If Its Too Loud, You're Too Old (and more snide things about Gwyneth Paltrow)

I have terrible hearing trouble. I have unwittingly helped to invent and refine a type of music that makes its principal proponents deaf.
--Pete Townshend

By any stretch, most of us who haven't been exploded or imprisoned weathered a pretty awful week. When can you think of a worse one? You know, other than the week of 9/11 or Pearl Harbor or the premiere of Jack Reacher?

Two Chechnyan terrorists managed to turn Boston into some sort of latter-day end of Bonnie and Clyde. That's right, Chechnyan. A Russian "separatist republic." What the hell? What's next, Shining Path guerrillas wreaking havoc in South Dakota? Then West, Texas, home of the greatest kolaches anywhere, suffers an fertilizer plant explosion and loses maybe a dozen residents. Everyone in that small town would have known all the victims, or had some close connection to them.

Then there were the Colorado pot smokers. Sounds like some sort of Reefer Madness movie title. A bunch of Venice Beach-types all got together on 4/20 to celebrate, i.e. do what they do every day except on 4/20, and take their "special medicine." Then, shockingly, someone pulls a gun and starts firing. Gee, who'd have thought having a bunch of drugs in one place might attract guns? Staggering. I guess we just can't have nice things, can we?

Closer to home, our intrepid Travis County District Attorney, upholder of public safety and order, pulled off her own spectacular DWI arrest, replete with Gary Busey-like mug shot, open vodka bottle riding shotgun in the passenger seat, and drunken shouts demanding to see her buddy the sheriff while being processed in central lockup. Undaunted, of course, she's refusing to resign because, you know, the public elected her and we deserve to her serve out her full term. Or some Anthony Weiner-esque tripe like that. Anyway, Rosemary's gonna be doing that from jail for the next 45 days. That, my friends, is Keeping Austin Weird.  Its bad enough to have a couple of glasses of wine at happy hour and blow a 0.09, just barely above the limit. But driving when you're at 0.239, honey, Courtney Love thinks that's a little reckless.

Then we have a little community to our north, a bastion of good, God-fearing Christian values, known for dealing harshly with criminals. And other, you know, "undesirables." Unfortunately, the long-time leader of this charge, Williamson County's former district attorney, now its criminal district judge, found himself under arrest for, basically, railroading an innocent man on to death row through multiple civil rights violations. They're not only tough on criminals in Williamson County, they're tough on non-criminals as well.

And as if that wasn't all bad enough, jack-booted thug cops arrested America's Sweetheart, Reese Witherspoon. But, she's so cute and wholesome! And got Ali Larter totally off for killing her husband in Legally Blonde. Why did we have to arrest her? She should have known things weren't going too well when, as the police were initially just arresting her husband for DWI she had to go to the "do you know who I am" card. Look, famous people. Its like this. If you have to ask someone if they know who you are, you're probably not as famous as you think you are. You know who uses that line? The Kathy Griffins of the world. Or, the cop knows exactly who you are and doesn't care. Or, as in this case, the cop hilariously said, "I don't need to know who you are." You know, I get all you non-equals getting busted for DWI. You work at your McJob for wages that just exceed the average Korean factory worker's weekly income. You look forward to your weekly happy hour at Applebee's with the fellas, before you go home to your prematurely dilapidated 3 bedroom 2 bath pre-fab house with its four shouting kids and your boring bloated spouse. You go for the third beer, when the guys question your manhood as you try to stop after two Coors Lights. You already can barely afford to buy the generic Twinkies for the kids, so cab fare seems like an unobtainable luxury. And you sure don't want any of those douches from work taking you home. I get that. But why can't someone earning an NBA paycheck, or living off fat Hollywood royalties, call a cab? That doesn't make any sense.

So after a week like this, I'm hardly in the mood to meticulously analyze anything. Not even how the more elegant Top Gun scenes represent the national pathos.

It came down to two posting choices. Make fun of Gwyneth Paltrow, or list the songs I absolutely crank up to 11 whenever they come on the radio.

Making fun of Gwyneth Paltrow...its kind of like making fun of the Special Olympics. She's so pathetic that making fun of her only makes her seem sympathetic. And what would you have to do other than just repeat what she actually says? Gems like

"Beyonce is the most talented human being on the planet."

or

"We have great dinner parties at which everyone sits around talking about politics, history, art and literature---all this peppered with really funny jokes. But back in America, I was at a party and a girl looked at me and said, 'Oh, my God! Are those Juicy jeans that you're wearing?' and I thought, I can't stay here. I have to get back to Europe."

Her website, Goop, the purpose of which escapes me, would make Jacqueline Onassis feel like trailer trash. I'm not really sure, but I think she's hoping to help those she deems worthy deal with important subjects, like the best place to find politically correct tofu in London. And she sells "clothes," like a $45 child's bikini. Excuse me. "New York Bikini." Huge diff. Only some riff raff like me would confuse the two. The audience presumably includes the 15-20 people on the planet Gwynnie deems acceptable and who also have internet access (I thought she might find Brazilian rain forest tribes acceptable, but...the unkempt hair and everything probably keeps them off the list as well). Basically Beyoncé (obvi!), her crew, the Beckhams...the Obamas, I would think. Madonna. You know. People who haven't stood in a line for the last 10 years.

So, like I said, easy.

Looking on for something uplifting, how about songs to crank up in your car when they come on the radio? Yeah, you know, up to 11. I know. Where did that come from? Something about speed and loud tunes can really take the edge off. Enjoying that rush when the song comes on and you haven't heard it in a million years and it instantly transports you back to some better day. A better day back when Reese Witherspoon didn't yet have a mug shot. Thought it would be just light enough to help ease some of you out of last week.

Now what you might want to turn up to 11 probably differs from what I do. Some of you would list a bunch of Britney Spears, Mariah Carey, and Shakira songs. Though I'm not sure why you'd have made it this deep on this post. Others would be a total hip hop playlist. You may like big butts and cannot lie, but that's not me.

No, most of us are predisposed to liking the kind of music that was popular, or to which they listened, when they were in their teens. You can thank that fact, and the Baby Boom, for the fact that radio stations will still be playing the Eagles and Fleetwood Mac for the next 30 years. And as a somewhat unlikely Boomer myself, I'm inevitably drawn to that musical era. Though I have some standards. Supertramp is right out.

Therefore, here's my songs that demand turning those amps up to 11. Turn 'em up. They're all rockers. Rock and roll has a lot of horrible qualities, but at its best it embodies feelings and contradictions one just can't put into words (Pete Townshend said something along those lines once, so its gotta be true). True, these have all been played millions of times, and you might be sick of them. But they were played so often because they rose above the other dreck. Satisfaction will have the same power hundreds of years from now. These songs largely come from or evoke the 1960s, back before the Rock God, back when making hit music and artistry weren't incompatible. And, I have to concede, make up the White Middle Age Man soundtrack. At least the ones not listening to Rick James. They can curse us all they want, but they can't take away our tuneage. Though I doubt they want it. Get all mindless. And forget last week.

Beatles: Twist and Shout. They didn't even write it. Best Beatles studio performance ever. Not their best song, but their best performance.

Led Zeppelin: You could list about half their catalog. But I'll limit it to three. Black Dog, Whole Lotta Love, and Misty Mountain Hop. "Hey boy do you want score?"

Rolling Stones. The World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band. Again, dozens of songs could make the cut. How about Satisfaction and Jumping Jack Flash? Billy Blazejowski approves.

Cream: Sunshine of Your Love. Clapton denies it, but this is the song, and the band, that started heavy metal. It was reputedly Hendrix's favorite song.

Aerosmith: Sweet Emotion. The first song in Dazed and Confused. Midnight Special mid-70s "armadillos in our trousers" peacocking at its finest.

Ramones: Rock and Roll High School. I wouldn't have needed a GED if I'd gone there.

Jimi Hendrix. Purple Haze. 'Scuse me, while I kiss this guy. What?

Nirvana. Smells Like Teen Spirit. The song that singlehandedly killed off Hair Bands. For which we should all be eternally grateful.

Foghat: Slow Ride. Yes, you read that right. And I'm not embarrassed either. I just picture that last scene in Dazed and Confused, as they head out Highway 290 to Houston to get Aerosmith tickets. I was like those kids once. Without all the pot, of course. Because its bad for your health. In fact, I've made that same drive about a million times. I have a theory that Linklater didn't script any of Matthew McConaughey's scenes in Dazed and Confused. Instead, he just put McConaughey in costume and followed him around with a camera and mike, filming McConaughey's normal daily routine.  "That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age. Yes they do."

Kinks: You Really Got Me. The first song featuring heavy guitar feedback. Overlooked lyrics that nearly match Dave Davies' guitar. "You got me so I don't know what I'm doing." A gutpunch.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse: Hey Hey, My My. Rock and roll can never die. You know it.

The Pretenders: Tattooed Love Boys. Third coolest rock chick ever.

Joan Jett: Bad Reputation. Here, with Foo Fighters. Second coolest rock chick ever.

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama. The Alabama National Anthem. Purposely listed after Mr. Young. "Turn it up!"

The Creation: Making Time. That song from Rushmore. Notice people dancing in the video? Believe it or not, people danced to rock and roll in the 60s. Go figure.

Bob Dylan: Like A Rolling Stone. Another song with a dramatic introduction. Often called the greatest rock song of all time (along with Satisfaction).

Small Faces: Afterglow (Of Your Love). Steve Marriott had one of rock's great voices, and this was a Mod anthem.

The Who: My Generation. Hope I die before I get old.

The Kingsmen: Louie Louie. If your rock and roll band can't play this, it pretty much sucks.

The Easybeats: Friday on My Mind. Australia's coolest band. Sorry Midnight Oil.

The Animals: We Gotta Get Out of This Place. I love how all the Animals' hits started off with a really dramatic introductory riff. Sort of like announcing your presence with authority.

Creedence: Fortunate Son. The universal anti-war song.

Elvis: you could list about half his catalog too. But how about One Night With You? Powerful.

And I'm spent. Enjoy.