For me it ended with three words: Ugly Kid Joe. It was like the terrified record companies just screamed "Wait, wait, is THIS what you want? Look, they're like hair metal, and grunge, and like, glam… or something. This is cool, right, RIGHT? Please, don't leave us, pleeeeeeease! I just ordered a kilo of blow!…

Yeah, that was a bit of a rub the back of the neck, stare at the floor, "Yeeeeaaaah, uh…" inducer from me, too.

That guy should get a medal for finishing a set in a wetsuit without passing out. The temperature in that thing under the lights must have been insane.

I'll definitely check this out. I must say, one of my life's biggest NON-regrets was dragging my indifferent wife to see the Big Star "reunion" show (w/two-thirds of the Posies, but I'll take it) at the Fillmore in San Fran.

If you want to dig a bit deeper into the Memphis power pop scene, Tommy Hoehn was contemporary of Chilton and Bell who put out some awesome Big Star-ish singles. He sounds a lot like Chilton, in fact, but is way more over-the-top on the glam side—think Sweet meets #1 Record.

Have you listened to much Big Star? I can understand that one might not like the band, but I have trouble understanding how bland could be the reason. There's passion, great songwriting, hooks, cathartic weirdness—bland they ain't.

Also, the soundtrack to this film is fantastic. Best Halloween music ever.

So I did! And I stand by my words… whatever the fuck I was talking about.

So are you saying you wouldn't want to hear Whale’s “Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe” every shift? Because that song is fucking awesome.

Also wonderful: Les Claypool has a winery in Sebastopol in NorCal. The tasting room is a converted train car. The wine's great and he actually shows up from time to time. The moral: All that Les Claypool touches is awesome. All hail Claypool!

"The Fall of Because" FTW. I have a Killing Joke EP that has a live version on the flip side. Holy mother of god is that intense.

Sweet Hitchhiker WTF. Or more accurately, Sweet Hitcha-Hikah.

Yeah, that scene—especially the you've-got-to-be-kidding-me flashback to the wedding—was like getting kicked in the nuts it was so bad.

And they can fly. And they do. Oh yes, they do.

Yeah, if a car sucks so much that it can wipe a 100-year-old brand off the face of the earth, that's saying something.

The Byrds' Greatest Hits. First album I remember hearing, probably 1969-1970. Loved it then, love it now, and I still listen to The Byrds all the time. I mean, like once a day.

The closest thing we have to a foreign country in The U.S.? That would be Miami. Try and speak English there. I dare you. There are elementary schools named after Nicaraguan poets and streets named after third-world dictators.

Baby, I'm a hungry. Baby, I'm a sandwich.

What? Mr. Jaws was awesome. What could be better than a Howard Cosell impersonator talking to Jaws? Jaws responding in snippets from awful pop songs, perhaps?

That did always sound like a very suspect name to me. I assumed his sidekick must be Handy Jobs or something of that ilk.