Tuesday, September 4, 2007


There are many odd things about me, and I don't just acknowledge them. I accept and embrace them.

A long time ago, I realized that striving for "normalcy in the eyes of other people" was a futile and, frankly, boring pursuit. It was much easier for me to embrace my idiosyncracies and unique interests and say "Fuck All" to whatever was popular at the time.

Of course, I’ve also taken certain aspects of my upbringing in stride...

Thus, since my parents were oldies/beach music/classic rock junkies, I also came to appreciate these genres (or basic classifications) in my own special way. Which is, of course, to stand atop the world and glorify them to the greatest extent of my powers.

And it’s funny how people my parents’ age (and older) seem amazed at how a black-clad, simultaneously-evil-and-goofy-looking, twenty-something-jackass can have such a comprehensive knowledge of and unconditional love for music made, in most cases, well over thirty years (and, in some cases, more) before he was born.

And, granted, I freak out, as well, when I meet people younger than myself (my funky brother excluded) who also have an anachronistic oldies obsession. But, granted further, people younger than myself are much more likely to have horrible musical tastes than those in their late-20's and above (generally speaking). I mean, anyone who’d rather listen to Justin Timberlake, Jet, or My Chemical Romance than, say, Stevie Wonder is in need of a violent and life-changing aural dropkick to the ears.

So, to help educate those with "musical deficiencies" and to bolster solidarity and enthusiastic discussion amongst those who are perpetually in the Groove, we shall provide a brief, intermittent list of classic songs and artists that have inspired and continue to inspire one Rev. J.J. Hull.

To begin, I submit one of my favorite songs that no one else I know has ever heard....

Wilson Pickett - Engine Number 9

They didn’t call my man "Wicked" for nothing. Take Wilson's throat-searing soul vocals, add in a nasty guitar line, some serious percussion (someone’s wearing a cowbell out), and a James Brown vibe, and you’ve got a cut that’s just as funky now as the day it was laid down.

And feel free to check out the rest of Wicked’s catalog. He simply refuses to disappoint.