Sunday, November 22, 2009

Fact or Fiction?

Steve Perry really is "King of the World."

Fact. Leonardo DiCaprio may have uttered those famous words on board the Titanic, but it's Steve Perry to whom they actually apply. Steve does, in fact, have a Certificate of Monarchy signed by every world leader. For the most part, he lets the leader of each country make his or her own decisions, but is consulted on issues that cannot be easily resolved. He is also the official umpire for the World Leader World Series, which China has won for the past five years. Another interesting tidbit: James Cameron had to get Steve's permission to use the phrase "King of the World" in Titanic.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Crotch Shot of the Day!

Oy vey. It's been one of those hectic weeks, where I've been running on stress and adrenaline, and now that it's over, I sure could relax with a healthy dose of some peni--I mean, hey! It's been awhile since we've had a Crotch Shot of the Day and I think I should rectify that!

Ah, Steve and Sherrie Swafford in happier times. Even though Steve wants you to think that his cringing is related to the dish he is cooking, it's really because of the ungodly pressure those ball breakers are putting on his family jewels. Whenever I see a picture of him sporting a pair of slacks that even Barbie wouldn't be able to fit into, I wonder how he manages to do things like sit, bend over and dance. I mean, in this picture, he can't even stand up straight! And note the uncomfortable/scared look on Sherrie's face--perhaps she's afraid of the beast in Steve's pants? I mean, she's a tiny girl. I'm just saying.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Not-So-Great Cover of Don't Stop Believin'

Okay, so I couldn't resist following up the previous post with a horrifically bad cover of "Don't Stop Believin'." I realize I might be opening myself up to harsh criticism by talking shit about this particular version; for some inexplicable reason, people frigging love Rock of Ages and I'm ready for the backlash. However, that won't stop me--this cover SUCKS. The first time I heard it, I wanted to throttle the entire cast and then I wanted Journey and Steve Perry to unite just briefly to throttle it again. I don't care if the characters are supposed to sing like they're tone-deaf; that's still no excuse for butchering the song. Geez, I think I'd rather hear nails scraping against a chalkboard for ten straight minutes than this big pile of poop.

Edit: I just watched it again. It's like a trainwreck I can't stop watching. What is up with that blonde, big-haired guy and his incoherent rambling, or scatting or whatever the hell it was? Can I single him out for an extra punch in the face? Good grief.

Great Cover of Don't Stop Believin'

"Don't Stop Believin'" is, without a doubt, my favorite Journey song, and despite the fact that it's gotten more play than a man whore, I'm still not tired of it. I love listening to the original version, of course, but I also like the (good) covers that have popped up as well (hello, Glee anyone?). Apparently I'm a little slow on the uptake, because I just now found out about Sam Tsui's cover of the song (via InStyle, of all things) that has gotten near to three million hits on YouTube. He sings five-part harmony in his cover of Glee's cover of Don't Stop Believin'. I'll wait a moment until you wrap your brain around that...Got it yet? Nope? Still need a little more time? Well, okay then...Good now? Yes. Alrighty then. Let's proceed to the video, shall we?

Edit: I'm not sure how the video looks on your browser, but on mine, it cuts off the fifth Sam. Trust me, it's five-part harmony; if you go to YouTube and watch it you'll see all five Sams.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Steve Perry is a Smug Bastard

Of course, I mean that in the best way possible. But come on, look that face: those lips, pursed so matter-of-factly, the "I'm King of the World" posture, those dark eyes sizing up the audience--his whole persona screams, "I'm a badass. You're not. Gotta problem with
that?" On any other dude, this cockiness would just scream for an ass-beating, but on Steve Perry, it's simply a statement of truth. Steve is indeed a badass. No, I don't have a problem with that. You do have a problem with that? Well then, you're the asshole.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Seen and Heard

Location: The Improv Comedy Club in good ol' Tampa, FL

Heard: "Escape"

Thursday night. Ladies night. Actually, I'm pretty sure The Improv didn't have any drink specials going on, but I was there with my ladies nonetheless, knocking back the booze like it was going out of style (Bonus: my drink came in a souvenir glass--boo ya!). There were four of us altogether; three of us had birthdays in October, and the one who didn't bought the tickets so we could all celebrate. Anywho, we were waiting for The Untamed Shrews show (which, by the way, was very funny; very naughty but very funny) to begin, and I guess to make the wait less painful, The Improv had music pumping softly through the house speakers (although how any sort of wait could be considered painful with the presence of alcohol is beyond me). The music that was being played was the sort of run-of-the-mill crap you'd expect: Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, John Mellencamp, blah blah blah. And then my ears, which are fine-tuned to pick up anything Journey-related, caught the unmistakable melody of "Escape." Excited to be out on the town with my friends, excited to be drinking, and excited to hear one of Journey's lesser-played songs out in public, I exclaimed, "Hey! They're playing Journey!" I was met with a chorus of polite sentiments like, "Oh, that's cool," but I could tell they didn't give two shits. But they're good friends. They understand my, um, healthy appreciation of Journey, and they were nice enough to pretend like they cared. And I can drink to that.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Steve Perry's Diet

Any fan of Steve Perry's will at some point find their mind wandering about what he does on a daily basis: what does he eat? When does he sleep? Does he like his food touching? How does he make love? Is that marvelous man-hair really genetic or does he use something special on it?

Okay, first thing's first: if you've read this blog--at all--and are still wondering about why his man-hair is so gorgeous, just save yourself some embarrassment and leave now. Steve Perry's man-hair looks like it does because he's Steve Perry, alright? There's nothing you, or I, or Paul Mitchell can do to make our hair sparkle with just a fraction of the radiance of Steve Perry's. It is what it is. Deal with it.

However, I can shine some light on Perry's diet. Quite simply, Steve Perry eats whatever the hell he wants. His genetics (him being Portuguese and Steve Perry) are such that they practically make him a god here on Earth. He always sports a natural sun-kissed tan, even in winter; as mentioned before his man-hair is incomparable; his teeth are always white; and his physique is already perfect. Unlike the rest of us mere mortals, Steve doesn't have to worry about things such as transfats and bad cholesterol--they have absolutely no effect on him whatsoever. In fact, he could chow down on nothing but Country Crock, Crisco and powdered sugar and his body would still have no fat and perfect muscle tone.

Bet this bit o' info makes you want to kill yourself, don't it? I know, I know. Me too. It's almost not fair. Steve gets to enjoy the nectar of the gods (i.e. all the junk food ever invented ever) and the rest of us have to moan, groan and sweat our asses off on the treadmill if we so much as look at a doughnut. But, like Steve's man-hair, it is what it is. We just have to deal with it and continue to count our calories.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Put Up or Shut Up: An Open Letter to Steve Perry

Just like the rest of us, my very cool reader, Ohthatdeb, loves her some Steve Perry. She loves it all: the PIOs, the glorious man-hair, the sensuality and general awesomeness, the bad-assery, his voice--for the most part, Steve can do no wrong. Except in one area. It's gotten to the point where she's pretty much said, "Enough of this bullshit. I can stay silent no longer," and decided to address Steve via an open letter.

Below is the letter for your reading pleasure (Hey, I'm a poet and didn't know it! I can make a rhyme any time! I--okay, okay, I'll shut up). I'm sure you'll agree, no?

(Note: Ohthatdeb has since made a few edits to the letter, so if you want to read the final FINAL version, please visit her website, Sub-urbane, here. She also has tons of other cool write-ups, so check it out, sit a spell, and leave her a comment or two. Or ten. Just show her some love, k?)


Hey, Steve Perry!

Yeah, I'm talking to YOU, buster.

Listen, I've been doing some checking and you seem like a decent sort:




Steve Perry, Notorious Goofball

and from my personal "I'm married, not dead" perspective, nummy like massa sovada:

SP_happy_crinklesCrinkles! Those are the eyes of a man who knows how to laugh!

(I’ll assume that you are also a magnificent human mess, just like everyone elsebut we'll stick with warm, goofy and nummy for now.)

So this is gonna hurt but baby, we need to talk.

OK, fine: I need to talk. You need to listen. Stay with me here...

For a very long time you recorded and toured and ran yourself ragged...

SP_CS_OMG SP_CS_Ultimate Steve Perry Picture #31 Steve Perry Picture #03

And that made a lot of people really happy. But it wasn't making YOU happy (which I guess is sort of important) and you were fried:


So you retired.

And then... you came back! Sweet!

SP_Damn_Baby_You_Fine And might I add: Damn!

Aaaaand... then some other crap happened soooooo... you retired again.

But ok, that whole thing sucked, I can understand why you'd throw up your hands. And maybe at some point you'll want to record something elseyou, I'm saying. Screw those other guys.

I'm being very nonchalant about this, you notice. We’re cool.

Here's what's NOT cool. Every once in a while, someone says something about you writing new music. New music in 2008! New music in 2009! Oh, now wait... new music in 2010! And who keeps saying these things? Hmmm... let's see... well, among others, YOU do! For YEARS you've been saying this: I'm writing again, I've got some sketches, I go into the studio every once in a while, I've been thinking about it, I can't decide, I think I'll think about thinking about it...

Stephen. My friend. I have to assume that you DO know what your voice means, to so many people. The reaction is not “Oh. That’s nice.” It's emotional. It's visceral. It's sexual.

It's medical! Studies prove that only the very strongest opioids trigger the same endorphine release as listening to Still They Ride live at Budokan, 1983. (Which was, incidentally, named the "Best Vocal Performance of Anything Ever" at a recent UN General Assembly plenary session on Music for Peace and Development.)

But, see... the maddening thing is that you DO sing... anyone with reasonable skill at internet research knows THAT... you're just not sharing, dammit! There you are, storing up for yourself this treasure upon the earth, and every once in a while saying that you're thinking about singing for us again. And then, you know, NOT singing for us. I gotta call bullsh*t on that.

As a matter of fact, I gotta call something else. If I had an attribute that made men melt and swoon (or whatever you guys do... what, howl and hit each other?) Anyway, if I kept saying "Mmmmm, yeah, I've been thinking about sharing this attribute... maybe..." and then when it came right down to it, kept NOT sharing it? Guess what they would call me. Go on, guess. You already know the answer, but I'll say it in good old Anglo Saxon. They would call me a c*ck tease.

Now, I don't know what the male equivalent would be but, with all due respect sir, you are one. Why do I say this? Because you know all about it. I find it hard to believe that you've never Googled yourself, or perused the comments on the squillion YouTube videos of you... you know, the ones covered in virtual lipstick kisses (and/or drool)? Steve, these women... they’re serious. They are in love. And you're toying with their affections.

Even the guys want you back—this is from a recent article on Cherrybomb:

"Is it just Cherrybomb’s obsession with one of the greatest bands of the 80’s, or does Steve Perry not understand his importance in the world of rock and roll? I’m completely f*cking baffled by Perry’s ability to resist his own greatness."

Every time you drop a hint we get all worked up. And I'll be honest -- it almost seems like you're having fun. Example: one of the Q&As on Fan Asylum asked whether you were ever going to release Always (w/ Nuno Bettencourt). And you said "I've thought about it.... Always is a beautiful song."

Honey, why you gotta treat me so bad?

And here you are at the U2 show:

Unfair! Look at you, all trim and relaxed, that long graceful neck, sexy motorcycle boots, even THE NECKLACE. And do I see some classy silver threads in THE HAIR? And the worst part is that little half smile -- you look like the cat that ate the master tapes.

You're trying to kill me. You're trying to kill me right where I stand.

Look, if you DO want to sing and keep your sanity, here's my recommendation: Establish your independence.

Record an R&B covers thing -- whatever you like (as long as you do Jackie Wilson's "I'm the Man" because that's totally hot.) It’s a sure bet for sales, and given your retiring nature, just the fact that you’ve released something is big news. Now here's the beauty part: you release it yourself, on this thing called the Internet. All downloads, very little overhead, you keep the cash. You don't tour, or maybe just a few scattered shows. No, it's not a big worldwide splash, and yes, some a**holes decide to pan it because your voice is different from the way it was 30 years ago. But your faithful fans love it, and you gather about you a cozy little cult following.

Once you've established this setup, you can record and release whatever you want. You can perform when and where you feel like it. You proceed with your current boundaries: If I'm wearing a cool mafioso suit, you may take my picture. If I'm wearing scruddy sweats, get lost. If I happen to be with someone whose precise relationship to myself you know I am not eager to discuss... c’mon, don't be a jerk. (Please. Thank you.) Everyone respects these boundaries, mostly because of your niche-y awesomeness, but also because they know that if they don't, 50 women wearing "Mrs. Steve Perry" t-shirts will sweep in and make with the pummeling.

Once you see that this works, you call me up: "Deb, you were rightthis rocks." I do not say I told you so. However I do happen to mention that I make kickass sweetbread (true) and the hands-down best cup of coffee you will ever have (I'm not bragging, these are just facts). You get a wild idea: "Hey, lemme fly you out here, we'll hang around in scruddy sweats, watch baseball, and eat sweetbread until we bust a gut." Awesome! You quickly realize what a truly gifted writer I am and hire me to ghostwrite your autobiography. This is a massive success, we both become rich as Croesus, and everyone lives happily ever after.

See? No big whoop.

So here we are at The Bottom Line.

We miss you, Stevie.

We will leave you alone if that's what you want.

But if that IS what you want then STOP MESSING WITH US!

If you aren't going to sing ever again, just tell us, so our broken hearts can start to mend. (Sniffle, sniffle...)

If you DO want to sing, then SING, DAMMIT!

But baby, please... don't tease.

Love and kisses,


Happy (Belated) Halloween

I'm not gonna lie, the week leading up to Halloween, I was thinking about this awesome Halloween-themed post I had in mind. Then life, like it tends to do, kicked me in the metaphorical nuts and I came down with the Ass Plague and updating this blog was the last thing on my throbbing, achey mind. And, now, well, Halloween is over. Sigh.

But you know what? I say screw it. Because the picture I found is so sweet, and is the perfect combination of Halloween magic and Steve Perry goodness that I'm doing you mofos a disservice if I don't post it:

That's Luke Skywalker and Steve Perry, right down to the glorious man-hair and bad-ass leather jacket. Happy (belated) Halloween.

P.S. You can see more of the iconic awesomeness here.