Rush, Rush

For Christmas 2006, my in-laws generously gave me a TEAC GF-350 Multi Music Player/CD Recorder. In layman’s terms, that just means that this fine device is able to copy vinyl lps onto cd. I am glad to have it, and use it regularly.

But there has been one problem. My mother-in-law has asked me to burn her record collection onto cd for her. Seeing as how she was instrumental in getting me my TEAC GF-350 Multi Music Player/CD Recorder, I could hardly say no. So now here I am, in my “study”, “enjoying” Cat Stevens’ 1970 LP Teaser and the Firecat.

Anyway, this record is emblematic of my mother-in-laws’ musical taste, as she was quite the aficionado of 1970s singer-songwriter soft rock. Throughout the past several months, I have been forced to listed to the likes of Jackson Browne, The Eagles, Livingston Taylor and Jonathan Edwards. But the worst so far has been this dude Tom Rush, who put out the absolutely terrible Ladies Love Outlaws in 1974. This dude is full of shit, as throughout the record he cops a completely unconvincing pose as some sort of wandering desperado. The worst track is “Hobo’s Mandolin”, in which Rush solemny accepts some dying drifter’s mandolin. I was hoping the mandolin would then come to life and kill hobo enemies, but instead it just serves as a way for Rush to once again romanticize an aspect of American culture he obviously knows nothing about. If Rush had been truly honest with himself, he’d have written a song about his A&R guy’s cocaine mirror instead.

Fuck you, Tom Rush. Your only good album was 2112.

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