Lacking cultural significance or critical acclaim, many aging bands continue on past the prime of their careers. While some are sustained by older fans willing to purchase their sub-par new releases, others end up playing the county fair and casino circuit, their albums relegated to bargain bins.
What exactly will it take before these aging rock veterans go the same way as their cold-blooded counterparts? Is an apocalyptic global catastrophe necessary to lay these dinos to rest?
Just when you think Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley will finally retire, they release some live KISS DVD, a new line of coffee mugs and a barely watchable reality television program. If Simmons was a dinosaur he’d be a Pachycephalosaurus: a big, ugly motherfucker with a huge head.
Nugent is one dinosaur many pray will soon go extinct. Having not released popular music since the 70s, the Motor City Madman continues to annoy with his outspoken political conservatism, gun enthusiasm, slaughter of animals, and general arrogance.
The Rolling Stones
Keith Richards is like a Pterodactyl, as he’s always flying high, and Mick Jagger has a mouth larger than a duck-billed Edmontosaurus. With a career spanning over 50 years and still going strong, it would take an something like an asteroid hitting their recording studio to slow down these ancients.
It’s incredibly easy to hate on U2. Bono is a bespectacled, quasi-political jackass, there’s The Edge and his ever-present stupid hat, and the general feeling the band thinks they’re much more important than they really are. They’re the Brontosaurus of the music industry, slowly trodding along, oblivious to everything around them. That, and everything since The Joshua Tree has sucked.
Clapton’s late career output is so boring it makes Elton John sound like G.G. Allin. He would need to release an album of love ballad duets with a Tyrannosaurus Rex to seem interesting at this point.
Having formed in the late Cretaceous period, The Who crawled their way out of primordial ooze to conquer millions of fans worldwide. Losing their wildman drummer Keith Moon in 1978 and bassist John Entwistle in 2002, founder Townshend and Daltrey for some reason feel it necessary to continue to play stadium tours and release new material.
The 2004 documentary Some Kind of Monster was a personal glimpse into the luxurious lives of the aging metal-heads. Drummer Lars Ulrich was fullyexposed as the spoiled, rich, arrogant asshole he truly is. With any luck, he will be devoured by a ravenous pack of Stegosauri.
Dylan’s voice has deteriorated in recent years to a guttural roar not unlike the Velociraptor’s vocalizations.
After their breakup in 1980, Don Henley commented that the Eagles would get back together when “hell freezes over.” Well, they’re reunited and it seems only a massive, globally destructive event will put these antiquated Jurassic ass-hats to rest.
Since the dissolution of the Police in 1986, Sting has churned out safe, adult contemporary crap disturbingly reminiscent of Enya. I hope he’s gored by a Triceratops.