by Casey Rea
Gotta head into the office in a minute or two. It's gonna be a fairly busy Monday. But I gotta get something off my chest.
I've always kinda despised the band Boston. My reasons are both simple and complex, as is the case with a lot of music that rubs me the wrong way. There's definitely a love/hate aspect in this instance. I remember being 16 years old and almost buying [Boston guitarist] Tom Scholz' Rockman Distortion Generator (he actually designed it himself, which I still respect) because I thought he had cool tone. It must've been the weed.
On the other hand, Boston represented everything wrong about '70s "corporate rock" that the punk movement rightfully sought to destroy. I don't put the blame entirely on the band -- it was more a case of tighter formatting for FM radio, and the realization that super-slick, three-minute rock cuts moved more units. Either by accident or design, Boston's arrival coincided with the end of the era of free-form, WKRP-style broadcasting.
It's tough for me to turn against a fellow studio geek like Scholz; part of me has great admiration for a guy willing to spend eight years on an album because he was disappointed with the sound of the last one. Especially considering said LP went double-platinum. But if I have to hear "More Than a Feeling" one more time, I'm gonna take a radio station hostage like in that movie.
So why did I choose today to bitch about Boston? Because lead singer Brad Delp died last week. Frankly, my chief concern upon learning the news was that I'd have to hear them on the radio every time I got in the car. Which is the only time I listen.
But there's more to the story. Delp, 55, was by all accounts a really sweet guy. He just wasn't cut out for the business. And that's likely why he took his own life via carbon monoxide poisoning in a bathroom in his New Hampshire home.
On a brighter note, I started recording a metal-ish tune this weekend, and I'm getting married on Saturday. I guess it's a Lion King cycle-of-life thing.