A Bitter Little Pill

I really like Alanis, but for different reasons than most. While the millions who bought Jagged Little Pill thought it was -- here we go again -- alternative, I merely thought it was brilliant. You got yer angry chyck. You got yer Flea. (gasp) Did she say, "Fuck?" Right on! What gives it all that gooey pop nougat? Glen Ballard. As Ricky Skaggs once said of Elvis Costello, "I think he's a genius when it comes to music." To that genius list, let me add Glen. With producer credits like - surprise! - Paula Abdul and - you'll never guess - Wilson Phillips, there's no one better than Glen to consistently provide the star maker machinery with a popular song. As someone who - wink, wink, nudge, nudge - helped out just a teeny bit with Jagged Little Pill, he's crafted much more than Liz Phair lite. Glen Ballard has made a Taylor Dayne for the New Rock(tm) crowd. But, I'm sure for some that's a little hard to swallow.

Montrachet

The other night I got to drink a glass of a bottle of $250 wine. No, I didn't sacrifice my collector scum 7 inches for a fix Robert Parker style. I didn't pay for it. It was a work thing and I was in the right place at the right time. Anyway, I got to drink a glass of 1990 Montrachet. Don't ask me anything else about the wine. All I know is the name, and that it was the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. It was like the french kiss I got from Ginger Campbell in the 7th grade. It was like the hot plate mac and cheese my roomie and I ate after smoking Thai stick in our freshman dorm room. It was all those things that you've ever ingested at the perfect moment. Everything that has ever hit the spot.

My first wine experience happened when I sampled a lovely Boone's Farm Tickle Pink -- Vintage March 1981, I believe -- on a backroad next to the Greenup Dam. And from that point I've progressed to perusing the Wine Spectator while waiting to pay for my sixer of Sam Adams at Juneau Liquor. My only goal was to keep from getting ripped off when asked to, "bring a bottle of wine." I'm certain that I didn't appreciate it at the same level as others I was drinking it with. But I enjoyed it. I can't put it into terms like "a hint of oak with cinnamon and nutmeg and honeysuckle on the finish." I can only say that it was as good as most handjobs I've gotten and far better than Trainspotting.

Supercalifragilistic

Why the long face? Fame getting to you? Slim pickin's on field jackets at the Goodwill? Try The Supersuckers. They don't have a new record out, but with all the crap that's out there, you need something good to spend that disposable income on. Something with meat, yet...somehow frivolous. Maybe a hint of oak with dual humbuckers and feedback on the finish. Go back to The Smoke of Hell. The Supersuckers are the perfect rock stars who aren't rock stars. And come to think of it, why AREN'T they rocks stars? They knew who had the cocaine. (Ron.) Who liked the tasty greens. (Satan.) And what happened after they say, "Fuck." (We say, "Yeah.") Is there really anything else on the rock star test?

There's no room for a frown in The Supersucker's world. There's far too many muscle cars and girls to occupy their time not to mention keeping a close eye out for the MAN. So, buy Smoke of Hell. It's a reminder that some people take themselves way too seriously and spent too much time alone in their room as a kid.

jack@smug.com

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