Never Too Soon to be Through; Being Cool, Too Much Too Soon

Tuesday. Yikes, what a busy day. I spent the greater part of the morning trying to persuade the Big Boss Lady and the Director of Operations not to implement their inherently faulty plan to correct an already faulty process. Of course, I told them that this process was faulty last fall (seriously, how could we go YEARS without somebody else ever noticing that we were billing our customer incorrectly?) but nothing was done about it until I actually took the time to compile a spreadsheet proving that we were billing our customer incorrectly. So, their plan was to replace the current flawed process with another process which was not only as equally flawed but would double the work load for our sales and operations dept. So I personally went up to bat on behalf of my compatriots on the sales side, and actually convinced upper management that my way was better (they should have listened to me in the first place, but, hey, they don't pay the top dogs the big bucks to take the word of an insignificant peon like me). Do I expect to get any recognition for this? No. But I did get a big "thank you" from my account manager buddy out in CA and she’s the one I work with every day, so that’s what really matters to me.

So, in my quest to keep from repeating music reviews, I dusted off one of my old CDs I haven't heard in a long while: Mother's Milk by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I chose this one because I think that this album signifies a turning point in the RHCP's careers. Some might say that this album marked the culmination of all of their talent, the pinnacle in the history of their craft. More cynical people would probably say that this was the last good album before they started the long road to total suckness.

Back in the early 90s, there was another musical fad spreading besides grunge. It was the bass-driven funk/rock sound. This genre was pioneered by the Chilis, perfected by Primus, and bands like the Infectious Grooves hopped on for the ride. Bass was king, and those who could pop and slap suddenly came to the limelight after years of bass player obscurity. Flea replaced Geddy Lee as the face of the bass, and a huge underground fan base loved these crazy tattooed fools who played in nothing but well-placed socks. The songs were funky, punky and raw. The lyrics were obscene with the chance of mainstream airplay minimal. I saw the RHCP play to a crazy crowd of about 2,000 freaks (man, did they come out of the woodwork that night. Where were these people's day jobs???) and the energy was immeasurable. They blew away my 16-year old mind. Then came Under the Bridge and the whole mainstream, wuss out, ballad-singing phase of the RHCP's history. Like Metallica, the RHCP are now shunned by the fans of the very genre they helped create. It's a tight edge to walk if you are in the music biz. You work and work to get a hit record and make it big, but then you risk losing the support of those who knew you before you sold out. Honestly, I've tried to like the Chili Pepper's new stuff. I have the albums. I've tried listening to them. They're just simply not as good. They just don't measure up to the likes of Mother's Milk or Freaky Styley.

Well, here's another long post that I should wrap up pretty soon here. Mother's Milk=good. Recommended tracks: Johnny Kick a Hole in the Sky, Nobody Weird Like Me and Knock Me Down.