Andrew WK, Poison, Rolling Stones

Portions of this review originally appeared in INsite magazine, September, 2006.

            Someone should remind Andrew W. K. that rock has always been about having a good time. Do it quick, before he writes another song with “fun” or “party” in the title.

            The hype machine behind this guy turned me off from the beginning.

“Ooh, he has a huge nosebleed on his album cover, and the record company censored it up with a big red sticker!” (Did the imagery hit too close to home for certain record executives?)

“All of his songs sound exactly the same! He’s like Wesley Willis with money!”

“He can’t sing! He can’t play! His band is atrocious! Let’s pretend he’s an underground sensation then put him on SNL!”

            Sign me up.  I’ve been known to stop thinking on occasion. Plus, I’ve always wondered how the collected works of Jim Steinman would sound played by the most bored-looking speed metal band on the planet.

Who Knows? is Andrew’s idea of a documentary/concert film. You get to hear Andrew talk about himself (a lot), and his mission to bring absorbing, provocative material like “Party Hard” and “Girls Own Love” to the masses. Whether or not the irony is intentional doesn’t matter: it still isn’t all that interesting. If he’d show off his piano chops more often, his music would have staying power. Even the footage of Andrew staring into camcorder in various hotel rooms is better than the musical parts.

His sound is raw yet melodic, his demeanor populist, and his audience working class. None of this would strike me as negative if his body of work didn’t sound like it took all of thirty minutes to write. He’s like a record executive’s version of Mike Patton: weird, but with no interest in evolving. Patton does something different every time he enters a studio. Andrew pretends to.

There’s a school of thought that insists if you want to rock, there isn’t much to it. Is it loud, fast, and catchy? Is it mind-numbingly simple enough to get onto corporate rock radio? Will frat boys like it? Welcome, graduates!

Rock desperately needs a new school, and Andrew W. K. desperately needs to attend. His parties would be more fun if he went in a new direction.

Not that it would matter. Poison still gets on TV. Seven Days Live covers their 1993 show at London’s Hammersmith Apollo. Like Andrew, Poison is all about the good time. Like Andrew’s music, Poison’s is aimed squarely at regular folks. Unlike Andrew, though, the guys in Poison wrote songs. It was all cheesy MTV junk, but at least they never tried to pretend they were anything more than that.

Die-hard Poison fans – the ones who own a copy of that horror movie with Bret Michaels as a serial killer – know this version of the band features Ritchie Kotzen on guitar, not C. C. DeVille. Ritchie’s a better guitar player, and the songs arguably sound a little better than they did originally.  Poison, however, was always more about personality than musicianship. Poison without C. C. is like a box of Cracker Jacks without the prize: neither are very good for you, but if you’re going that route, go the distance.

This concert shows Poison at a crossroads. They weren’t quite the same band as before, but they weren’t about to change their look or sound to fit the grunge mold. They stuck with what had worked before. Whether it works for you depends on how much you like guys who dress like girls. For the record, Bret Michaels plays harmonica fairly well…

…At least as good as Mick Jagger. Enough with the disposable stuff, already. Sexy Intellectual’s new Rolling Stones DVD, Under Review 1962-1966, covers the original Stones, in what some fans consider their greatest period. I’m more of a Sticky Fingers guy, but the footage in this film is fascinating to watch. This is the band in its rawest form, when Keith had the blues and Mick didn’t dance around so much. It’s a version of the Stones that wasn’t quite as sure of itself, a band whose great covers of Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly barely registered with the public. It wasn’t until “The Last Time” and “Satisfaction” that things really got rolling.

By honing in on the formative years of the band, this documentary makes you see what other movies couldn’t: future rock icons struggling just to have their music heard. More importantly, you get an idea of how great these guys used to be, long before ridiculous ticket prices and jokes about wheelchairs.