Article about this Kurt Cobain ad for Doc Martens here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/05/business/media/05adco.html
This is really one of the most profane things I think they could come up with. The Heather Chandler memorial spread in the Westerberg High yearbook was more tasteful. It’s precious that Saatchi & Saatchi considers these ads a beautiful tribute to four legendary musicians. And she is including Sid Vicious as legendary musician! In the same breath as Joe Strummer! And not to pass judgment, but in terms of these guys’ eligibility for heaven, can we just not go there? Especially when you consider the demise of Kurt and Sid, it’s totally depressing. They are selling image and cheap, meaningless, shopping mall sentimentality. If you want a tribute for Joey Ramone, pay $7 to see a punk band at The Bug Jar.
A couple of really embarrassing things from last Friday:
We had our third bi-weekly neighborhood happy hour, and on the way home we were walking with our next door neighbor and her daughter. I was pushing Syd in our wagon and Dennise was carrying Drew. I got tired of pushing the wagon up and down the street while everyone else ambled home, so our neighbor’s daughter pushed instead and I took her scooter. So I started scooting up and down the street and was doing pretty well until I ran into a pinecone and fell off. I didn’t fly off or do a flip or anything, the scooter just hit the pinecone and stopped and I fell like a tree. I had two outstretched hands to break my fall so I actually went down pretty softly, but it wasn’t my coolest moment. I was thinking, what am I doing, I am going to be 35 years old! When my dad was 35, I was eleven! When I was eleven, I had a better chance of seeing President Reagan on a scooter than my dad.
Anyway, I’m afraid to say the biggest embarrassment was at the party itself. Neighbors have taken turns hosting these get-togethers, and I’ve wondered if and when the time comes for us to host, what five CDs would I put in rotation to best let everyone know just how cool and awesome I am and how much more with-it I am compared to everybody else. We don’t have the nicest house, we won’t have the best food, we don’t have the nicest things, but I really thought we could shine by putting on some awesome tunes. The music at the other parties has been fine, but kind of predictable. I wasn’t able to listen too closely last Friday, but I thought I heard some unfamiliar Elvis Costello before it went into (what else) Dave Matthews Band. So as we were leaving I asked Ryan what Elvis Costello CD we were listening to, but it was Coldplay. And this mistake of mine can never be undone. Even though I barely really heard the music and only caught a few bits of it, really no excuse will suffice when you bring up Elvis Costello and it's Coldplay. Dennise was standing right there and she knew exactly what I did and she made this sound like she was a schoolgirl who realized I just said something out of turn to the teacher. So that’s a credit I guess to how well she knows me, because she understood that in my mind I had just stepped into a big pile of dogshit. Then Ryan goes into this spiel about who Chris Martin is, and what Coldplay is like, and basically just trying to introduce me to the whole thing. Every second was just unbearable because I really wanted to find a hole to go crawl into. So now we have to move!
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/05/business/media/05adco.html
This is really one of the most profane things I think they could come up with. The Heather Chandler memorial spread in the Westerberg High yearbook was more tasteful. It’s precious that Saatchi & Saatchi considers these ads a beautiful tribute to four legendary musicians. And she is including Sid Vicious as legendary musician! In the same breath as Joe Strummer! And not to pass judgment, but in terms of these guys’ eligibility for heaven, can we just not go there? Especially when you consider the demise of Kurt and Sid, it’s totally depressing. They are selling image and cheap, meaningless, shopping mall sentimentality. If you want a tribute for Joey Ramone, pay $7 to see a punk band at The Bug Jar.
A couple of really embarrassing things from last Friday:
We had our third bi-weekly neighborhood happy hour, and on the way home we were walking with our next door neighbor and her daughter. I was pushing Syd in our wagon and Dennise was carrying Drew. I got tired of pushing the wagon up and down the street while everyone else ambled home, so our neighbor’s daughter pushed instead and I took her scooter. So I started scooting up and down the street and was doing pretty well until I ran into a pinecone and fell off. I didn’t fly off or do a flip or anything, the scooter just hit the pinecone and stopped and I fell like a tree. I had two outstretched hands to break my fall so I actually went down pretty softly, but it wasn’t my coolest moment. I was thinking, what am I doing, I am going to be 35 years old! When my dad was 35, I was eleven! When I was eleven, I had a better chance of seeing President Reagan on a scooter than my dad.
Anyway, I’m afraid to say the biggest embarrassment was at the party itself. Neighbors have taken turns hosting these get-togethers, and I’ve wondered if and when the time comes for us to host, what five CDs would I put in rotation to best let everyone know just how cool and awesome I am and how much more with-it I am compared to everybody else. We don’t have the nicest house, we won’t have the best food, we don’t have the nicest things, but I really thought we could shine by putting on some awesome tunes. The music at the other parties has been fine, but kind of predictable. I wasn’t able to listen too closely last Friday, but I thought I heard some unfamiliar Elvis Costello before it went into (what else) Dave Matthews Band. So as we were leaving I asked Ryan what Elvis Costello CD we were listening to, but it was Coldplay. And this mistake of mine can never be undone. Even though I barely really heard the music and only caught a few bits of it, really no excuse will suffice when you bring up Elvis Costello and it's Coldplay. Dennise was standing right there and she knew exactly what I did and she made this sound like she was a schoolgirl who realized I just said something out of turn to the teacher. So that’s a credit I guess to how well she knows me, because she understood that in my mind I had just stepped into a big pile of dogshit. Then Ryan goes into this spiel about who Chris Martin is, and what Coldplay is like, and basically just trying to introduce me to the whole thing. Every second was just unbearable because I really wanted to find a hole to go crawl into. So now we have to move!
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