I try not to doxx myself too much in this widely-read rag, but—full disclosure—my birthday is in August, so I figured I’d use this month’s column to make a little wish list of acts I’d love to see in some gaudy, nostalgia-drenched, cash-grab reunion before I die. These are all groups where everyone is still alive, so if any of you are out there and reading this for some reason, make my dreams come true. Please and thank you.
Thanks to Coachella, there really isn’t any pop group under the sun that hasn’t done a blatantly financially-influenced reunion. A friend asked me which ’90s band I’d like to see reunited a while back, and we both realized they all already have. I’m also well aware that seeing a decades-older version of some ’80s alt legends is not going to be the same as seeing them in their prime. However, I think the following acts have been defunct for so long it would probably be worth the overpriced ticket and garbage stadium sound. Keep in mind this is also a wish list. Guaranteed, none of these reunions will ever actually happen, and I’ll explain why. But still, it’s my birthday, and a man can dream, right?
Everyone is still alive. They’re not too old. This is a possibility. Granted, if Talking Heads were gonna reunite, I would want the full post-1980 workout tape extravaganza, and without Bernie Worrell, that would be a little lackluster. The only other mind-blowing synth player I could think to realistically replace him would be Ikey Owens, and he’s dead too. Regardless, the four core cats are still kicking. David’s still performing anyway, and the songs are the songs, but it’s just not the same. A reunion like this could make Coachella worth the price of admission again, and they should do it before they’re all in their 80s. But alas, I do believe hell would freeze over first. David thinks he’s too good for Tina, Chris, and Jerry. "Miles apart musically," as he once put it. And although I haven’t read Chris’s recent memoir, Bob Lefsetz did an excellent interview with him about it (not that Lefsetz has ever done non-excellent interviews), and it sounds like David had a foot out the door since day one—or "day two really," as Chris put it. I just don’t see them realistically making up, but man, that would be a birthday wish come true.
Yes, I know Morrissey is an unapologetically insufferable twat, but let’s be real...we all, collectively, don’t care. It could be the consistency or the charm, but we’ve all just sort of accepted him and his many, many flaws. The rest of the band, however... And it’s such a shame because if they could just bear to stand next to each other on stage, they could conquer the world. Especially now. Try to convince me that every relevant rock band doesn’t have at least some connective thread back to The Smiths. You see kids in hardcore bands unironically wearing "Meat Is Murder" shirts. Literal mountains of cash are just being left on the table because Johnny Marr wouldn’t be caught dead in the same room as the mopey crooner. I also don’t blame Andy and Mike for not wanting anything to do with the other twats, since they were screwed out of most of their fair share of helping create one of the most iconic English bands of all time. Listen to the bass in "Barbarism Begins At Home" or the drums in "The Queen Is Dead." That’s worth a quarter of the royalties. If only Morrissey and Marr weren’t such stingy manks. But alas, such is the most common and unsexy reason for bands breaking up—e.g., Nirvana. (Yes, misogynistic Courtney haters, look it up. Your favorite heroin addict actually retroactively reallocated the songwriting credits after the success of Nevermind to give himself 75% of the royalties. That was the real end of Nirvana as a band.)
So, I could just go see Dead Kennedys sans Mr. Boucher, then go see Guantanamo School of Medicine and drink until the memory of the two concerts sorta blur together, but I would really, really love the opportunity to, at least once, see the classic lineup (Peligro, not Ted on drums). I mean, really, I’d love to go back in time to 1979 and see them at the Portland show where "Night Of The Living Rednecks" was recorded, but we haven’t invented time travel yet, which is stupid. Still, once again, everyone is alive and kicking. Unfortunately, (once again) due to creative differences—cough—royalty disputes, Ray, D.H., and Klaus probably want nothing to do with Jello and vice versa. However, if it ever happened, I would pay full price for this blatant nostalgia cash-in. Listen to The Hard Times Podcast interview with Jello Biafra, and they paint a pretty awesome picture of what it would be like. Instead of pretending to have any integrity, make it the glitziest, glammiest, obscenely profit-driven show imaginable with Jello walking out with a fur coat and a pimp cane. Just make it completely non-punk. Unfortunately, Eric is sticking to his guns, and I gotta respect him for that. He’s nothing if not consistent.
Before The Beatles were a cultural sensation, they were just a band. Now, they are neither. They are a product. I have no desire to see Paul McCartney play Beatles songs and "Live and Let Die" (does he even perform "Temporary Secretary?" Like what’s the point if he doesn’t?) I don’t even want to see Paul and Ringo play with projections of the dead ones on the backdrop of the stage. Just drop the pretense and give us the Pepsi-sponsored, Live Nation presents holographic extravaganza. The technology is there. It started with Holo Tupac at the 2012 Coachella, and now ABBA is hiding being youngified versions of themselves. Fuck it! Just give us the Disney ride! Honestly, I don’t even know if I’d wanna go back in time to the mid-’60s and see a 30-minute set of mostly covers in a baseball stadium. Maybe the Hamburg club shows. But, with holograms, you could just do a career-spanning extravaganza with the fab four magically morphing into each iconic era’s costuming. Big finish encore on the rooftop of hologram Apple Corps. Someone pay me for this idea.
