Our good buddy Sal Nunziato posted this yesterday over at BURNING WOOD, but in case you missed it there you're gonna hate yourself, so I'm reposting it.
The once and future Boss and a cover of Der Stingle's "I Hung My Head" that quite beggars belief. From a Sting tribute concert in NYC some time in the not so distant past.
Forgetting the fact that Bruce's guitar solo both kicks ass AND names names, all I can say is that this is the kind of performance that ultimately made it impossible for me to be a lapsed Springsteen fan anymore.
Sweet Jeebus, but this is great.
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What he lacks in technique, he makes up for with emotion. The solos are the best part of the song, which is quite monotonous no matter who's doing it. So props for bringing some life to it.
But he's still "The Butt" to me, overall. Never been a big Sting fan either. Saw a few of his solo shows: phoned-in and sleep inducing.
Attended Sting in Las Vegas with Sandy and my baby on a dirty weekend. We had a sitter for the kids in California. There was a 7.1 earthquake that night which rocked our hotel in Vegas during our after-show festivities.
Shit it felt pretty strong in Vegas. We could only imagine what happened back home in California. We called and everything was cool. Just minor damage to wall hangings and items on shelves. The main thing was the kids were alright.
The earthquake is the most memorable thing we took away from the Sting show. That and a boring DAT of the concert. Ticket stub says Friday 1999-10-15.
Vickie Rock
If I'd known it was a Sting related video I probably would have skipped it yesterday. Bruce owned it, however, and the solos are classic.
I had somehow, fortunately, been able to miss the Sting original all these years, but after watching Bruce's version I was curious enough to go listen to it. Boy, does it suck on ice.
Leave it to Bruce to find an actual, affecting, rock song in it somehow.
Saw Bruce on the Vote for Change tour in '04 and he joined REM for "Man on the Moon." He got three solos out of that one and the intensity was almost unbearable. One of the greatest things I've ever had the privilege of witnessing. Of course, I'm hugely biased. I wouldn't know how to be a lapsed Bruce fan.
(And don't get me started on the time I saw him do "Heaven Help the Lonely" with Willie Nile.)
Lyrically, though, it sounds like Sting was trying to write his own Bruce song. Sting, obviously, could not suck more.
Johnny Cash did a great cover of it also. Needless to say, I am still avoiding the Sting version.
I saw Sting's first solo tour, before he went all tantric and sleep inducing; it was pretty good, actually, if quite a bit more reserved than the Police shows. About half of the numbers were Police songs anyway, so there was that.
It is a very boring song melodically. Sting proves he has no credibility writing songs with a western motif. The time signature on his version is preposterous. Johnny Cash tried to breathe life into it, but IMO fell short. It's certainly not one of the standouts of the American sessions. I call 'em like a hear 'em and Bruce's is the best version of this mediocre song and it's all because of the guitar.
Sting is no Marty Robbins, that's for sure. He's not even a John Barlow or Robert Hunter. Tight-assed Brits don't write very good songs about rifles and hangings.
The lyrics are quite corny, but they're better than the melody(?). I can see why Bruce picked it given his own cornball tendencies. Guns, fate and consequences appeal to him. It's pretty Nebraska-ish. Plodding and dirge-like. Thank god for the solos. You can literally see Bruce project himself into and through the guitar. So major kudos for that.
Can't say I know how they feel about guns. But it would be logical to suspect they're anti-gun, given their leanings. Wonder how many times Bruce or Sting have been to the rifle range for a little skeet shooting? It's so much better than shooting galleries in arcades. Our threesome goes twice a month.
Sandy and I hit the pistol range weekly and have been doing it for decades. The guys that work there call us the ”Sharpshootin' MILF's”. I guess that's the best we can do nowadays, considering we could be GILF's by now. Is that even a valid term?
Sandy and I both have concealed carry permits. So does my baby. I pack almost all the time.
I've only had to use mine twice, now that I think about it. Once was kind of a minor deal where a flasher/molester type of guy drove slowly next to me while I was running. He seemed to think I’d enjoy seeing him whip his pretty sizable hardon out.
Much to his surprise, I pretended I did. I got in his car and drew my gun as I grabbed his keys out of the ignition. I called the cops on my cell. I held him there till the cops arrived. He had many priors. What a perv! Why wasn't he locked up?
I’ve had weirdos do that to me four times in my life. Once I was with my mom and the guy in the car next to us kept raising himself up and showing us his robust junk at every red light. I felt secure with my mom and we just laughed that one off. My mom really thought it was funny. Plus it was really OMG big and she wanted to get another look. The whole situation was pretty ridiculous. The guy would wink at us while he stroked his massive member. But neither one of us ever felt like we were in danger.
Another time, when I was going to that godawful Christian school for eighth grade, we took a field trip to Forest Lawn Mortuary in Glendale. They have audio-visual presentations of Christ’s Last Supper, Crucifixion and Resurrection. It wasn’t exactly Disneyland.
To make things even less fun, the school arranged for all the girls to sit on one side of the bus and all the guys to sit on the other. They thought of everything. But they couldn’t have imagined a handsome well-endowed thirty-something guy in a convertible jerking off in the lane next to the girls’ side of the bus.
I had a window seat and was one of the first to notice. Word spread quickly. The girls were all either laughing or grossing out. The guy stayed with us for about 15 minutes till he came. He even had a hanky to clean up. It probably gave him an extra thrill seeing “Christian School” written on the side of the bus.
It certainly gave us something to talk about besides the Resurrection and the Second Coming.
Vickie Rock
P.S. Having 24 hour tantric sex with Sting would be the embodiment of hell for me.
The other time a pervert exposed himself to me was no joke. I was alone and walking to the arcade. I was thirteen. The guy was ogling me from his car and whipped it out while yelling lewd things in Spanish.
This was one scary vato. I freaked and felt the adrenaline rush of genuine fear. I just looked straight ahead and ignored him. It pissed him off. I understand Spanish well enough to know that he was calling me a bitch and a whore. He was also saying something about fucking me in the ass and making me bleed. He pulled to the curb and got out of his car.
I started running as fast as I could and he kept gaining. Luckily I wasn’t that far from the arcade and I was able to hurdle over some juniper bushes and into the parking lot. When he saw me heading for the door he stopped the pursuit.
Once inside the arcade I told the management to call the cops. It took them forever to get there. I gave them a description of the Mexican dude and his beat up white 1962 Ford Ranchero. After taking down all the information, the cop looked me up and down and said, “You look to me like you’re asking for it.” Need I say more?
It was summer. I was wearing cut-offs, an undersized tank top and flip flops. There must have been fifty other girls at the arcade dressed similarly. I guess just by being young and shapely, we were all asking for it. Damn cop. It didn't give me much faith in their pursuit of the offender, that's for sure.
But I digress. With regard to using my gun the second time, it was after a Dada show at the Coach House. This was in the late 1990's. I went to the show alone because my baby had some last minute shit happen and Sandy was at the Idaho place.
After the show, I needed to get some petrol for the long drive home. But I missed the Ortega Highway off-ramp where I knew there were beaucoup gas stations. I took the next off-ramp so that I could go south and double back. It was well past midnight.
As I navigated my way off of the next ramp and onto Junipero Serra Road, I saw a very old-school Shell station. You know, the kind that have service bays with lube racks where they still have an in-house mechanic actually work on cars.
I pulled into the place and gave my baby a very brief call. I let him know about the show. I also enticed him with some dirty homecoming promises.
I noticed there was a red car parked haphazardly and still running with no one inside it. It was in front of the snack store and cashier area. I began walking in that direction to pay for my gas when I noticed a man with a gun inside holding up the attendant.
I ran to my car and called 911 on my cell as I pulled my gun. From the relative safety of my car I shot out both driver's side tires of the robber's vehicle.
Seconds later he ran outside to make his quick getaway and he got a big surprise. Nevertheless, he took off anyway. He really didn't have a choice. I got his plate number. He barely got out of the parking lot when the cops arrived and stopped him cold in his tracks on Junipero Serra.
I gotta hand it to the cops on this one. It was the quickest response I'd ever seen. Of course that was probably due to sheer luck more than anything else. Also, I think when you tell them that it's a robbery in progress, they tend to prioritize. It wasn't long before the place was crawling with them.
I stuck around to be a witness for the police report. The cops wanted to know what I was doing with a gun. I showed them my concealed carry permit and earned their instant respect.
I later got deposed for the trial and had to be a witness. The attendant said the robber nearly made off with four grand.
Vickie Rock
There was a twenty-something woman with strawberry blonde hair present at the station as well. She was from out of town and her car had broken down on the I-5. The robbery happened just after she had her car towed there for repairs. She was with the attendant discussing this when the robber, posing as a customer, arrived. She had been hiding in the service bay when the robbery was in progress.
When the cops said we could leave, she asked me if I could give her a ride to her hotel. She was a very sweet young thing from Springfield, Missouri. Her name was Charlotte and she had the cutest southern accent. She had just come to California on a shoestring to pursue her dreams in "Paradise."
She was a darling wide-eyed innocent. I sarcastically told her, "Welcome to California." She had a hotel just up the I-5 at the Oso Parkway Fairfield Inn. I drove her there but just before she got out of the car I asked her what the hell she was gonna do without a car.
She said she'd figure something out. I told her she could stay at our place till her car was done and she found a more permanent place to stay. She at first refused, but I insisted, knowing it was best for her. She checked out of the Fairfield and checked in with us hedonists. Let me just say this, she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed. But that was OK by us.
She lived with us about a half a year and she was a total joy. We lovingly nicknamed her Charlotte the Harlot. During this time frame, the trial for the robbery took place, so we rode up together. We actually hated to see her go but, after a few months at Hooters, she found a pretty good deal on a condo in Huntington Beach and a high paying job at Taco Bell corporate in Irvine. We’re still in touch every couple of months or so for dinner or drinks and sleepovers.
If I hadn't missed my off-ramp that night I would have never stumbled onto the robbery or met Charlotte. I guess nothing ever happens by accident.
Anyway, you can see why I looove my guns. They're also very elegant and sexy. And, boy, do I sure know how to use them. Been shooting since I was nine or ten. Mom and dad raised me well. Plus Honey West, April Dancer and Emma Peel inspired me.
The protagonist in the Sting song blew the first rule of gun safety. Never point a loaded gun at someone you don't intend to take down.
The song's subject matter also conjures up the images of a really bad episode of the Fugitive where a young Beau Bridges accidentally shoots a guy riding in a jeep and tries to pin the murder on Kimball. Why do I remember shit like this?
Also, in the Sting song, is the gun going off accidentally in his hand a metaphor for something else. Is that why the protagonist hung his head?:-)JK
Apologies,
Vickie Rock
The solos were pretty clearly Neil Young-influenced - which to my taste does not diminish their awesomeness in any way.
Neil's better though. Much more out of control. He takes a lot more chances and it isn't always pretty. But it's real.
The guy chain smokes songs. I once saw him and Crazy Horse do the most transcendent version of Barstool Blues ever. You just knew it was a magic performance as it unraveled. Never heard it that good before and probably never will again. It was magnificent and I was happy as hell to have been there.
Vickie Rock
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