The Slow Castration of What Used to Be Rock

Submission by Tom Edwards

The first subtle snip of castration occurred in 1978 when the Who's Keith Moon croaked after taking a handful of sedatives to keep him from drinking 3 gallons of Scotch a day. The damning second snip occurred somewhere in the middle of a Peter Frampton vox box solo in the 70's and mainstream rock's last hair follicle fell off when Led Zeppelin's John Bonham downed 17 vodkas in an hour and choked on his own vomit in 1980.

With that being said, it's time to look forward to a new progression of rock. I am looking to form a rock n' roll band to generate revenue for my bank account. The band's name will be "Hip-o-Kondriakzz"-"hip" as in funky fresh, and "kondriakzz" as in this is silly sick. I lack several critical elements, however. The following is a list of personnel that I need to fill out this rock juggernaut...

Wanted: Lead Singer

A high-energy lead singer that can perform "hands-free" with just a microphone. Gratuitous crotch grabbing is a definite plus. Holding the mic with both hands in a clutch as you stew in your own juices while in the fetal position-a requirement. Candidate must be in it for the boobs and skirts. A guitar is not a requisite for this position. Applicant need apply only if they have any past of alleged parental emotional neglect or getting stuffed in a high school locker. Must have a "the-world-owes-me" bitterness. Desire a person with a tuft of peach fuzz on their chin, can give a brooding, crazy-boy look on command, and wear a baseball cap that has no direct affiliation with any sports team on this planet (correct improper wearing of the cap is a necessity, of course). Singer need not have vocal skills, songwriting ability, or ability to play or even hold any instrument. Needs to be able to hold a pose, however, in well orchestrated publicity shots. Must be able to use words like "killer", "y'all", and "phat" in a sentence. Boastful posturing about drug and alcohol abuse a big plus. Over inflated ego with overtones of misogyny an absolute perquisite. Opening in their calendar for "Where Are They Now?" in a few months advisable. Must be able to master the art of the cool pout, the dumb grumble, and the frenzied, crazy-face. Pants can only be worn over 75 percent of your butt cheeks and shoes must look absolutely ridiculous. No shoe laces please. Confused, angry, overweight white male from an upper middle class home is perfect for the gig. Must have soft spot for the ladies-or "bitches" as they like to call them in the industry-especially the pretty ones. Must be willing to change stage name to "Malizzious" and able to withstand an extension of high school years when people that know better call you "The Dork".

Motto/Credo: Get the %$#@ outta my face.

Wanted: Lead Guitarist

Must exude willingness to work with 57 songwriters, 9 media directors, 6 art directors, Carson Daly from TRL, every executive from MTV, and 4023 publicists to craft media that meets the need of our McDonalds demographic. Studio experience not required. Knowledge of past rock n' roll-ditto. Willingness to "borrow liberally"(steal) from other artists a must. Posing with the guitar, jumping up and down like you're on a pogo stick, and being able to work closely with a turntable DJ are prerequisites. Must be adolescent looking and be able to grimace like every note tears out a section of your lower intestine. Looking for candidate who can really grind the notes like your hands are conduits from the Gods of the Heavy. Skilled playing is not necessary, no solos-please, power chords only, "chunga-chunga-chunga-chunga-chung-chung-chung" playing style. Many songs will be comprised of tape loops from popular songs from the early 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's so playing is not really necessary. Will craft guitar sound after the 6 bands already in exclusive, solitary rotation on radio stations-which are all owned by 3 media conglomerates that will also own us. Must be flexible to change name to "Unbalanzzd" and get tattoos on calves that say eft-Le and ight-Re-Pig Latin for left and right. Hair color-fuschia: skin color-pasty.

Motto: Get the %$#* outta my face.

Wanted: Bass Player

Dreadlocks, please. Want candidate who is positively freaky and able to thud out the same atonal note in synthesis with the drummer's over-miked bass drum. Must be the darkest member of the band. Must have stints in several rehab clinics for sniffing Scotch Guard. Must have a "scarred" persona. Must hold bass like it weighs 300 pounds down by your chukka boots to prove that what you slap-out is really heavy-so heavy a human can hardly hold it off the surface of the earth. Looking for a camera-shy individual who likes to act whacked out in music videos. Introverted, brooding, sullen, Cro-Magnon, misunderstood, deep and disturbed should be your calling cards. Must be willing to take "leftover" women previously violated by lead singer on his own swanked out pimp tour bus. Experience with paternity suits is a necessary. Must claim to be the straight-edged member of the band. Must be willing to change stage name to "Defunkt". VH1 A "Behind the Music" reunites with lead singer a definite possibility, bankruptcy a certainty.

MOTTO: . . . . .(dull stare of a dairy cow).

Wanted: Drummer

The technician of the band. Must have a 172 piece drum set that includes splash cymbals as big as silver dollars and toms as big as Parkay margarine cups. Needs to be able to roll out double bass hits that accentuate the hyperactive monolithic thud of bass player. Must wear fingerless gloves while you play and wear shorts that oddly enough come down to your ankles. Weight: 94 lbs. Strong background in being a spaz. The ability to stick your tongue out, howl, and say you're totally messed up after your second wine cooler a definite selling point. Must have aspirations for side projects that have about as much chance of getting off the ground as the bass player's head after a long night of drinking Quaker State antifreeze in the Playboy Mansion garage. Likes to play the crowd and loves the 19 minute drum solo with skins that sound like coffee cans filled with helium. Must be willing to change stage name to "Ritalinzz".

MOTTO: "Musically, I think we can pretty much go in any direction . . .which is cool".

After the personnel is in place, along with a DJ and 36 band extras, it's time for a blur of soundstages, 14 year olds, phat beats, and champagne vomit . . . and a chart topping single called "Middle Class Misery"-or we may just re-do a song by Jermaine Jackson. Will you join me Malizzious, Unbalanzzed, Defunkt, and Ritalinzz? World- get ready for Hip-o-Kondriakzz-the freshest wart on the overfed, fat ass hanging off of the body of commercial "rock" radio.