Exactly What we Don’t Want To Hear

Posted: April 18, 2013 in Body Count, Fuck You Friday, Music nobody listens to


Fuck it all anyway.

Scott Miller died.  At 53.  Fuck.

I have had the good fortune to see him perform with his bands three times.  I loved his music; it was complex at the same time it traveled the power pop continuum.  He loved tricky guitar parts — here is a recording of Aimee Mann covering one of his songs and complaining that it “has, like, a zillion chords”.

Here they are as Loud Family playing Idiot Son in Milwaukee.  Yes, I was there, of course I was.

Maybe I saw them twice as Game Theory.  I remember seeing GT at The Odd Rock Cafe, the two women in the band were wearing SoCal style halter tops, and were quite chilly in the Wisconsin weather.

Goddammit, this has been a fuck of a week, hasn’t it?  Right up the fucking poop chute.  Fuck you, Universe.

here’s a more introspective song:

The brilliantly pun-named Cortex The Killer (Days for Days is an unrecognized work of genius)

In recent years, Scott had pretty much retired musically, he was working as a programmer and wrote a book.  Word is he was looking at going back in the studio though; missed opportunities fuck YOU Universe.

I dearly hope this song was not prophetic:

I am meeting Zelmo for drinks after work.  UnHappy Hour.  Overserved is in the eye of the beerholder.

Seriously.  That’s fucking enough for one week, don’t you think?

Let’s let Scott have the last word, shall we?

Let’s let Scott have the Last Last Word.  The Loud Family website has made the Out of Print albums available for download.

  1. O shit I forgot one of my favorite favorite favorite songs:

  2. I guess Death of Musician posts are not popular.

    Expect more.

  3. Thirsty Thursday is starting soon here as well.

  4. mikey says:

    Frankly, I prefer dead dictator posts. When they hung the Ceaușescus from the lamp posts? Hella good times. Butt stabbing ol’ crazy Kaddahfi? Rockin n rollin. That time when Saddam’s head came off? Hilarious shit. Musharraf running for his life from the cops this morning? Priceless.

    Let’s do more of that shit instead…

    • Gosh, if only you had your own goddam blog to write about what you’d like better….

    • Look, mikey, I know you feel all out of sorts that the Giants dropped three to the crappy old Brewers. But here we are talking about the death of a San Francisco musician who actually MATTERED, enough to register on the crappy old screens of a midwestern zombie. Sports are ephemeral; music is eternal.

      I am mostly drunk, now, after talking with Zelmo at a punk club through happy hour. A fair amount of rum, and some shared tequila, and we parted as friends, as usual.

      As far as the shit going on here, I want to re-focus on the work of Scott Miller. He deserves it, even if you don’t care for it. I am listening to it now, I will get drunker listening to it, I will fall asleep listening to it, and will wake up with it.

      I will miss him tomorrow. I will miss him later in the year, and I will miss him while baseball teams play out the World Series in the fall.

      And although mostly I am happy with comment threads that ramble hither and yon, if you really feel like talking about the shit you bring up, you might recall you actually have your own whole blog where you can do so….

  5. mikey says:

    Hey, man, you can always ban me if you don’t like what I bring. I don’t know who the dood is, and in my world I talk to my friends about the shit that’s going on in my world, just as you do. Make some rules, I’ll try to follow ’em. Other than that, it’s just a conversation.

    Cheers, mi amigo…

  6. mikey says:

    Tell y’what. I’ll just assume I’m banned for breaking the unwritten rules.

    Sorry I pissed on your pity party, buddy…

  7. Can I be banned too? I’m feeling left out.

  8. It has been a shitbag of a week.

Go ahead, tell me how I fucked up this time.

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