Open Up and Say...Quit Laughing At Me!

You know what album I'm listening to right now? "Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!" Yes, by Poison. And the first thing I'd like to make clear is that this is not a Guilty Pleasure, because I decline to feel guilty about it. I enjoy this album a great deal, and I care not who knows it.

There are a number of albums I enjoy top-to-bottom. Some of them, like the first Violent Femmes albums, are generally agreed to be great. Some of them, like Hole's "Celebrity Skin," would be considered great if people would stop blaming the lead singer for Kurt Cobain killing himself. And some of them, like "Open Up and Say . . . Ahh!" are just great and all you people snickering at me can shut up. You just wish you'd written "Nothin' But a Good Time" and "Fallen Angel."

One of the reasons I like this album is probably this one day when my friend Craig and I drove around all day. I forget why we drove around all day, but it was like 9am to 7pm in his car, driving around San Diego. And this is the only cassette he had in his car, so we listened to it over and over. And over. For hours. I haven't listened to any of the songs in years (which is my own fault), but on putting in the cd, I knew all the words to all the songs. It's been burned into my brain, apparently.

I remember when this album was out, and I was listening to it a lot. About half the album got released as singles, and I actually felt anticipation wondering what song would be next to get on MTV. I also remember being disappointed that it was "Your Mama Don't Dance." I mean, it's an okay song, and I like covers in general, but why on earth did Poison feel the need to record a song written by Loggins and Messina? That's just weird.

It's easy to make fun of Poison. Really easy. Aside from Bret Michaels, the band members all had silly rock-star names like "Rikki Rockett." But I respect that. There's no Vedder-style ambivalence about being a rock star here; you can tell just from the extra "t" that he's completely signed on to the rocker lifestyle and the groupies can start lining up right over there.

These days, people look down on Poison, which I don't think is at all fair. People are willing to cut Guns 'n Roses some slack, because Appetite for Destruction is generally accepted as a great album (Shut up, it is too!). But just because Poison had silly hair and hot chicks in their videos, they're consigned to history. Actually, they've been written out of history: I was listening to this album at work, and this guy who was five years old when the album came out asked me all sorts of questions designed to make me feel like I'm a crotchety old man. Like, first he asked what sort of music Poison is considered, and I explained about Hair Metal.

And then he asked "How does something like that happen?" And that's a hard question to answer. I tried to explain about how there was Glam, and how that sort of degenerated into just having big hair, but it didn't really wash. I ended up in that lame "you had to be there" thing that baby boomers use to explain their sixties obsession. They should be teaching this sort of thing in the schools, shouldn't they? You don't want kids finding out about hair metal on the playground.

Poison are apparently out on tour (sometimes with Cinderella and Faster Pussycat), but it doesn't look like they're coming to Seattle anytime soon. It's one of those tours that has a lot of dates at the biker rally in Sturgis and the Minnesota State Fair, which feels about right. In fact, August 29-31 they hit State Fairs in Colorado, Nebraska, and Minnesota back-to-back. Rock and roll! The really surprising thing to me is that it's apparently the original lineup, too. C.C. DeVille was out of the band for awhile, but he came back for some reason, that's all I know. So it's not one of those deals like Flock of Seagulls where one guy from the original band is touring with a bunch of whippersnappers who weren't even alive during the band's heyday.

Oh, one more thing -- On Rikki Rockett's website, he's got a feature where he takes pictures of the paintings he draws on hotel toilet seats. I don't understand it either.