By Hans Morgenstern
By Joseph Hess
By Peter Gilstrap
By Julia Burch
By Jeremy Essig
By Nathan Smith
By Julie Seabaugh
By Julie Seabaugh
But while it's easy to take a swing at a band like Journey, why not find that little piece of your soul, unhardened by indie-rock elitism, and embrace it? Do so now, and you'll be just in time for its latest tour. Purists will contend that, since iconic lead singer Steve Perry and the rest of the group have acrimoniously gone their "Separate Ways" (ha!), this isn't the real Journey. Ignoring the naysayers, the band is using this tour to celebrate 30 years of Journey, so we thought it would be fitting to give our top 30 reasons why we love Journey. However, 30 is a big number and, well, it's only Journey. If Dennis DeYoung gets back together with Styx, we'd happily pull out all the stops. Until then, here are thirteen reasons to love Journey -- shamelessly and unironically.
13) In an effort to soften the blow of changing lead singers, Journey swapped one long-haired, high-voiced Steve (Perry) with another (Augeri).
12) Journey Escape, the 1982 Atari game that entrusted gamers with keeping band members safe from libidinous groupies and shady concert promoters
11) The band's tear-jerking episode of Behind the Music, wherein Perry bemoans his status as a pariah in the band he led
10) "Faithfully," a staple of all hoosier wedding receptions since 1983
9) Rodney Dangerfield's golf bag in Caddyshack, which blared "Any Way You Want It," to the dismay of the bluebloods on the golf course
8) The pseudo-Egyptian/cosmic-insect artwork on the band's LPs
7) Steve Perry's long, flowing hair and tight, tight pants
6) Founding members Neal Schon and Gregg Rolie formed Journey after leaving Santana, inadvertently paving the way for Carlos Santana's stunning late-'90s comeback -- oh wait, sorry, that's from the "Thirteen Reasons to Hate Journey" list.
5) The fact that you can hear a Journey gem every hour, on the hour, on KHITS [96.3 FM] and any other classic rock station
4) The roller-rink scene in Charlize Theron's Monster, making "Don't Stop Believin'" the official theme song of lesbian serial killers everywhere
1) Squeezin' -- Christian Schaeffer
An Honest Mistake
When the Bravery followed its ballyhooed South by Southwest appearance with the release of its debut disc, the backlash began. Wise witnesses saw hacks cashing in on a hip sound. But the group's detractors were so vitriolic that some misguided souls made appeals on the band's behalf, creating Bravery-backlash backlash. To give the group due process, we carefully considered the charges against these defendants.
Charge: Bravery vocalist Sam Endicott stands accused of shameless sandbagging.
Evidence: Endicott did time in a group called Skabba the Hut, where he sported blond dreadlocks, used the stage name "Chewskacca" and coined the tagline "Bust a Nut with Skabba the Hut." Assuming his newfound affection for '80s sounds is genuine (debatable, given its emergence at the peak of the retro movement's popularity), Endicott could have formed a geeky sci-fi outfit such as Aquabats or Epoxies without inciting ire. But there really is nothing more unfathomably lame than a horny, Star Wars-obsessed ska band.
In his defense: Endicott mercifully sat out the nü-metal movement.
Charge: The Bravery remains entangled in a ridiculous rivalry with the Killers.
Evidence: Apparently, the music world isn't big enough for two fashionable-yet-fetid keyboard-powered groups. The Killers' Brandon Flowers griped to MTV that the Bravery rode his coattails to success, adding, "People will see through them." Endicott sniped back, telling a San Francisco radio station, "I feel bad talking about him because it's like hitting a girl."
In the band's defense: If these two groups stage a battle -- with the loser agreeing to retirement -- and somehow duel their way to mutual destruction, they'll save the world from a future fraught with abysmal trend-hopping albums.
Charge: The Bravery's music sucks. Seriously, it could pull a cherry from the bottom of a whiskey sour through a stirring straw.
Evidence: Even though it merges elements of ABC, Dead Can Dance and Mooney Suzuki, the Bravery incorporates an almost-impressive array of aural atrocities: soul-bereft disco hi-hats, squealing solo-studded rawk and an amalgam between frilly ambience and fey grooves that begs the phrase "new-age-wave." Endicott's voice ranges from a moody processed croon to an annoyingly sassy yowl.
In the band's defense: There's some decent drumming on the record, though with two members credited with "programming" in the liner notes, it's hard to tell which percussive parts came from a keyboard.
Charge: The Bravery's lyrics make its music look masterful.
Evidence: Endicott's lyrics range from idiotic to banal, without an inspired exception. The following lines are his worst: "You put the broke in broken-hearted/You put the art in retarted" [sic]. They're chanted cheerleader-style, which is appropriate given that he swiped this wordplay gimmick from the pom-pom flick Bring It On.
In the band's defense: During the apologetically titled "An Honest Mistake," Endicott murmurs, "Sometimes I forget I'm still awake/I fuck up and say these things out loud." He's citing the Prince precedent ("I was dreaming when I wrote this"), apparently forgetting that this excuse remained valid only until the close of 1999.