After my run this afternoon I wanted to slip in a quick He-man session at the gym before dinner as it’s been well over a week since I’ve hit the heavy iron.  Lord knows I have about a zillion calories to burn off from thew weekend, not to mention the leftover turkey and stuffing sandwich I had for a late lunch.  Sue me.  Anyway, moving on, this evenings gym soundtrack is the ‘Bring it On‘  album by Gomez.


First of all, let’s be straight with one another, this has absolutely nothing to do with that runaway train wreck Kirsten Dunst movie from 2000 which, I’m sure then was a sure sign of the Y2K apocalypse that was so feared at the time.  Sorry honey, but it was that terrible and I’m sure it culled an entire decade off my life expectancy when you made me watch it one evening.

No, sir.

This is the debut album, from English blues rockers from Southport; basically the U.K.’s answer to the John Spencer Blues Explosion of which I am also a huge fan.

Unlike JSBX however, this isn’t amphetamine-fueled freak-out music but similar at times to Beck‘s acoustic-based work (in fact, it’s more like JSBX-light), with more going on vocally. The band has a total of three strong vocalists, who can switch from pretty harmonies to gutsy blues outpourings in the blink of an eye.  The band manages to cover a lot of ground convincingly on this album, which is unusual, since it commonly takes bands the course of a few releases to hone their sound.

The three British singles released from the album are definite highlights ‘Get Myself Arrested‘, ‘Whippin’ Piccadilly‘, and ‘78 Stone Wobble‘, the latter containing a beautifully haunting acoustic guitar riff similar to Nirvana’s unplugged version of the Meat Puppets’ ‘Plateau‘.  All the praise that Gomez’s debut received is definitely not hype. The album is consistently great, as proven by such tracks as ‘Tijuana Lady‘, ‘Love Is Better Than a Warm Trombone‘ and my favorite, ‘Get Miles‘, which is a frequent inclusion on my “tough guy” spin playlists – especially whilst climbing out of the saddle.

It’s clear it’s been two weeks since I’ve hit the weights.  Everything felt, well, tender and weak.  However, it was also clear I missed it too.  I like the solo me-on-me time in front of a mirror and since it’s still relatively slow at the gym, I can get in an entire workout in with minimal interference (read that as:  no douche tools monopolizing the machines while texting and taking selfies).


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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