Darrell Vickers: Justin Time

Darrell VickersToday’s soul-searching column has been inspired by the one and only, Canadian extraordinaire, Justin Bieber.  You may be asking yourself:  Am I a big fan of The Biebster?  Do I swoon when El Biebo hits a high note and tosses his seriously-banged moptop in my direction?  Is my closet full of official Justin Bieber t-shirts and bubble-hoodies?  Am I a member of the radical, underground worship/death cult, The Beliebers?  Alas, the answer is no.

I must confess, as big a fan as I am of Canadiana, JB’s pre-pubescent warbling has yet to find purchase in the core of my soul.  I have heard him give voice to soaring notes of auto-corrected ascendency but I could not name a single hit he’s had.

Radisson and Groseilliers in a canoeSo, why the fuck am I rambling on about Ontario’s puffy-cheeked little blond answer to Donny Osmond?  It’s all about History.  (Don’t worry, I don’t mean Canadian history.  I’m not going to regale you with pointless stories about Radisson and fucking Groseilliers in a canoe or the Rebellion of 1837 which lasted about half an hour.) I’m going to be talking about the history of music and rock and roll.

The Foundation of My Proffer:

jimi hendrix graveIt may behoove us at this juncture to take a backwards gander at some individuals with real talent.  World-class talent.  People who had it all.

For instance: Jimi Hendrix, Paul Kossoff, Mike Bloomfield and Tommy Bolin seemed to know their way around a set of strings stuck to a piece of wood.  Whitney Houston, Janis Joplin, Michael Jackson and Dinah Phil+Lynott graveWashington have been known to hit the odd correct note.  Phil Lynnot, Kurt Cobain, Hank Williams, Gram Parsons and Tim Hardin managed to write a song or two you might have heard of.  And then the moment came.  Once these extraordinary artists had attained the mega-success they’d always dreamed of, they had a big decision to make.  “Do I keep my nose somewhat clean, work hard at my craft and live a life of untold luxury and adoration or…do I pound it all down a rathole?”  These dubiously-wise individuals all chose to drive up to that big, rocky thelma and louise flying off cliffThelma and Louise cliff and step on the gas. Instead of rolling around naked on 1,000 dollar bills and having them stick to the dew of their glory (stolen from The Tracy Ullman Show) they inexplicably opt to end their days bobbing up and down in a festering cesspool of drugs, booze, arrests and vomit.

big mansionLet’s face it, banging groupies (Even Janis and Whitney liked to do that.) and living in mansions of gold is for people without any flair.  Surely it’s far cooler and artsy to die in the desert with people jamming ice-cubes up your ass.  Really?

And these are just the guys and gals kacking it directly from booze and drugs.  There’s a list a mile long man snorting hug pile of cokeof drunken car wrecks, liver disease, stomachs bursting, heart failure and the odd suicide by hanging.

I have a friend (Actually, he’s a bit of a prick and I don’t see him very often but in Hollywood, that’s a friend.) who produces music specials.  A few years back, he wanted Whitney Houston to be on one such glitz-fest.  Her record company wanted her to be on it.  Stu whitney houston looking like shitneeded her to remain upright in front of a camera for five minutes and lip-sync to a song.  Regrettably, the record company had to say no.  They couldn’t guarantee that she could stand there and move her lips for five minutes without snakes jumping out of her eyes.

The same producer had talked to another company that was forced to digitally add pounds of flesh to her arms on a show so she wouldn’t horrify the home audience.  Now think carefully about how well Whitney Houston sang compared to Captain Canada.  I’d sure hate to fall that far off a building.

So here poor little misunderstood Justy sits, in his deluxe hotel suite with a pile of coke the size of Andre the Giant, bemoaning his plight between Herculean vacuitous inhalations.   Everything is so unfair.

justin beiber looking perplext“People complain when I do a concert and sing every love song to the eightball in my pocket.”

“The Press keeps accusing me of being on drugs every time I’m on drugs.”

“Lindsay Lohan once tried to rub me into her gums.”

“Guys can marry other guys but not their bongs?  I don’t fucking get it.”

justin beiber pointing finger“Pasta is made out of one thing but has a million shapes and names but pizza is made out of a million different things but only has one shape and one name.  This really fucks up my head, man.”

“I have to remember so much important shit.  Like lyrics and the names of my family and what girls look like.”

“My eyebrows won’t stop talking to me.”

“When it’s dark in the hotel room, it’s really easy to accidentally snort all the blush out of a groupie’s compact.”

justin beiber giving the finger“Crossing the border with 4 pounds of powder up your poop chute is really uncomfortable.”

“My pee-pee doesn’t go up to eleven.”

“In a city the size of London, I can’t fine one prostitute that looks like my mother?”

So, you can see, it’s really tough being La Biebala.  And he has to do it 24/7!  The things this cuddly Canadian canary has to put up with would make the caviar fall right out of your mouth.  The scary part is, he’s only 19!  He has to live an entire 8 more years before he can even join the 27 Club.  That’s about as likely as doctor’s re-attaching Jayne Mansfield’s head.

My Legally Advisable Cop-Out:

justin bieber with his jointBut, perhaps I’m being a little hard on Stratford’s diminutive cherubic songbird and all these scurrilous rumours and reports are mere calumny.  Perhaps he won’t consume his lanky bodyweight in intoxicating Columbian granules and end up performing fallatio on a drunken Shriner in an Arby’s dumpster to pay for his next bag.  Why don’t we review the last couple of months for JuBe clues, shall we?  First there was that pic of him online brandishing a joint, next he starts displaying irritable and erratic behavior and finally collapses on stage and is treated for “Exhaustion”.  FYI:  The word “exhaustion” is used as code throughout the entertainment world and simply means that Mr. Beiber was “totally FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCKKKKKKKKKKKKEDDDDDDDDD UP!”

Then again, perhaps not.

Back to History:

elvis' graveNow, no one expects a musician to be an investment banker or even smart.  Lots and lots of brilliant players and singers can’t even butter their own toast, but the one thing they do all know about is history.  The history of music.  Of rock and roll.  Of blues.  Of jazz.  They harvest what is breathtaking and timeless from their forbearers and add their own personal sprinkling of genius to create fresh and exciting anthems for the next generation.  It’s practically impossible to find a single rock star today billy holiday's gravewho couldn’t name 250 pop, blues, jazz and R&B artists who made them who they are as players or singers or writers.  They obsess over every note and tone of a recording no one else has ever heard of.  So, how is it possible to look back on your heroes and inspirations and not weep at the senseless loss of Billy Holiday, Charlie Parker, Chet Baker, man falling off tall buildinJohn Bonham, Danny Whitten (though we did get a nice song out of it), Elvis Presley, Amy Winehouse and most of Alice in Chains?

How congenitally stupid do you have to be to see this endless human misery train and decide to jump on board?

The Point?

justin beiber being restrainedJust because you have talent to burn, doesn’t mean you have to.

Getting to sing in front of 100,000 people is a rare, rare accomplishment and transcendently special.  Waking up in a pool of your own piss?  Anybody can do that.  Get it together butthead!

A Video!

Mia Dyson is a recent discovery of mine.   Her new album, “The Moment” is just totally kick-ass.  If the song below doesn’t compel you to call up I-tunes to get your own copy, then you have my permission to go to bed without any supper.

=DV=

Darrell Vickers appears here every 4th Friday 

Contact us at dbawis@rogers.co

DBAWIS ButtonDarrell Vickers started out as one half of Toronto area band, Nobby Clegg.  CFNY fans may remember the cheery song “Me Dad” which still gets airplay.  From there, he valiantly ventured to L.A. and eventually became head writer for The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson.  Since then, he’s created numerous sitcoms and animation shows in Canada and the U.S.  He still writes music and has an internet band called Death of the Author Brigade (members in Croatia, Canada and the U.S.)   Mr. Vickers also had a private music mailing-list where he features new and pre-loved music.  Anyone who would like to be added to his daily mailing list, just write him at Radiovickers1@gmail.com .

3 Responses to “Darrell Vickers: Justin Time”

  1. Yeah?! Oh yeah?!— The Bieber

  2. Fee Gunn Says:

    Monsieur Vickers you are a linguistic god, thanks for not ripping into the Beeb for being a self righteous dipstick and sticking to the facts. 27 can’t come fast enough to see if the prophecy is what it is. Musical talent may kill you but talent being a marketers dream requires very little musical talent whatsoever. Sad that little girls enjoy being told what is good.
    If the beeb expires at 27 then maybe he did actually have talent.

  3. Jesus, are you kidding me, this song by Mia Dyson is the first song to give me chills since Dusquene Whistle. Nice find!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: