Okay, I can go with Tommy Shaw, but this song confirms Dennis DeYoung’s senility/insanity (first indicated by the song/album Mr. Roboto).
I am perhaps the world’s biggest Styx fan, but it is absolutely unacceptable that you even deigned to acknowledge the travesty that is Desert Moon with a reply.
I actually had the album. Along with Girls With Guns from Tommy Shaw.
I also owned a moog. And wore a wizard’s cap. And slaughtered rose bushes on instructions from a drum solo in Emerson Lake & Palmer’s “Karn Evil number 9, 3rd Impression.”
Like I said, Tommy Shaw is fine. Girls With Guns was the worst of his solo albums, but still head and shoulders over any of the garbage Dennis DeYoung put out.
Yeah, I know: taking Styx members and their post-Styx careers seriously is geekdom of the worst sort… I have no excuse. Even geeks consider me a geek they don’t want to hang out with.
You all are pathetic. Pathetic.
Okay, I can go with Tommy Shaw, but this song confirms Dennis DeYoung’s senility/insanity (first indicated by the song/album Mr. Roboto).
I am perhaps the world’s biggest Styx fan, but it is absolutely unacceptable that you even deigned to acknowledge the travesty that is Desert Moon with a reply.
A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-
I’ve got a gal in Kalamazoo.
Oops, wrong decade.
10,000 Maniacs?
Desert Moon? Bbbllllleeeeeeeeccccccchhhhhhhhhh!!!!!
I actually had the album. Along with Girls With Guns from Tommy Shaw.
I also owned a moog. And wore a wizard’s cap. And slaughtered rose bushes on instructions from a drum solo in Emerson Lake & Palmer’s “Karn Evil number 9, 3rd Impression.”
Like I said, Tommy Shaw is fine. Girls With Guns was the worst of his solo albums, but still head and shoulders over any of the garbage Dennis DeYoung put out.
Yeah, I know: taking Styx members and their post-Styx careers seriously is geekdom of the worst sort… I have no excuse. Even geeks consider me a geek they don’t want to hang out with.
OK, I’ll fess up, too. Owned Styx and Peter Frampton albums. Played “Lucky Man” on my Micro Moog over and over and….
There. I feel better already. Now I can go listen to my Cher CDs and feel good about myself. Doh!
Back it up a decade (or two?), and you’ve got the last train to Clarkesville.
Meet you at the station.
Pardon me, Roy, is that the cat that chewed your new shoes?
Perhaps Sheena (?Sp) Easton’s Morning Train. There was some truly terrible music in that decade, but she really looked good.