.....dead man.

Rick Derringer: Sweet Evil

Know absolutely zero zilch about this Rick Derringer cat 'cept the basic facts, mac – like he was once in the McCoys (Rick's been told much too often that he was the Real McCoy), moved on to sharing the spotlight with the Albino Twins and finally got the gumption to get his own ego in fancy neon (even teamed up with Brillo Queen Cynthia Weil, so what), and that's the History of Li'l Rick D. (Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About This Boy). So don't wanna be pushy here, y'understand, cause this ain't no pitch to hype ya to the Auto John, but, franko, this mama mia is one spicy meatball. A plus plus, for dazzling stars, give it a bullet and you can dance to it too.

Listen, man, I been riding the bus to oblivion, watching androids eat their thumbs, can't stand this dismal pace, vegetating in a lethargic trance, until suddenly a screeching comes across the sky...ZZZZZZRRRRRRRRR...come on do the jerk, get outa that slump, fluffhead, get right with Derringer! Keep away from those rock mastodons muzzled by mercenary appetites; they only turn their listeners into lampshades. Derringer weakens your will to resist by sucking you into the Pleasures of the Riff.

Rush and the Runaways set aside their differences and meet at the bar to discuss their respective chances for induction...

In January, 2010, I started a website at blogspot.com called "The People's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame". Soon after, I set up a page on Facebook, which I linked to the blog so that people could have easier access to what I was doing there. I even wrote about it here at Pop Krazy. The idea was to create a fan-based alternative to the perennially controversial Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, OH.

I came up with a list of nominees and asked people out there on the web to pick up to ten and who ever got named on more than half the ballots would become the first members of the People's Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame. For that first election, I used a cut-off date for eligibility of 1960, just as the Cleveland hall of fame had done in their first election back in 1986, setting the mark for eligibility at 25 years following an artist or group's first release. After that January election, in which we placed seven immortals as the inaugural class, we had our second election in February, moving the eligibility year up to 1961. The plan was to go month to month as the Cleveland hall did from year to year, and after about two years worth of hardcore grass-roots fan voting, we could be "caught up" to the other hall of fame and have a nice alternative canon to the one selected by industry insiders.

Their faces drooping in disbelief, the fans shook their baffled, bewildered heads. "If we hadn't seen him with our own eyes we never would have believe it." They were commenting on Lou Reed's Transformation from a wrestling hero to a savage villain.--"Teenage Wasteland Gazette," Vol.2

Lou Reed has undergone assorted transformations. At one time he was a pirate, and another time he became a transvestite, and even a Lou Reed pamphlet was printed and distributed, claiming that Lou actually had a double who was really responsible for his first album. This year, on the other hand, Lou Reed must carry the role of a social deviant who hides in closets and jerks off at the mere mention of Marilyn Monroe. Essentially, it's back to those blissful days of Warhol legends when living was clean, and everybody could be zombies with black circles around their eyes. That's showbiz, and Lou Reed always did wanna appear in a Broadway musical.

Transformer is further proof even that Lou Reed has turned into something sicker than a homicidal-rapist-mass murderer-porno editor. Far gone is that prevailing commercial bubblegum flair so evident on the first album (e.g. – 'I Love You', 'Lisa Says', 'Love Makes You Feel', etc.). Instead, it's more like what the third Velvet Underground album would have sounded like if David Bowie had been in charge of production back then. There's a couple of cute ditties on here that perhaps belong on We're Only In It For The Money (dumbshit show tunes in which Bowie gets to fill in all the vacant gaps with chugging trombones and tubas), but other than that this album proclaims itself as most masterpieces proclaim themselves: IT GROWS ON YA!!

.....right

Here.