#the upper crust

[itneedsmoargayz]

Classic Cartoon Network creators really had a habit of inserting real-life rock songs they liked into their shows.

[dearyallfrommatt]

"Let Them Eat Rock"

The Upper Crust. This Boston band's shtick was that they were 17th Century aristocratic fops who played AC\DC-inspired butt rock. They did it live, too, and it was glorious. They used funny names, of course, and that guy singing called himself Lord Bendover. He’d go on to write policy papers in Clinton’s second term. Make your own jokes there.

[vinylspinning]

The Upper Crust: The Decline & Fall of The Upper Crust (1997)

As former King Emperor Trump would often bleat, these are dark times for the genteel classes: their Divine Right to unmitigated wealth, abusive power and moral decrepitude having come under fire by the ill-bred, unwashed, democratically-deluded working classes.

Forsooth, among other liberal absurdities, les pauvres and their liberal bourgeois allies have even dared suggest that noble, highborn lords like The Upper Crust should pay almost as much in taxes as they -- why, the nerve!

Luckily, from their elevated (ad)vantage point atop stately chateau stages, singer and guitarist Lord Bendover, lead guitarist The Duc D’istortion, bassist Count Bassie, drummer Jackie Kickassis, plus dearly departed guitarist and singer Lord Rockingham, can always bring Le Rocque!

So, after throwing their own debutante ball with 1995’s simply splendid Let them Eat Rock, our esteemed gentlemen returned, resplendent and refreshed, for their no doubt ironically named seconde recorde, ‘97’s The Decline & Fall of the Upper Crust.

Hear them promote the finer things in life, once again, with elegant fare like “Cream of the Crust,” “Boudoir,” “Versailles” and the ever-tasteful “Beauty Spot,” wherein Lord Bendover attests to the miraculous benefits of accoutrements like a fur-lined glove or powdered wig:

“Ladies and gentlemen of the audience ... This is a message from The Upper Crust. You too can be beautiful, it's really simple. Just go out to your local cosmetics store, Bring out your purse and buy a small beauty marker. Take the marker and put a mark or two upon your face, And ladies and gentlemen, you will be beautiful!”

Really, it’s the least you can do, you lazy, unkempt slobs -- have you no respect for yourselves? Conversely, our normally discreet, well-heeled royalists also share some cautionary tales, ranging from the delightfully ribald “Tell Mother I’m Home,” to the deliciously risqué “Vulgar Tongue,” to the unsubstantiated slights of “Persona non Grata” ... and you may rest assured, dear sir, that a valet will presently deliver a formal challenge to a duel!

Finally, impeccably mannered aristocrats that they are, The Upper Crust insist on paying their cordial respects to Le Cheap Trick with “Gold-Plated Radio” (recorded at Tokyo’s Budokan Manor), and to messieurs Young, Young & Scott (of those immaculately tailored, uniformed school boys, AC$DC) with faux-rebellious novellas like “Rabble Rouser” and “Ne’er-Do-Well.”

All of the above allowed The Decline & Fall of The Upper Crust to enjoy most gracious favor in the courts, boutiques and salons of public opinion upon its unveiling ... not that the public’s opinion matters a lick out of a piss-boy’s bucket, of course!

Alas, given the aforementioned, distressing corrosion of traditional class hierarchies and increased resistance to The Upper Crust’s follow-up recordes of Maréchal stack-amplified Rocque and Roll, perhaps milords should simply be grateful that no one’s yet shouted “Off with their heads!”

p.s. -- To learn more about The Upper Crust’s glorious history, pray attend to this most excellent documentary.

More All-Time Legendary Groups: Barnes & Barnes’ Voobaha, Dread Zeppelin’s Un-Led-Ed, The Fugs' Golden Filth (At Last, Alive at the Filmore East), Ruben and The Jets’ Cruising with Ruben and The Jets, Spinal Tap’s Shark Sandwich, Steel Panther’s All You can Eat, Tenacious D’s Tenacious D. 

[whatsthesound]

When Chilton met the Gories Gore

Source suggests this may have taken during same trip that took Alex to New York, as heard in last post.

[alexherrerv]

[thedept]

I inexplicably love this band, who play music that sounds like old AC/DC while dressed as British aristocratic fops with lyrics that match their visual image.

And they’re back and playing in NYC in 2 weeks.

[vinylspinning]

Marseille: Red, White and Slightly Blue (1978)

Marseille, from Liverpool, England, were one of those bands who couldn’t seem to get out of their own way.

Formed in 1976 by singer Paul Dale, guitarists Neil Buchanan and Andy Charters, bassist (and ready-made Spinal Tap character) Steve Dinwoodie, and drummer Keith Knowles, the group won a “UK Battle of the Bands” contest in ‘77 that was held at Wembley Arena, and judged by -- get this -- Queen’s Brian May and Roger Taylor!

But not even this impressive brush with rock royalty (well, that pun wrote itself ...) was enough to give Marseille a career boost, because the band wound up signed to a nothing indie label called Mountain, and then things got really fucking weird ...

In his Collector’s Guide to Heavy Metal, Volume I: The Seventies, Martin Popoff explained that copies of the band’s first album, Red, White and Slightly Blue, had already been pressed when its release plans were scrapped and the band decided to head back into the studio, so existing copies were later given away as a freebie, along with the group’s self-titled second LP from ‘79.

And I’ll tell you exactly why they were scrapped: this first album paints Marseille as late-to-the-party punk rockers, as evidenced by its sub-Bollocks “production” and snotty vocals adorning “Diet Pistols” fare like “No Time to Lose,” “Dear Doctor” and “Not Tonight, Josephine.”

Heaven only knows why the band thought it clever to pen lyrics about French clichés (“Can Can,” “The French Way”) or juvenile sexism (“She Gives Me Hell,” “Men’s Lib,” “Lolita”), but they all suggest an immature bunch of nitwits, in any case.

There’s also a song about a gigolo, “Percival,” that sounds like a parody by The Upper Crust, another about motherly love called, errr, “Motherly Love,” and a shockingly half-decent ballad in “I Felt No Pain,” but the entire LP indeed feels like the musical abortion it proved to be.

So maybe we should give Marseille a break since they recognized this and switched gears to embrace a more timeless brand of Anglo-melodic hard rock à la UFO for that self-titled second album, which was still nothing to write home about, but certainly better than this mockery of an LP.

More Marseille: Marseille.

[bouquinteim]

the upper crust BACK on streaming my day is complete