stuck my pinky in.
Just like you stick your pinky in the wine during the Passover Seder.
(That’s for my Jewish brethren.)
And for the first 15 seconds, the Suicidal sauce was unbelievable.
Such a flava.
For the next 15 minutes, the sauce was UNBELIEVABLE.
I don’t know what they put in there, but it was unreal.
Unfair.
Unedible.
Unanything -- as long as it means mother effing spicy.
I’ve had a lot of spicy food in my day.
And I love it.
But this was just too much for any human.
Well it was certainly too much for me.
Our waitress told us there’s somebody who has come in three different times to eat a bucket of the Suicidal Wings.
At the Anchor Bar, a “bucket” = 50 Wings.
One person.
50 Suicidal Wings.
One sitting.
Three different times.   
No joke.
She then added that she hasn’t seen the person in a while.
Really?
You know why Flo...  
HE’S DEAD!!!!
Now just as this sauce was getting ready to burn through my intestines, we got great news.
Our wings were ready.
All 20 of them.
So we jumped right in.
And for the next 10 minutes, I thought I was eating with Dick Enberg, because the only thing my son could say was....
“Oh My!”
He said it about 20 times, pretty much between every bite.
And that’s all he could say.
Clearly these wings were living up to the hype.
And that’s a good thing.
During the meal, we had our water glass refilled four times.
Fortunately Niagara Falls is only 15 minutes away.
But I haven’t enjoyed Wings this much since Paul McCartney’s first solo album.
Moist.
Crunchy.
Flavorful.
Perfect.
Did I mention perfect?
Now, the Anchor Bar does have other things on the menu.
Like Hot Sandwiches and Cold Sandwiches.
And Fried Haddock.
And Cheese Ravioli.
And Sauteed Chicken Liver and Mushrooms.
Really.
But why?
Why would you go there for anything other than the wings?
There’s even a sign outside reminding you why you are there.
246.8 million Chicken Wings served.
How’d you like to be the guy who does the counting?

More water please.