I love Triumph.
That is all for now.
This pretty much sums up where I’ve been for the past year. To the many who alight here daily, looking for new content, just know that sometimes a cat gets sidetracked, and the litter box is the last thing on their mind.
It was 1999-2004 that I got to know Poncho. He was and is one of the most alive people on the planet. Born to sing, dance, and channel Bacchus, he is the epitome of fun. I hate to say it, but the band he was in for such a long time was always this short of great, and aside from Poncho’s stage presence, not all that interesting. Even the name, Unlimited Phlavor, missed the mark of excellence.
But my old friend is back with a new crew, calling themselves the New F-O’s, and it appears he’s got some game to go with his passion now. Poncho’s the one in the purple shirt/yellow sunglasses. The fun one. I like his new compadre (The gruff one) and although there’s some understandably buzzkill narrative here regarding senseless violence, it’s great to see an old friend making his mark. The song is about good and bad, and the video mirrors the sentiment in a familiar way. Also, I swear that alley scene is behind my aunt’s house, but then again, it’s Phoenix. The whole inner city looks like that.
To sum up, I like this video a little bit more than you do, but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. Or good. Just fun. Rock on, Poncho!
This is the close I could come to England Dan and John Ford Coley’s assertion that a “warm wind” could blow stars around. I used to fool myself into believing the lyric said “There’s a warm wind blowin’, the stars are out… and I’d really love to see you tonight.” But as I listen in HD, and Hi Fidelity, it’s clear he’s either talking about stars being blown around by the warm wind of his love, or he was possibly really high when he sung it. Judge For Yourself (Scroll to I’d Really Love to See You Tonight). I was right all along, the stars are blown around!
Here’s a snip from Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas:
In truth, talking to members of Journey doesn’t interest me that much; I much prefer chatting with my Croatian waiter, as he seems to know a great deal about international politics and international heavy metal. He bristles when I tell him I like KISS. “Oof,” guffaws Zeljko. “That is only show! ‘I was made for loving you’? Oof. That is no rock. AC/DC is rock, but only from Bon Scott era, and maybe on Back in Black. Saxon, Judas Priest, these are the rock bands.”
Zeljko works on this Carnival cruise line because Serbians bombed his house during the ’90s. Now he supports his wife and kids by refilling my glass with ice water and sending his paycheck across the Atlantic. This makes me so depressed that I briefly consider buying some Saxon records.
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