Now that's what I call BYH

PLAY CANDY EVERYBODY WANTS!!!

 

This thread is pathetic ... and I love it for it.

My four ... I originally thought I had five, but I must have been surreptitiously on mushrooms when I briefly considered Silent Lucidity to be a good song.

Faithfully, Journey -- By all rights, I should hate this song, since I dislike Journey intensely, but I've always had a soft spot for it for some reason.
Sister Christian, Night Ranger -- I unabashedly love this song. I don't care what anyone thinks.
Love Song, Tesla -- Maybe it's because it was one of the first in the early 90s acoustic wave, but this always stuck out above the crowd of schlock that was 1990 radio/MTV.

And finally ...
The Search Is Over, Survivor -- Gather round, folks! Nice to embarrass myself!

The Search Is Over was out in, what? 1985? I was in eighth grade at the time, a sensitive young man not unlike the protagonist in the song.

I was living for a dream, loving for a moment. Taking on the world, that was just my style.

Or not. The only "dream" I was living was pulling any ass in eighth grade ... or beyond. Taking on the world? If by "taking on the world", Survivor meant having all of the confidence of Brian Urlacher/LL Cool J/Tony Stewart in those Old Spice Swagger ads, that was just my style.

So I took the lyrics to heart. If I could befriend a girl, just like the dude in the song, she would eventually see the inherent goodness in my heart. She would look past the unkempt hair, the burgeoning acne, the fact that I was 4-foot-9 in eighth grade and appeared to be destined to replace Billy Barty as America's Favorite Midget.

Oh sure, she might not see it right away, but she'd eventually see that I was her man. Those jocks, all they want to do is bust a nut, I want to bust my heart! ... And later my nut, of course.

Once she warmed to the cockles in my heart, nothing could stop me, because I was the total, 100 percent package inside my heart. Where it counts. I was a good person, I could respect her for more than just wanting to get in her pants, but rest assured, once I did get in her pants, "she would know for certain, the man I really am."

Survivor said it could be done! They spoke to me! They provided the blueprint!

Emboldened by a band that hit it big by creating Mr. T's career, I followed that blueprint. In eighth grade and beyond. I befriended plenty of girls, many of whom I would have been interested in making the subject of my own personal Search Is Over story.

Hard as it might be to believe, but Survivor is full of shit. Befriending a girl in the hopes of dating, or even, fucking her -- especially back in the 1980s -- was probably the worst path to even a mild, platonic-ish form of love imaginable. It doesn't help when you look like Rusty from National Lampoon's European Vacation gone horribly wrong, but when you combine the two factors, it's like reverse Funky Cold Medina.

Yet I persisted with this plan. To the point where I resisted overtures from girls who were legitimately interested in me, girls who weren't bad looking in their own right, but who probably fell into the same Survivor-ish battle plan of love fail I fell into.

So while I may have a soft spot for your song, I fucking hate you, Survivor. Your bullshit doesn't work.

 

God, I love all you losers.

 

Bubbler can't hold back.

 

And then there's "BYH Does Broaodway"

http://www.rockofagesmusical.com/about.php

 

That's about 90 kinds of awesome, Junkie.

But I don't think any girl in human history has even touched the Moving Pictures album/CD, much less owned it, double much less listened to it.

 

Ain't nothing gonna break his stride.

 

You know what the sad thing is? You just justified this horrible, horrible song's existence not only on the album, but any comprehensive history of the power ballad. Not only is it an anachronism, but it's the swan song for the entire genre. It's like one last, pathetic shot out of a gun everyone assume rusted over. It's like getting your Smash Mouth Fan Club card in the mail last week. It's like falling in love with Ally McBeal.

In fact, had it and that stupid asteroid movie come out this summer, it would have probably would have started a power ballad revival that would have put post-punk out to pasture. Soon we'd have The Killers and Arcade Fire paying homage to White Lion and Kix instead of Springsteen and whatever disease-ridden concept that inspired the song "Human". But no, Aerosmith so poorly times this song that they can't even ride a credible retro wave, relying solely on the lameness of America's reliance on autopilot summer escapism to propel itself to heights undeserved.

Still, it's the end of an era. And for that reason, it belongs. Even if only to dub THIS SONG FUCKING SUCKS over it.

p.s. If you must have an Aerosmith power ballad, why not "Angel"?

 

Angel ... yep. Good song. Good power ballad.

 

Wrong, Bubs.

Knew a woman in college who loved "Tom Sawyer" and had the "Moving Pictures" album. She was walking by my vehicle and heard it ... and she had to say something.

No, you pervs, nothing like that. She simply dug the music.

 

It was a trannie, Sam.

 

No, Bubs. Trust me, she wasn't.

I saw her a few years ago in the concourses following a Whalercanes games. Straight guys could do much, much, much worse.