Billy, Billy, Billy. Few rock stars outside of Adam Ant have experienced a worse decade. First, the utter flop of the Pumpkins’ Machina: The Machines of God — which tanked so hard you could hear the band split. Let us not forget your indie bowel-churn combo Zwan. Then came the galling drone of a poetry book — which, of course, no one bought. You know your Future Embrace falls short: “For a year now I have walked around with a secret, a secret I chose to keep. But now I want you to be among the first to know that I have made plans to renew and revive the Smashing Pumpkins. I want my band back, and my songs, and my dreams.” That’s what you — ever the pumpkin-headed thespian — burped in the Chicago Tribune recently. Oh please, not even raising dead Pumpkins can stifle such megalomania or resuscitate a career washed far, far down the shitter. Everyone is sorry. Everyone is indeed sorry for you.
Dustin Walsh writes about music for Metro Times. Send comments to [email protected].
