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Posted by Little Wing on 07 June 2006 - 02:29 PM
Location: Hoboken, NJ
Favorite Musical Artists: Red Hot Chili Peppers
Favorite Guitar Player: David Gilmour
Favorite Genre of Music: Funk Rock
Favorite Movie: A Bronx Tale
Favorite Actor: Nicholas Cage
Favorite Actress: Jessica Alba
Favorite Song: Apache Rose Peacock
Favorite Album: Blood Sugar Sex Magik
Pepsi or Coke: Coke
Gibson or Fender: Fender
Ford or Chevy: Neither.
Time playing guitar (years, months, etc): 3 years
Favorite guitar (that you own): 2005 Fender American Deluxe Stratocaster V-Neck (long, huh?)
Favorite guitar (that you don't own): 1972 Fender Telecaster Thinline
Posted by metal432 on 16 June 2004 - 09:44 AM
Posted by improviduto on 28 July 2004 - 11:38 AM
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originally created by folkgirl
updated 07-12-04 by improviduto (v1.1)
updated 07-28-04 by improviduto (v1.2)
updated 07-28-04 by improviduto (v1.2)
see below threads for further version history
Posted by SmObbe on 09 April 2004 - 11:00 AM
Composer: Oscar Jacobsson
Thinking of you all the time
When it was you and me
Thought you never would leave me
Thought you loved me
But then you ran away from me
|:Alone in this sorrowed world -
Could do anything to get you back to me -
Im lost without you -
in this life of coldness :|
Posted by dorio on 27 August 2005 - 09:50 PM
Band: Alice Cooper
Album: Billion Dollar Babies
Released in March of 1973
Label: Warner Brothers
Producer: Bob Ezrin
1. Hello Hooray
2. Raped and Freezin
4. Billion Dollar Babies
5. Unfinished Sweet
6. No More Mr. Nice Guy
7. Generation Landslide
8. Sick Things
9. Mary Ann
10. I Love the Dead
Alice Cooper was a band that was always described inaccurately. Rock critics and music snobs worldwide were passing them off as just another glam band. They said that Alice Cooper only played music to cause anger and disgust. Parents accused Alice Cooper's music of being nothing but shock value. All the mentioned accusations are incorrect, and Billion Dollar Babies is proof of that. The members of Alice Cooper were terrific songwriters, and had a purpose other than shocking people. That purpose was to entertain. Some music is supposed to be listened to, and pondered, and recognized as a work of art. Some music is just supposed to be enjoyed. This album is the latter. The album is all about having fun.
The album begins with a Broadway tune called "Hello Hooray." It's the perfect way to start out this album. The song is flashy, entertaining, and anthemic. The song makes the listener feel like one of the greatest shows on earth is starting, and in a way, it's true. The song lets you know that you are about to begin a dazzling, twisted, magnificent show.
After the flashy beginning comes the straight up rock n roll of "Raped and Freezin'." The song is very exciting and catchy. It also shows some of Alice Cooper's humor, when after Alice sings, "Alone down in Mexico, alone," the song becomes very Spanish sounding, complete with Alice singing "Aye yai yai yai yai" in a high pitched yelp.
The next song is the rip-roaring rock n roll anthem, "Elected." This is easily the most exciting song on the album. During the chorus, it has a great power chord riff, and the song gets even more exciting as more of the brass section is introduced into the song. It also shows the vocal power of Alice. It is a very fun song, and like the last song, ends with humor, as Alice shouts as if he is at a campaign pep rally his true feelings about the American people; "We have problems in the north, south, east, and west, and personally, I don't care!" He also describes what he'd do if he's elected. He'd form a new party, "the wild party." And judging by the song, that exactly what their party would be. This song is one of the highlights of the album.
The next song, "Billion Dollar Babies," is about what Alice Cooper thinks of the rich and the famous. He mocks them with sarcastic lyrics such as "we go dancing in the attic nightly, while the moon is rising in the sky" said in a snobby tone by the popular 60's vocalist, Donovan. The lyrics are actually a little ironic, since it was made at around the time when Alice Cooper were becoming full-fledged rock stars, participating in the over-indulgence (such as renting out an entire mansion in Greenwich to record the album) they mock in the song. Was the irony purposefully comedic, or was Alice Cooper being hypocritical? With Alice, you couldn't really tell, so you can either take this song as a mockery of indulgent lifestyles, or an ironic parody of the band. As for the song, it was one of his biggest hits, and personally, I'm not sure why. While it may be the most popular song on the album, it's pretty annoying after a few listens. It's not very catchy and it doesn't seem to go anywhere.
"Unfinished Sweet" is the next song on the album, and is somewhat of a hidden Alice Cooper gem. While it's not very well-known, it portrays the most well-known side of Alice Cooper very well. It's a playful song about dentists, and shows some of Alice Cooper's humor, but this time, the humor is done to amuse himself. It has 2 fake endings, confusing listeners, and bringing joy to Alice. It's got a good guitar riff, too.
"No More Mr. Nice Guy" is a very catchy song, and one of Alice Cooper's biggest hits. It is a little before it's time, and like most Alice Cooper songs, very anthemic. The lyrics are about Alice Cooper's rising fame, mostly because of the band's antics. It is about the problems with being infamous, and what it does to a person. It's one of the catchiest songs on the album.
"Generation Landslide" is another hidden gem, and perhaps one of Alice Cooper's best hidden gems. It begins with a folksy acoustic guitar, broken barre chord riff, which is at times jovial, and at times eerie. After this acoustic guitar riff, Alice has a vocal riff, so to speak. He does a single, intense "la da da da da" and the combination of acoustic and electric guitar riff begins. As the song progresses, it gets bluesier, all the way until a very good harmonica solo. Definitely one of the highlights of the album, and definitely one of Alice's most underrated songs.
A trademark of sorts for Alice Cooper albums, the last 3 songs are the most obscene, shocking, and sometimes scary songs on the album. This string of songs begins with "Sick Things." The song is a tribute to Alice Cooper's fans, done like no other artist would have done at the time. Alice refers to his fans as "Sick things...my things." Musically, the song isn't that great, but the song serves it's purpose well.
"Mary Ann" is the next in the string of songs. The only instrument being played in the song is a piano, which throughout the song has a lot of reverb, and it sounds like it's swirling. The piano sounds as if the melody is floating, and it's very dreamy sounding. At first, the song seems like it's a tribute to a girl named Mary Ann, up until the last line, when Alice sings "Mary Ann, I thought you were my man." This brings up a lot of questions about the sexuality of the singer, and about Mary Ann. It confuses the listener, which is something that Alice obviously likes doing.
The last song is the scary song in the string of songs, it is called "I Love The Dead." It begins with an eerie acoustic guitar riff. The sinister vocals come in, "I love the dead, before they're cold. Their bluing flesh for me to hold." The entire song is rather scary and disturbing, but perhaps the most disturbing part of the song is the least graphic. In the chorus, Alice sings proudly, "I love the dead." The tone of the music when he sings this is glorious, triumphant, and anthemic. It gives the feeling that this necrophilia experience is one of the greatest moments of the narrator's life. It's a chilling way to end a terrific, diverse album.
As anyone can see after hearing this album, Alice Cooper was the embodiment of over-indulgent 70's glam. He was pompous, shocking, entertaining, and exciting. Alice Cooper was not only a very important band in the scheme of glam rock, but an innovator of shock rock. Unfortunately, Alice Cooper will never be considered the great artist he is. The band's great songwriting will always be overshadowed by their behavior. And they will always be overlooked by rock snobs, who say there is no art in Alice Cooper's music. And maybe those rock snobs are right, but it doesn't matter. Alice Cooper's music is all about having fun, and boy is this album fun. It's entertainment at it's best. A must have for fans of glam rock, or anyone looking for a good time in their music.
Posted by pauliejay on 29 December 2003 - 12:27 AM
Got something you don't know the answer to and are to scared to ask? Look here, you might just find it!
Looking for the
Bassplayer's List Of
Need inspiration? Try REFER-A-BASSIST
Want a handy site that will help your theory??? CLICK HERE!!
Wikipedia's FAQ and info about the bass. Its very useful. CLICK ME!!
Too lazy to scroll? Click the appropriate link, give it a few seconds, and you question will be answered.
1. WHAT’S WHAT ON A BASS?
2. WHICH BASS IS BEST FOR A BEGINNER? click
3. WHICH AMP IS BEST FOR A BEGINNER? click
4. CAN I PLAY A BASS THROUGH A GUITAR AMP? click
5. WHAT IS AN AMPLIFIER AND WHAT IS A PREAMP? click
6. WHAT ARE THE DIFFERENT TYPES OF AMPLIFIERS? click
7. WHAT ARE THE DIFFERENT TYPES OF SPEAKERS? click
8. DOES MY AMP AND SPEAKER BOX HAVE TO BE THE SAME BRAND? click
9. OHMS/ IMPEDANCE click
10. HOW DO I USE MY EQ/ TONE SHAPING? click
11. WHAT IS CLIPPING/ DISTORTION? click
12. WHAT ARE SOME GOOD THINGS TO START LEARNING? click
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14. USING EFFECTS WITH BASS click
15. HOW DO ADJUST THE HEIGHT OF MY STRINGS AND I FIX THE INTONATION OF MY BASS? click
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20. HOW DO I PUT A PICTURE IN MY POST? click
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23. HOW DO I PUT AN AVATAR (the small pic on the left near the user name) INTO MY POSTS? click
24. HOW DO I PERFORM A SEARCH? click
Posted by gusdotcom on 14 February 2013 - 02:10 PM
I get a distinct feeling that I have missed something here or is the movie and the ninth season not part of the rest? Rimer was alive and then he was a hologram again. Where did all the crew go? They never really bothered being consistent but this feels rather huge.
Posted by BrokenMirror on 26 February 2011 - 04:05 PM
I need to write this and yet I have put it off for days now. I know I have been blasé about the September quake, but I doubt there's a single soul who could be about this one. I can give you the facts - 6.3 magnitude, 4km deep, 10km from the city centre, it struck at 12.51pm on Tuesday the 22nd of February. So far, the confirmed body count stands at 146, though no one is kidding themselves that the real tally doesn't stand far greater than that. The facts are bare, cold and dispassionate. The images are awful, but two dimensional. All I can give you that's human is my story.
Shortly after 12.30pm, I came out of an arduous conference and I was starving. I went downstairs, glanced at my calendar, answered a few emails and stressed about my next meeting. My tummy was grumbling audibly - time for lunch! I planned to grab something easy from right across the road in Shades arcade and eat it at my desk while I worked. But of course the little nicotine monster was grumbling too, so I threw a couple of cigarettes and a lighter in my pocket, and five dollars for the sushi of the day (I hoped it would be surimi!), and headed outside. I planned to only be a few minutes so I left my handbag and my phone on my desk. When I locked my screen, it was 12.43.
Outside, I smoked that cigarette and began to relax. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and I planned my meeting prep in my mind as I puffed. The smoking area is under a big concrete canopy supported by four huge concrete pillars. The staff's motorbikes are parked there too. I'd just popped the butt in the ashtray when the world turned upside down.
We have been through thousands of aftershocks. I recognised the rumble, and leaned my hand on a concrete pillar to wait it out, as always. But this was no normal worldly jitter. The earth literally lurched from side to side. My mind barely took in what was happening - why was the building opposite leaping around like a drunkard? It wasn't until the motorbikes began to migrate that I actually registered that I was in danger.
At first they fell like dominoes. One after another, they crashed into one another, with a crashing racket that barely registered over the gigantic rumble of the city's death throes. I watched a yellow bike that I'd often admired (a sleek, cat-like machine - so beautiful) as it rolled and slewed towards me. Then bikes were everywhere and I knew I had to move before their game of ten-pin bowling made a strike out of my body. So I lurched to the right, but soon realised I was unable to walk properly - this thing seemed to go on forever! I made my way to the other pillar, closer to the street, and a clear space that the bikes had vacated. I hadn't even noticed that my boss was out there too until she grabbed onto my arm and we held on for dear life until the shaking and rolling subsided.
My arm linked around Vicki's, I watched the building across the street tumble down to the ground. Have you ever snapped a big piece of polystyrene in two? That's what it looked like. Painted polystyrene, broken up by huge hands. My first, inane, thought was "oh look, it's white on the inside." Huge pieces of white and painted rubble lay all around us, everything, even the very air, filled with a white, choking dust.
Then my mind snapped out of it and finally the cogs started turning. Vicki had let go of me and was already shouting orders to people standing around. I grabbed her and cried "what would you like me to do? Tell me what I can do!" She stared at me blankly for a second before she told me to get everyone safely off the street. Her voice was a thin thread of panic. I suspect that mine was too. We both yelled over the deafness in our ringing ears.
The dust was everywhere. I didn't even look at my building. I headed for the street and found the people I cared about. I saw a colleague who did not cope well with the September quake and made for her. She shook like a leaf and cried into her dead cellphone. Surrounded by people, she yet looked alone. I threw my arms around her, cellphone, snot and all, and hugged her for all I was worth. And then we moved off the street.
Everyone looked like victims of a bombing - shell-shocked, crying, vacant and covered in dust, we shambled on up the street, walking on chunks of what used to be shops. The building I'd watched crumble had a corner still standing. It trembled and rattled like crockery in a cupboard when a big truck goes past. A man I didn't know saw this. "Get away from the building!", he yelled, but few people heard him. I added my voice to his and some people listened. A space cleared around its trajectory and we filed along the wrong side of the street to the intersection.
The mass of humanity there was beyond belief. A few cars were stuck in the middle, like bewildered islands in a sea of people. The river had risen in a muddy, silty beige ugliness, underneath a bridge that had erected its own barricade of pavement. It resembled a rug that someone has slipped on, creating a huge hump in the middle. I turned right and made for the bank of the river where there was some clear space for me to breathe.
I found other friends there, holding fruitless cellphones with hands that trembled. I looked around for other people I knew. I hugged everyone I recognised. I sat down. I stood up again. I lit another cigarette.
Water bubbled up through the ground and our shoes sank into the soggy grass. I found a relatively stable place but moved again when the first of the big aftershocks shook the earth again. I'd been standing by a small concrete pool which sloshed its waters out in huge crashing waves. Very tall buildings across the narrow street of Oxford Tce jiggled and swayed. I wondered if there was anywhere I could stand that was safe.
No one knew quite what to do or where to go next. Masses of people were beginning to cross the bridge further down, heading god knows where. Friends left me to go home because they could think of nothing else to do. I decided to follow suit while I still could, so I joined the line of town refugees and headed over the bridge.
Traffic on all the passable streets was gridlocked. I weaved through masses of people and cars down Worcester and Montreal streets. Outside St Elmo's Court a man in a vest was hoarsely warning people to stay away from the building, which had already been cracked and was still covered with scaffolding from the September quake. "For god's sake," he whisper-yelled, "can't they see the danger?" I crossed the street to the Dux and continued on.
Cashel St was awash with people making their way to the park. I ducked between them and nearly ran to my house, and was so relieved to see it still standing. My keys, of course, were in the office, but my cat was inside and all I could think about was how frightened she must be. The possibility that she could be hurt was an evil worm of a thought crawling through my brain, but I squashed it with action. Grabbing my recycling bin off the street, I jimmied open a window to the lounge and levered myself through the window, ignoring the cobwebs that clung to my coat. There's nothing like adrenaline and worry to combat the fear of spiders!
"Shadow!" I called desperately, once inside, ignoring the carnage that was my possessions smashed and scattered across the room. "Shadow! Shadow!" I went all through the house, crunching over broken things, negotiating fallen furniture. I found her finally under my bed. She was spooked but very happy to see me. I threw open both my doors and got us both outside.
I sat on the street for an age. Aftershocks continued to plague us; some of them were huge, and things continued to smash and rattle indoors. Traffic was three deep on the two lane street. I moved all the recycling bins onto the verge to give them room. It made me coldly, unreasonably angry to think that the rubbish truck guys had left them standing there, blocking the way. I guess I had to be angry at something, and it was easier than being angry with the earth itself.
After a while I ventured back inside to survey the actual damage. Walls and floors were buckled and bent, but the house still stood, so I grabbed a broom and began to sweep. Neighbours talked to me and used my toilet, which didn't flush, but was safer than theirs on the floor above. I swept, and I comforted my cat, and I still didn't cry.
At some point in the afternoon, I saw a man wandering around outside, looking lost. He had big dirty dreads in his hair and faded tattoos covering arms poking out of unkempt clothing. He wanted to use my phone. As he waited for his friend to answer, he shared his stories with me.
He had been with his wife, he said, and then had lost her. After, he was walking along the street amidst the carnage, walking with a police officer, when he suddenly told the cop to stop. The cop asked why. Dreaded dude reached down into some rubble and his hand touched another human hand. The cop asked him how he knew. He was clairvoyant, he said. The cop asked him how long he'd been clairvoyant. "A while", he said, "I dunno."
And right after it happened, he had been in the square. A woman he didn't know asked him for a hug. He hugged her. She asked him for another hug. He hugged her again. She asked him for another. (This story went on for quite a while). Eventually, he said he had to go and find his wife and he hugged her once more and left.
Dreaded guy didn't manage to raise his friend on the phone. He offered me some LSD and some marijuana before he left. I said no thanks, but would really like some nicotine. But cigarettes were the one thing he didn't have. I put on a patch instead.
That night, without power, sewerage or running water, my friendly neighbours having driven away, probably for good, I sat alone with a single candle that I cupped in my hand. I hadn't been able to raise anyone on my landline, and I felt lonely, alone and frightened. One of the aftershocks had prevented my back door from closing. The security latch barely reached across to hold it closed, and it left a big gaping gap. I ate half a tin of baked beans, cold. I wondered what I could, or should, do. There didn't seem to be anything, and so I did that.
Around ten, I finally spoke to a friendly voice when my friend Matt called me. My own voice must have betrayed how I was feeling, because he said he was coming over and bringing hot water for coffee. Also cigarettes. Mine were, of course, in my handbag at work, along with the rest of my essentials. I was desperate for a cigarette and had resorted to rolling up the residual tobacco from cigarette butts. Don't judge. Remember, smoking saved my life. If I hadn't gone for a cigarette at lunchtime, I probably wouldn't be here writing this.
He arrived some time later, having ninja-skilfully lied his way past the police cordons, and never have I been so glad to see anyone in my life. We drank coffee from plastic beakers (all clean coffee mugs had smashed, and there was no water to wash any dishes) and smoked cigarettes and just sat together, talking. It felt so good to finally have someone to hug me. Finally I was not the one taking care of others. I was the one being taken care of. It broke me down at last. I cried.
We slept, eventually, rolling with the aftershocks, just glad to be alive. In the morning, Matt pointed out the giant bow in my ceiling, the hump in my floor, and the way one wall tilted alarmingly away from the others. When the house started making scary creaking sounds, it was clear I could no longer stay there. Still, I resisted. Leaving my house spelt something that my mind, my independence and my sense of security could not accept. I was homeless.
I bawled like a baby as I shouldered my bag and Matt picked up Shadow and we walked out of the street. I blubbered all the way to his house, no doubt looking ugly as sin, but he bore with it and comforted me and got me to his place, which is where I am now. They have water and power and a toilet we're allowed to flush. Still I cry first thing each morning. My body feels like it weighs twice as much as it should, as if I've swallowed too much of that rubble that looked like polystyrene but wasn't. That rubble that concealed people that were alive one moment, and not the next.
Posted by Derf! on 17 December 2012 - 01:02 AM
I love you guys and gals. That should be more depressing to say, but fuck that. Y'all are in my cool book.
Posted by mickpotter on 27 February 2011 - 02:04 AM
I am hoping someone with experience with in ear monitor setups can give me their thoughts on setting up as follows. I read a few shows, back acts and play with a covers band. The covers band is normally working in confined stages, so the issue of guitar level Vs vocalist foldback often comes into play. A couple of the backing gigs are preferring iem, particuarly the pit gigs and those with a bit more profile. I am thinking of setting up as follows, as sometimes there is avion, sometimes not. Im thinking of running a balanced out from the Fractal Ultra to the stage box, for handling to foh, then a unbalanced to a rackmout line mixer, a monitor send with my monitor mix (no guitar) to a second channel in the rackmount line mixer, then the out of the line mixer to a Sennheiser 300 g3 monitor system. The idea of the line mixer is to submix before sending to the ears. Then if the gig has me doing BVs, I could bring my mic into the line mixer and send out to the stage box, yet control all my own balances. Wont split it up to the extent of avion, but will give me enough flexibility. Is anyone doing similar or has suggestions.
Appreciate your thoughts,
Posted by eulogy on 14 December 2010 - 12:07 PM
Posted by sixgunsound on 16 September 2004 - 08:53 PM
Hi, and welcome to Tab Discussion, the forum devoted to all of your tab questions, comments, concerns, and critisism.
What kind of posts belong in this forum?
Basically, any concerns about tabs on this site, tabs in general, and creation of tabs. If you want a certain tab to be included in the GTU database, your post belongs in Tab Request.
Who are you?
I'm one of the two Moderators in this forum. My name is James. I've only been moderator since September 16, 2004, so I'm pretty new. My sidekick in this forum is Superwinkie, also known as Sammy.
What does a Moderator do, anyway?
Well, in Tab Discussion Sammy and I try and keep the posts on topic and clean. That means no obscenities, racist comments, graphic pictures of an adult nature, or being mean. If you've ever been to the Discussion Forum, you've probably read the "Rules" pinned at the top of the forum. Those same rules apply here in addition to the "stay on topic" rule.
I found a post that isn't on topic, should I overreact?
No. Basically, off topic discussion will not be punished. However, it will be moved to the appropriate forum, or deleted if it doesn't fit anywhere at all. So stay on topic and make it easy for us!
I found a post that contains obscenities, racist comments, graphic pictures of an adult nature, or harassment. Should I be a responsible GTUer and report this post or PM a moderator?
Yes. It's good to see you're taking some initiative to keeping this forum, and all of GTU, a family site. If you see any of the aforementioned naughty posts, please report it immediately or PM Sammy or James, your moderators in Tab Discussion.
What should I do if I have a question or need clarification of these rules?
Well, you can start by sending me a PM (private message). I'm always more than happy to help. Sammy has a number of moderator jobs and is often very busy with his many duties. This makes it difficult to respond quickly to questions regarding Tab Discussion. Any questions regarding this FAQ should be send to me, James (sixgunsound).
Is that all?
Sure is. Hope you enjoy your stay in the greatest forum on GTU!
September 17, 2004
Posted by Herr Rararr on 14 April 2016 - 06:57 PM
Maybe it's worth pinning this thread (or creating a new one that's a bit more coherent), as somewhere for old users to say hi, and for those still active to welcome them back, fill in. Another idea I had is posting happy birthday threads for the old regulars - we're a vain bunch and I know for a fact people search the forums to see if they've been mentioned. there must be ways to grow back a little.
I got hit exceptionally hard by the news of Woggie, especially because of the time that had passed. We were never close, but we interacted. It was a combination of seeing how you grieved as a community and how connected we all were. It also shook me - I've wrestled a lot of demons in the past and it put my life into perspective, but it made me so sad because he was so clearly loved here - how bad was it that he felt no other choice? I don't mean to drag up old news, but it really affected me, to the point my wife noticed and then there was an awkward conversation.
Anyway, this is my mini love letter to GTU, to those remaining and to those who visit. I'm not on FB, I am on Twitter @cwellborne, I'll be round here regularly. I love you guys, not ironically, not sarcastically and sadly not drunkenly.
Oh, also, I'm in Chicago...needless to say, anyone visits or passes through, message me and I'd love to hang out. Unless it's Gavin, or Smashy. Actually, even then.