 Any time a white artist co-opts black music an angel in heaven dies. It’s no wonder, then, that Hall and Oates is Beelzebub’s favorite band.
This news may shock you to the point of barf but I assure you, it's true. There are many other Rock n’ Roll acts that sing Satan’s praises: Slayer, The Misfits, Soulja Boy, Ozzy Osborne. Lucifer can tell the difference between quality praise and musical brownnosing.
Sara Smile. She’s Gone. Maneater. Song titles, yes, mega hits, undoubtedly, but also snapshots. Snapshots of a time when pop music was flavored with soul, intimacy, and humanity. Snapshots of love and love lost, of making love, of love bringing clarity. Snapshots of lists; long lists written with golf pencils on the back of junk-mail envelopes, lists that, along with milk, butter, Liquid Drano, might also contain, your kiss.
When I heard that Hall and Oates would take to the road once more for their "Blue-Eyed Soul" tour, I knew that Satan and I had to be there. It was the perfect opportunity to relax; to enjoy some suds n' sounds with my tormentor, liege, and best friend.
Satan arrived early. I was in the bathroom, clad only in a towel. I was in the midst of shaving my chest, and when I looked up, there the Devil was, staring back at me in the mirror. He freaked the shit out of me!
“Do you think they’ll play Baby Come Back?” he asked. He was trying hard to sound evil.
“It’s one of their big hits, Master. I’m sure they will.”
“What about I Can’t Go For That?”
“Oh, definitely, Master.”
He wore a vintage Hall and Oates tee-shirt and faded, expensive-looking dungarees. Even though he was still in the demon realm and sealed behind the mirror-glass, I could smell his Stetson cologne. With his sexy frame and bad-boy image, Satan could be a real lady-killer!
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What sex with Hall and Oates might be like. |
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He was looking at me. He wanted to ask something, but if I said Sire, is there something you wish of me? he’d get all pissed off and say something like if I wished something of you, I’d command it! He'd then turn the razor I was holding into a snake or some shit like that. So I continued shaving my chest.
“I had an idea, Charles. Do you think it would be okay if I went to the concert and consumed the entire audience in the hellfire?”
The idea delighted me.
“Master, I think that is a wonderful idea. If I may make one small suggestion? Wait until the finale?”
***
The concert ruled, of course. I won’t spend time here reviewing it, because I paid $90 for both tickets, and you didn’t, and don’t want you mooching off of me.
On the third encore (the audience in frenzy the likes of which I have never seen!), Hall and Oates launched into Private Eyes. This is when Satan burned the audience to a crisp. Purplish flames consumed them. The arena filled with screams. Lesser demons descended from the rafters to feast upon the burning flesh.
Twelve #1 hits? You think they did that without Satan? Hall and Oates played with wild abandon as the smell of burning skin and hair filled their lungs, knowing that soon enough, the same fate would be theirs.
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