Attaboy Skip – Ghostbusters Theme
I don’t have many songs about ghosts. So after deciding that a Ghostface song or any song from that fucking Unicorns album would be a copout, I figured I should go with what I know.
Attaboy Skip were a band from Las Vegas, my hometown. They rolled in near the middle of that third-wave ska thing that you either love unrepentantly or still try your damnedest to forget. Largely because of this band, I was in the former camp. I’m not sure what it was: inserting non-sequitur bongo breakouts into their sets? The warm regard for their fans (the lead singer once thanked me personally and another time called me out in front of several thousand people for wearing one of their t-shirts)? Bizarre-ass covers such as this one, the Ghostbusters theme song?
Also, their drummer later went on to play for that other Vegas band, the Killers.
Michael Jackson – Thriller
Ah, ghosts. The millennia old notion of the paranormal, metaphysical spirit that haunts all of us stuck here in the physical world. They range from friendly creatures (casper comes to mind) to those that commit unspeakable (except when spoken of) acts of horror. You might think that the only justification for ghostly obsession with the living is complete and utter boredom with the netherworld. And – you’d be right. The thing is, being dead sucks. Granted, I can’t know this with certainty, but judging by the dumb ghost-y things ghosts do, and the even dumber people they choose to do them to, Hades isn’t exactly the eternal club-med some people make it out to be.
Thats why I’ve chosen the epic ghost song Thriller, by Michael Jackson (ghoulish zombie song really, ghosts are supposed to be transparent no?). In an apparent cluster-fuck of boredom, this zombie collective decides that terrorizing MJs girlfriend is a quality use of time. Moreover, if terror is to be the order of the day, they decide it should come in the form of killer dance moves that ironically, would one day revolutionize hipster (zombie) dance parties.
The confusion over MJ being a zombie or not aside, this song (and video, AND ALBUM) are absolutely awesome. If I had the time, and an old betamax, I would find old videotapes of me at 3 dancing to thriller. No matter. Find me today, and you can still see me dancing to it (and in all likelihood, in just as uncoordinated a manner).
Concrete Blonde – Ghost of a Texas Ladies Man
Lots of people report of ghost experiences. Their TV turned off without them touching it, or some dead guy transubstantiated in their mouth. But rare is the experience of ghost lovin’. For that, you’ve got to turn to the gothic underworld, or at least its radio-friendly counterpart from the early 90s, embodied by Concrete Blonde and the $20 set they constructed to tell their harrowing tale.
I’ll sum it up for you. Dark queen Johnette Napolitano is taking a shower, when she sees some weird shit in the fog on her shower. And when her towel isn’t where she remembered putting it, she deftly concludes that there is a GHOST among her. Not just any ghost, some sort of otherworldly slut ghoul that wants to peep her naked body and inject some ectoplasm into her or something. Clearly then, this is a ghost of a Texas Ladies Man. They fuck during the guitar solo, right when that sepia-toned train (Freud, much?) crashes into Johnette’s crucifix-fingers. Hot.
At least nobody picked that Indigo Girls song about being in love with your ghost…
Tag Archives: michael jackson
Present day celebrity trainwrecks wish they could aspire to the levels, the rocketing artistic heights, and even the crushing depths, that MJ takes as a matter of course. Think about it, of all those brokedown Barbie dolls that have been entertaining the tabloids these last couple of years, is there even one of them that can hold a cracktorch to the Divine Mr. J? Follow this madlibs comparison of pop star turned afterschool special vignettes and you be the judge.
The story of Britney Spears shows how early entry into show business and skyrocketing fame can later lead to emotional Britney garnered public attention and solidifed her pop star status with the release of the single and accompanying music breakdowns and public shame. Britney first gained noteriety as a member of the Mickey Mouse club. In early adulthood, video for “…Baby One More Time,” from the bestselling album of the same name. The stress of always being in the public spotlight eventually took its toll, as Britney endured relationship turmoil, emotional problems, and legal difficulties, all of which were highly publicized. Perhaps one of her lowest moments was captured on film, when Britney’s coochie was exposed for the paparazzi during one of her infamous wild nights out.
Now for MJ:
I rest my case.
As for substance abuse, Michael remains that rare celebrity who we kind of hope is doing a lot of drugs, because really, it would explain a lot. And while he undoubtedly still thinks of himself as a superhero who saved all those kids from the evil drug dealing Joe Pesci in Moonwalker, MJ does admit to his own personal battle with additiction. In fact, he dedicated the album “Blood on the Dance Floor” to Sir Elton John, for his during Michael’s struggles with painkillers. Because he suffers, oh Lord, how he suffers. From that same album, I present you with the first and last word on opiates, from the King of Pop himself, Michael Jackson.
p.s. You must listen to the bridge to fully appreciate the pathos and beauty of Michael’s experience.
Michael Jackson – Heal The World
To the readers of Iron Clef: before you take your next dose, prescription or otherwise, remember that the power to heal comes from within.