A friend of mine hates mash ups. The whole idea and shebang of taking two shitty tunes and making another shitty tune out of it, or ruining two good songs and transforming it into a shitty tune, pisses him off to no end. So much so, he is incapable of stifling his grief out loud.
In 1986, Wham! officially broke up. Truth is, it was a somber day for Andrew Ridgeley. George Michael had to have some kind of inkling of an idea that he was going to go the solo artist route. The band thing was only holding him back from greater success and sexual acts in public toilets. It makes sense that Andrew Ridgeley, more commonly known as the other guy with no talent of Wham!, you know, the guy who danced, but didn’t sing (he may have sung “jitterbug”, yet, I have doubts that he could sing that low.), was not heard from again, until the death of George Michael.
Marvin Gaye was fatally shot by his dad on April 1, 1984. At the risk of sounding racist, he was a much better performer than Wham!
Before there was Insane Clown Posse, GWAR and Donald Trump, America’s current president, there was Kiss. Today we study what happens when the world of glame (a combo of glamour and lame) band Kiss and too soulful Marvin Gaye converges.
One man trying to entertain himself is walking down the street listening to Gladys Knight & The Pips as loud as he possibly can on headphones. Another man is approaching him listening to George Michael on headphones. As often happens in these situations, they collide. One indignant man says, “You’ve got your Gladys Knight in my George Michael.” The other man slaps him hard across the face. True story.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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