Thursday, March 12, 2009

Somethings just need to be sacred...

Last night I had this weird, uneasy feeling.."a disturbance in The Force..." as Obiwan would say.

I had retreated to our bedroom to watch t.v., while the rest of my family watched American Idol in the living room. I don't really get into that show anymore and since it seems to come on every night, I've taken to the sanctity of the bedroom to watch something of my own choosing.

It struck me all at once and I had heard my youngest squeal something about "loving Carrie Underwood's new song, " but paid it very little attention....until....

my husband snatched open the bedroom door...

"That's just WRONG!" he exclaimed..."just wrong!"

"What?!" I responded, startled, but certain an explaination was soon to follow

"Carrie Underwood singing Home Sweet Home!"

I gasped! "You are joking!"

As a heavy-metal, head-banger from way back, I couldn't quite put my head around that one. Home Sweet Home is my undisputed favorite power ballad. Everyone knows how I dislike remakes (with only a handful of notable exceptions) and how they never compare to the original.

On the drive into work today, my favorite radio duo, Rick and Bubba, fellow children of the 80's, were musing the exact same conundrum.

Then they played her version. It wasn't bad, but it also wasn't The Crue.
It reminded me of listening to my favorite song redone by Muzak or Conway Twitty.
They played Motley Crue's version in the same segment, but the damage was already done.

I feel kinda like I'm walking around in only one high-heeled shoe....not quite right. I want to like it, but those hair-band roots run deep. Was Carrie Underwood even born then?
Is nothing sacred? Can't 80's music be off limits?

I will let you decide for yourself which might be better

The original

Carrie's version

I remember first seeing Motley Crue at a record store where they were signing copies of their single "Too Young to Fall in Love." Me and a well-endowed friend got free tickets to that night's concert because she flashed Vince Neil.

The Crue wasn't the only hair band I followed: I first saw KISS when I was about 10 and then rocked with them again later on their sold-out reunion tour. I had fought my way to the front row to see Ratt, Cinderella,Warrant and even praised the Lord to the heavy-metal stylings of Stryper. I was lucky enough to see Bon Jovi for the first time on the front row thanks to the father of a wealthy college chum who bought out the right side for her birthday and saw Def Leppard everytime their feet touched Alabama soil. I even possess a Rikki Rockett drum stick, handed to me by a guy in sunglasses and a dirty t-shirt. I learned, 20 years too late, that that was a "special" backstage pass, handed out to ladies that caught the Poision drummer's eye. (Well, I WAS having a good big-hair day at that concert).

Though I hung up my leather and lace a long time ago, every now and again I relive those glory the safety of my enclosed car.

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