A touchdown is scored. Or a home run. A dramatic, fade-away three pointer. The crowd erupts, a simultaneous, mass, orgasmic euphoria. Then, just like in the movies, “Love Shack” beams through the loud speakers. What a world.
If my job in putting Greatest Sports Rock and Jams Volume 4 in its place was to make commentary on the songs themselves, it would be a long night. I could write volumes alone on Snow’s “Informer” or the BoDeans’ “Closer to Free.” Fortunately, I can spare my tirade at the good folks of K-Tel, the poor man’s Billboard and bastard cousin to Turner’s Colorized Classics. The problem: compilations are a strange breed. There usually tends to be a unifying theme, in this case, the adrenaline pumping rush of music to accompany sporting events. Fair enough. But if I gave you three songs, like Quiet Riot’s “Cum on Feel the Noize,” Corona’s “Rhythm of the Night,” and the Doobies’ “China Grove,” and asked you to place them on a disc and give them a sensible relationship, my guess is that you couldn’t do it. No cut on you, please understand. It can’t be done because it’s foolish?
The fault of this compilation, if I haven’t made the reason for my disdain clear, is that it makes no sense, particularly as the songs relate to one another, but also as individual entities. “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” much less the Nikki French cover, as a sports rock and jam? INXS’ “New Sensation, as a sports rock and jam? Am I missing something?
Apparently, because there’s two CDs and this is the fourth volume. I can’t wait to see Volume 8, what with Hall and Oates, Lil’ Kim, and The Alan Parsons Project just begging to be included. As a value on its own, sure, there are some guilty pleasures and even a few songs spread over two discs worth having. Just don’t look for a plot.
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