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Stevie Ray Vaughn

August 16, 2007 2:53 AM

eeing as how I have almost nothing interesting to say about myself or anything that's going on right now, either in my own life or in the world at large, I've decided to do what comes naturally: be pissed about things. The thing I'm most pissed about right now is Stevie Ray Vaughn.

Some of you might think that I, as an aspiriing guitar god, should probably love SRV. But the fact is that the man sucks balls. Although I fully admit that he was an extremely talented guitarist, he is--along with Eddie Van Halen--a perfect example of why a song should never be built around someone showing off their virtuosity. Technical ability does not a great song writer make, and SRV proves that beyond all doubt.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that I'm not the biggest blues fan to begin with. But there's stuff in the blues that's interesting, new, and that escapes the derivative nature of the whole thing. Mr. Vaughn is not one of those things. All of his songs sound the same--they start off with a drum a bass groove with, surprisingly enough, some fancy guitar work. Then the guitar dies down, Mr. Vaughn screams some completely perfunctory lyrics (something like "Well there's floodin' down in Texas"), then there's some fancy guitar fill, then some more stupid lyrics (for example, "All of the telephone lines are down"), then another guitar fill, then some more stupid lyrics ("Well there's floodin' down in Texas"), another fill, more lyrics ("All of the telephone lines are down"), and then the chorus, a solo, the second verse (which is just two lines repeated over and over), and then a longer solo. That's not a fucking song! That's just a bunch of guitar wankery with some words in between! It's bullshit, it's cheap, and it's stupid.

The greatest guitar solos ever are awesome not because they're technically impressive--some aren't difficult to play at all--but because they fit perfectly within the mood of the song. A guitar solo is a special songwriting tool. It should be used cautiously, not shoehorned into every musical arrangement. Mr. Vaughn has the whole process backwards, it seems. He starts with a solo and then builds a song around it. Ultimately, while it appeals to my inner guitar geek, it's unsatisfying to the part of that, you know, actually enjoys good music.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: wank for a reason or don't wank at all.



5 Comments


tRJ said:

I have to say that I'm not the biggest blues fan to begin with.

Well, there's your problem. The stuff you hate--the call and response, the repetitive lyrics, the musical flourishes--are blues staples. If you don't like that, you won't like SRV.

August 16, 2007 8:44 AM



Ismael Tapia II said:

Yeah, I mean I don't like the blues, but I didn't sit there and hate Mr. Vaughn because his music is blues based. I listened to it, and in fact wanted to like it because he's generally considered one of the all-time greatest guitarists. But the music is boring, undynamic, predictable, and formulaic. I could write a pop song in thirty seconds that wouldn't be original or inspired, and you'd be right to call it crap. I don't know why it's any different when the song fits into a genre other than pop.

August 16, 2007 1:02 PM



Superman said:

The problem isn't that you don't like the Blues, the problem is that you are an ignorant ass clown. Er... let me put that another way. To recognize talent, beauty, and many other subjective phenomena, society usually (for good reason) defers to those individuals who have knowledge of and or similar gifts therein to critique said. For example, we have art critics to sift through the endless morass of canvases that are created daily to interpret or report that which bears investigation. We all agree this isn't the end all, be all in what is good, but we lend a certain measure of credence to what they say, because we understand that being ignorant or ill-informed of such matters makes us equally incapable of understanding what has merit and why. We know what we like, but often that is no measure of the significance or talent inherent in a piece.

Therefore, since you do not like the Blues, don't understand, and are *certainly* not qualified to judge what is good or bad, your opinion is worth about as much as a painted turd. Now, surely you know what you like, but there are those out there with a morbid love of feces (coprophilia), so personal taste is no indicator of taste (pun intended).

An ignorant man might listen to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and hear nothing but "screeching violins" - does that mean that the Ninth is such? No. It simply means that this man's opinion is worthless as tits on a boar hog. One person might regard the collected works of Basquiat as scribblings and he is entitled to his opinion, but it should be treated like a juicy fart; keep it to *oneself*!

It's one thing to express your dislike for a certain person's music, it is quite another to make disparaging remarks such as "the man sucks balls". This only raises the ire of others and illustrates with laser precision your own abject stupidity.

The point is this, your opinion is utterly worthless and what you do by airing out in public in this manner is slap a big sign on your forehead that says, "Hey, look at me! I'm a blowhard assbag that doesn't understand music who likes to shoot his mouth off and prove to everyone that I'm as ignorant as a flatworm!" It's the same as running around and screaming at the top of your lungs that you don't believe in gravity as you fall over your shoelaces and knock out two of your buck teeth. It simply provides individuals (with a lick of sense) to opportunity to label you as an idiot and make sport of pointing out the insipidity of your opinion.

So, in the future, treat your ignorant opinions as you would a greasy fart... keep it to *yourself*. No one wants, or cares to smell it, mmmmmk?

PS Stevie's music brought and continues to bring, immeasurable joy to many people's lives. This is in sharp relief to the temporary irritation you have wrought to any unfortunate soul, unlucky enough to have read your mindless claptrap. In short, you are anal carbuncle, he was — and will always be — a giant of the music world and just a damn fine individual. It would behoove you to try to emulate his kind treatment of others, if for no other reason than keeping yourself from numerous and severe ass-beatings and public humiliations such as this one. Have a nice day!

April 19, 2008 4:08 AM



Superman said:

By the way, has anyone ever told you that you look like Jabba the Hut in a top hat? Just wondered.

April 19, 2008 4:14 AM



Ismael Tapia II said:

Jesus, where to even begin . . .

I guess let's start at the beginning, namely by addressing your assertion that I should defer to experts in areas of which I am ignorant. As I understand it, your basic point is that, while I know what I subjectively like, that doesn't mean that I know--or am even able to discern--what is objectively good.

Let's put aside the issue of whether there is such a thing as "objectively good" when it comes to things like art and music--Immanuel Kant spent a hell of a lot of time on that subject and, in the end, I'm still not convinced either way.

So, having thus sidestepped the first hurdle to our conversation, let's move on to your point. You say that "to recognize talent, beauty, and many other subjective phenomena, society usually . . . defers to those individuals who have knowledge of and or similar gifts therein to critique said." Putting aside for the moment the appalling construction of your sentence, I submit that ordinary people are perfectly qualified to recognize talent and beauty. I don't know much about art, and I'm certainly no artist myself, but I know that Michaelangelo was one hell of a talented sculptor. I don't know much about classical cello, but I recognize that Yo-Yo Ma is one hell of a talented guy. I don't know much about building guitars, but I know that a Gibson Les Paul is a beautiful thing. I don't know much about architecture, but I know that Madison's capitol dome is beautiful. I might not actually enjoy seeing David, listening to a Bach cello concerto, looking at a Les Paul, or marveling a the dome, but, even through my ignorance, I recognize the talent and beauty they contain.

Simply put, I don't need an expert to tell me who's talented and who's not, and I don't need an expert to tell me what's beautiful and what's not. And neither does anybody else. I am perfectly qualified to reach my own conclusions about the moral corectness of my choices, the degree to which my emotions should control my actions, and about whether any piece of art is worth my time. My conclusions might very well be wrong--and we could have a very heated conversation when we disagree--but I'm just as qualified as any expert to make a judgment. And so is everyone else.

So, even assuming that experts--and here I must interject that we have to wonder what sorts of experts we're talking about: experts on music, experts on popular music, experts on blues, experts on guitar-based music, experts on the music of Stevie Ray Vaughn--praise Mr. Vaughn, I see no reason why I should take their word as gospel, or even give it any greater weight than I would give your opinion, for example.

You also criticize me for "mak[ing] disparaging remarks" about people, claiming that doing so demonstrates my "abject stupidity." I find this extremely enlightening with respect to your own mental ability, especially given your second comment.

The rest of your comment seems to be about how I should keep my opinion to myself because no one wants to read it. That would be a fair thing to say if I was, for example, sitting on your lawn ranting through a loudspeaker pointed directly at your living room. In that instance, you would be perfectly justified in telling me to keep my opinion to myself because it would be rather difficult for you to avoid listening to what I thought. But I'm not on your lawn. And I don't have a loudspeaker. I have a blog. And you weren't compelled to read it--at least I hope you weren't because if you were, you're probably being held captive somewhere. If that's the case, I wish you the best of luck in your escape.

In any event, I'll post whatever the fuck I want on my blog, and you can post whatever the fuck you want on yours. Hell, I'll even do you one better: you're perfectly welcome to come onto my blog and call me stupid and fat. But what you're not allowed to tell me is to keep my opinion to myself when you went through the trouble of searching for something that lead you to my blog, clicking on the link, reading my entry, and then leaving a rather lengthy comment in which you expressed myriad shitty opinions (pun intended).

April 21, 2008 1:01 AM



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