All the critics loved Indonesian action movie The Raid. Listen to them bleat...
"Remember your first time with Hard Boiled? Die Hard? This is how it's done - a clean, hard, constant hit of adrenalin." (Empire)
"High octane excitement from start to finish." (5 Live)
"You have never seen anything this AWESOME." (Twitch Film.)
Even the normally reserved Peter Bradshaw at the Grauniad chimes in with...
"The Raid is completely deranged - and completely superb."
Blimey!
Now, I hate to be the voice of 'meh' in all this, but...
I just don't get it. It's a nice enough premise (and one that suits a city as lawless as Jakarta is painted - not sure how they'll explain the inevitable Hollywood remake): a tower block full of criminals in the worst part of town is targeted by a rogue SWAT team, and a shoot-em-up / kick-boxing bloodbath ensues. However... and this may just be me... but once you've seen 5 chop-sockey pummelings in a row, you start to feel a little... well, pummeled... yourself.
The comparison with the godfather of all action movies only goes so far as "they're both set in a tall building". What Die Hard had... and The Raid palpably doesn't... is a charismatic hero, a superbly arch pantomime baddy, good jokes (to break up the fight scenes) and heart-stopping tension. It's not a bad film, and Welsh director Gareth Evans gives it his all, but in the end there's little more to be found here than one fight scene after another after another after another after another. After another. If that's all you're looking for... then go join the critics.
We're still up in space... but before we visit any more planets, here's a few songs about the men and women who might be making the journey alongside us.
If you remember the 30 second jeans ad that made this song a hit, you might remember being rather confused on hearing the full-length version. The rest of the song sounds very different to the bit everybody knows. Watching the video again, I can't help but conclude that Jas Mann was a bit of a git: and his lyrics are pretentious drivel (please stop listening before you get to the "intergalactic Christ" bit). Still, it was a moment in time.
See, I was about to type, "ah, Drugstore... whatever happened...?" until a little birdie told me the band recently got back together and released their first album in almost a decade. Further investigation is required...
I'm always kidding on about going to Mars for the day But faced with the reality of it, in a dream, I was terrified.
And it wasn't going to be like a moon trip There was three of us going, but we couldn't all go on the same ship We had to go one at a time with a day between us.
The other two astronauts were going to be my dad and my sister And my dad would come first after me So I decided when I landed I would just stay in my seat until he got there And then we could get out together and have a look around And see what sort of things were there.
Whatever else you might think about Brandon Flowers, you've got to give him some credit for wearing the outfit he wears in this video. He looks kinda like Mister Sinister from The X-Men. If I were his dad...
"You're not going out wearing that in public, are you, lad?"
Of course, it wasn't men or women who went into space first - it was the animals. (We'll have more of them in my Top Ten Astronaut Song list next week.)
I have come to the conclusion that the best Patti Smith songs (with the exception of the one co-written by Bruce) are the ones where she sounds like the kind of insane, rambling lunatic you might meet in the street and give all your change to just to make her go away. This is a prime example.
Not only has it got Phil Oakey on vocals - it's got Jarvis Cocker on lyrics! Sheffield's finest musical sons (well, two of them), together at last.
Darling, come quick - I can see our house from here!
1. Spiritualized - Ladies & Gentleman, We Are Floating In Space
Perhaps not an obvious choice for Number One on this particular Top Ten (though it was inevitable it'd turn up somewhere on my trip)... until you remember that the man behind Spiritualized is called J. Spaceman. After that: it's perfect.
As I said, next week is Astronaut Songs. But first - which musical Spaceman would you want to be trapped in a capsule with?
Last night, I dreamt my mum told me that radio and TV presenter Zoe Ball was 80 years old. "Don't be silly," I replied, but she insisted. She'd heard it on the radio so it must be true.
"But, Mum," I told her, "Zoe Ball's married to Fatboy Slim. He was a teenager when he was in the Housemartins - so he's probably just a few years older than me. Why would he be married to an 80 year old woman?"
"What's wrong with 80 year old women?" asked my mum. (She's 83.)
So I went off to investigate... but nowhere online could I find anything to confirm Zoe's real age. However, during my search I did discover that her dad, my childhood TV hero Johnny 'Think of a Number' Ball, was now 116 years old... which led me to believe there may be some truth to my mum's story.
In fact, so convinced was I of the veracity of this dream that I had to google Zoe Ball when I woke up, just to double-check. Turns out she's 41. Which is good, because I'd have been most upset if she'd been younger than me.
Anyway, enough of my dreams. I'm off back to the BBC website to watch Tony Blair accused of war crimes again. Video of the day!
My old mate Sam Johnson has recently premiered his new comic The Almighties, a timely, action-packed spoof of a certain other A-rated superteam doing the rounds at the moment. Here's Sam to tell you a little more...
Just in time for THAT movie - Almighties Amass!
Nick Fury is currently assembling Earth’s Mightiest Heroes in the Avengers movie – but what if a more questionable character put together his own skewed take on the world’s greatest super-team…or just threw together whoever was available?
The enigmatic White Out has amassed a dysfunctional bunch of heroes to take down ‘threats to America’ - sending them on missions that have comedic nods to all the big Marvel events of recent years – from Civil War to Fear Itself. But these aren’t your momma’s super-heroes and things aren’t quite as they seem…
“The Almighties brings together creations from myself and co-scripter Mike Gagnon,” says the comic’s other writer Sam Johnson (creator of Geek-Girl and Cabra Cini: Voodoo Junkie Hitwoman). “But while that other super-team are the best that could be assembled, brought together to take on threats that no single hero could withstand – things are a bit more…offbeat here.” Johnson continues, “The guy that hires them - White Out – is a little wacky, aided as he is by a lobotomized butler with a tray of Pimm’s – and he has a personal agenda. So there are factors at play in whom he’s amassed that don’t necessarily make for the most heroic of super-teams. For example, one of them – Nite Fang – whom Johnson & Gagnon bill as ‘our Hulk’ - is a cocky British punk/werewolf who’s here purely for the pay check; another - Mason - is a borderline-psycho merc, and another - Stefanos – billed as ‘our Wolverine’ - is seemingly just a guy that runs a kebab shop - armed with his donor kebab on a skewer!
Not all members of the team are total misfits, though, Johnson and Gagnon bill their field leader - Maxi-Tron - and female member Ms. F - as ‘our Iron Man and Ms. Marvel.’ But like those heroes, these two are also flawed. Only more so.
Johnson fills us in: “Maxi has Tony Stark’s ego dialed up to 11 and is more self-centered than it’s healthy to be when your life and the lives of your team-mates are on the line, and Ms. F has just broken free of her oppressive marriage and has anger issues coming out of that. Anger issues she’s gonna take out on crime!”
“This comic has been created by a talented group of creators who are also big comic book fans,” adds co-scripter Mike Gagnon. “It’s all done in good natured humor, and with all the dark and serious stories being told in comic books, I think this book is important because it reminds people that comics can be fun.”
With the motley crew amassed, you can expect offbeat action, adventure, comedy, testicular cancer, Nazi Robots, and plenty more – all illustrated by hot team of up-and-coming artists Eleonora Kortsarz, Pablo Zambrano and D.C. White - in The Almighties #1; out now in $3.99 regular, $2.99 digital and Limited Avengers movie poster-parody Variant editions; 32 pages, full color, rated Teen+ published by Actuality Press and available to purchase at www.thealmighties.com where you can also check out free-to-read Almighties Origins!
The Almighties gets my wholehearted recommendation, so pop over to their website and find out more right now.
Last episodes are always tricky things to get right. There are certain fundamental elements the audience wants, expects, demands. And top of that list is a happy ending. We've lived with these characters, followed their adventures... laughed, cried, got angry and shared every other emotion with them... for eight whole years. If we're never going to see them again, we want to know they're riding off into the sunset, that they've finally found happiness.
The problem with a character, and a show, like House is that its basic philosophy goes against all that. In real life, House always reminds us, for some people at least, there are no happy endings. They've made a big point of that over the last eight seasons. Just when you thought you knew where a story was going, they always managed to pull the rug out from under you. That's the nature of good detective fiction (a genre which House has always belonged to - don't let anyone kid you it's a medical drama): there has to be a twist at the end that you didn't see coming. So much of the storytelling in this show is built upon dramatic irony... so when House's best / only friend Wilson was revealed as an oncologist dying of the very disease he's been helping people deal with throughout his entire medical career, it would have been a huge cop out to have House cure him. Even though House cures everything!
So Wilson had to die. And House had to either find another reason to go on living... or follow / precede his friend to the grave. Because the only other option would be to give in to sentimentality, and this is a show that has fought sentimentality at every available opportunity.
That's why I thought they'd actually killed him. Even though I knew they couldn't. Despite the fact that it was the last ever episode, despite the fact they'd titled it "Everyone Dies", despite the fact that it would have been the ultimate dramatic irony: the final lesson House learns for definite - there are no happy endings. Just like he'd been telling everyone all along.
In the end though, it would have been a colossal bummer to end the show like that. So they found a way to have their cake and eat it. House dies, he loses / sacrifices the only thing that gave his life meaning. And yet he lives. Why? Because the world's biggest misanthrope cares more about his best friend than he does himself. So House and Wilson get to ride off into the sunset after all... not a happy ending if you dwell on it, but for that one perfect moment, exactly what they - and we - needed.
Goodbye then, Gregory House M.D. I'll miss you, you cantankerous old bastard.
Hey, I never said my journey into outer space was going to take me in a straight line. From Mars, we slingshot back round Earth to our other nearest neighbour, the one a little closer to the sun. Things are hotting up, although the Venus we'll be hearing about through most of this list is a hot, heavenly goddess rather than a big blue rock surrounded by carbon dioxide and sulphuric acid...
A wonderfully relaxing slice of slowcore Mormon rock about a girl who's fed up with everything, from her friends to her make-up. One for the chill-out tent...
An actor who became a pop star. A Eurovision loser. A cheesy 60's crooner. Why am I so much more forgiving of Mark Wynter than I would be his 21st Century counterparts?
While Sam Cooke pleaded with Cupid to draw back his bow, Frankie Avalon sent his romantic prayers straight to the Roman goddess of love. Did either answer?
The epic closing track from my local poet laureate's debut (and to date, sadly, only) album, this finds Simon Armitage, his mate and his missus, crafting lyrical images that would make Morrissey green with envy. If you don't own this record, do yourself a favour...
At the height of the season In a laughable blouse Came in a suitcase and laughed at my house
Or, if you insist, this version... because I'm a child of the 80s; I'm not proud. (Plus, the video looks like Meat Loaf might stroll in at any second.)
Those were my Venus votes... but which is your goddess on the mountain top?
On exiting Sacha Baron Cohen's The Dictator, I decided to play a little Generation Game memory test, recalling as many of the broken taboos that had trundled past me during the previous hour and a half on this Conveyor Belt of Wrong...
Terrorism Murder Rape Suicide Bombing Torture Childbirth Racism Sexism Capitalism Communism Liberalism Feminism Homophobia Disability Masturbation Blow Jobs Defecation Urination Nuclear War Megan Fox Death*
Truly, there are no sacred cows in Sacha Baron Cohen's world: any subject is a suitable target for either satire or flat-out farce. Of course, Cohen and director Larry Charles would no doubt argue they're not making jokes about any of the sensitive issues above... they're making jokes about people's attitudes to them. Which is a very fine line to tread.
But none of that's for me to argue. The only question that mattered to me was this: Is it funny?
And, yes, I found The Dictator a very funny film.
Your own mileage may vary.
(*It occurs to me that this list may have a wonderful effect on my SEO rankings. But I guess that just goes to show the world's as screwed as Sacha Baron Cohen thinks it is... and if so, what else have we got left but to laugh?)
Over the 30+ years I've been reading comics, Grant Morrison has written some of my all-time favourites. Animal Man, Doom Patrol, The Invisibles, Arkham Asylum, All Star Superman... books I'd hold up among the best the medium has to offer. He's also written a fair few books I just didn't get, a smattering that disappeared (albeit with sporadic enjoyment) up their own backsides, and some that left me completely cold. Nothing I absolutely hated though, and I've long found the "Grant Morrison" persona to be among the most fascinating and insane of comic book creator caricatures. Where "Stan Lee" is your favourite uncle as a carnival barker and "Alan Moore" is the grumpy (and slightly pervy) old wizard you don't want to get on the wrong side of, "Grant Morrison" is the rock star cum Cuckoo's Nest escapee who's done a few too many mind-altering substances to the point where he actually believes he might be a superhero. A superhero with the power of writing. Isn't that the power we all dreamed of?
Supergods is, ostensibly, Morrison's history of the superhero comic. Unlike many such books, it's highly subjective... and because Morrison's comic book tastes often differ wildly from my own, I often found myself taking his facts-as-opinions with a pinch of salt, or else flat-out disagreeing. There's a strong DC-bias to his writing, partly because these were largely the comics he grew up on, partly because he's had some negative experiences with Marvel management over the years, and partly because DC are currently paying his bills. Plus, he's got more time for the cosmic madness Jack Kirby brought to comics in the 60s than the everyman quality that made me a lifelong True Believer of Stan Lee...
"And yet there was something I didn't like about the Marvel superheroes. Those characters seemed constantly angry and weird, and I found stories of conflict between heroes exhausting. Spider-Man's stressy life was a bit too grown-up, it seemed."
Yet despite our many differences, we both love comics and believe wholeheartedly in the transformative potential of the medium. Once I accepted Morrison's subjective opinions, there was much to enjoy in this larger than life tome. There's a wonderful mix of creative, character and industry back-story alongside personal anecdote, and it's good that Morrison doesn't tread the same old ground as previous historians. He's attempting to build a sociological history of the medium which is sometimes incisive and occasionally insane, but never less than entertaining. Those unfamiliar with the writer's unique world view might not be prepared for his psychedelic 90s adventures in which he creates a comic as a magic spell with the express intention of living a superhero lifestyle... only to go off the deep end when his face is attacked by flesh-eating bacteria and he finds himself face-to-face with 4th dimensional aliens who reveal to him the ancient secrets of our universe. At this point the narrative becomes more "fictional" autobiography than historical tract but as the rest of the comics industry went through its artistic nadir in the 90s, it's a welcome distraction. I still remember an interview with Morrison at the time, when it was suggested that perhaps his other-dimensional experiences might be nothing more than the result of all the mind-altering substances he was taking at that time. "I can see why you might think that," went his reply (paraphrased from memory), "but you'd be seriously mistaken."
There's much to relish here: from the writer's iconoclastic needling of Alan Moore to barbed comments about his estranged pal, Mark Millar. And despite all the Comic Book Books I've read before, I still learnt a few new things (Namor is Roman backwards!) That Supergods becomes less about the medium and more about the messenger is perhaps inevitable. In his own way, Grant Morrison is as unbelievably larger-than-life as Superman, Batman, The X-Men or any of the iconic characters he's tackled over the years. As long as nobody takes his opinionated ramblings as gospel, it's all good... but hopefully, the 4th Dimensional aliens should make sure of this.
Somebody please take Wayne Coyne to Mars before he puts anymore heads in jars. Taken from the album In a Priest Driven Ambulance (With Silver Sunshine Stares), this was allegedly inspired by the Can song Mushroom. Or maybe just some mushrooms.
OK, so it might not be the planet... but it does help Feargal work, rest and play. And it's a perfect reminder of how supremely ACE The Undertones were.
Look, it may be a godawful small affair, but Bowie's already had one Number One on this journey and I very much doubt it's the last we'll hear from him. Let's give someone else a chance at the top position...
1. John Grant - Marz
John Grant's spelling might need a little work, but his songwriting is out of this world.
Golden champagne juicy grapefruit lucky Monday High school footall hot fudge buffalo tulip sundae Almond caramel frappe pineapple rootbeer Black and white pennyapple Henry Ford sweetheart maple tea
So. Those were my favourite Martians... what are yours?
My movie-making pals over at Special Order 937 have completed their masterpiece, Apocalypse Girl - a 10 minute shot of dark, druggy, nihilistic depravity that's definitely NSFW or those with weak stomachs / easily offended moralities. Have no fear, Apocalypse Girl is here... god help us all.
My old pal and comic collaborator Rob Wells has recently put out another excellent collection of humour strips from his Crisp Biscuit Blog. Included in this issue...
The Green C**k Ring's Final Crisis!
The True Story of Christmas!
The return of Jack Bowser in Twenty-Bore!
Whatever Happened To The TV Stars of Our Youth?
Halloween at Rob's house.
Michael J. Fox IS Stuart Little.
And some X-Factor spoofs I don't really get (being that I hate The X-Factor) but I'm led to believe are very funny if you did watch it.
All this for just £2.50 - a bargain at twice the price!
To pick up a copy, along with Crisp Biscuit #1 and the new full-colour edition of Colin Comix (featuring more Jack Bowser AND Cecelia Doom!), get on over to the Crisp Biscuit Shop now. Tell him I sent you.
The Secret Speech was a disappointing, though still entertaining, sequel.
It's a good job Agent 6 was the final book in the series because I wouldn't have bought any more. I skim-read this one and still found it over-written, rambling and self-indulgent. Tom Rob Smith has let the research take over, desperate to shoehorn his hero into every significant moment in 20th Century Russian history, somehow forgetting how to plot an exciting thriller along the way.
I was a huge fan of David Guterson's previous books, Snow Falling On Cedars, Our Lady Of The Forest and East Of The Mountain... but this one left me cold. The plot itself was intriguing and the relationship between the central characters had potential. But, just like Tom Rob Smith above, Guterson kept getting off the point until I lost all interest in finding out why the narrator's old schoolmate had gone off to live in the woods (a la Thoreau) before dying and leaving our hero a fortune in his will.
Excellent character writing but a series of very loosely connected vignettes does not a novel make. I'd much rather have read the continuing adventures of Sasha, the first chapter's kleptomaniac heroine, than any of the smug, privileged bores who follow her. If Sasha returned later in the novel, I stopped caring by the time the safari went bad.
Of course, I could be wrong about any of the above. Perhaps you read them and found them far more entertaining? Feel free to disagree.
OK, let's get back into space after last week's unrelated diversion... and where's the first stop on our journey?
There are far too many songs about the big blue cheese button to narrow down a Top Ten Moon Songs... so instead, here's 10 solely about taking a trip there.
I vomited throughout your saxophone solo, sings Gruff Rhys, to whom I'm not sure. It's enough to make him want to leave the planet and set up his home Space 1999 style on Moonbase Alpha.
How much more I enjoyed watching The Avengers in 2D rather than through the mud and blur and migraine of threedy. I felt like a partially sighted man suddenly given the gift of 20/20 vision. "Look at how beautiful it all is!" I cried at the cinema screen. "The colours so bright and vivid, the action distinctive, the background detail actually visible... I can see - I CAN SEE!"
In truth, The Avengers looks no better or worse than any other big screen FX fest. Unless you watch it in 3D... when it looks just as bad as every other big screen 3D FX fest. I couldn't help thinking of those adverts in which terribly earnest thesps like Ray "Cant" Winstone or Tim from The Office (you might know him as Dr. Watson or The Hobbit, but he'll always be Tim from The Office to me) encourage us not to download badly pirated movies from t'internet because not only are we damaging the film industry, but "the picture quality is rubbish". And yet (not that I've ever downloaded any badly pirated movies from t'internet), I imagine that'd still be preferable to watching said movies in 3D. But...
...enough about all that. What about the newly crowned BIGGEST OPENING WEEKEND EVER movie, the superhero blockbuster even the most churlish of critics are lauding (with the exception of Philip French's wonderfully pompous review in The Observer, which begins thus...
"Unhappy the land that has no heroes!" someone remarks to Bertolt Brecht's Galileo. "No. Unhappy the land that needs heroes," Galileo replies.
...and you can guess the rest); what about The Avengers? Is it any cop?
Well, yes. It's not an unqualified success, but it does the job far better than it might have... if not quite as well as I'd hoped. All the main characters are well-handled, although it's new-boy Mark Ruffalo who really shines as the most likeable Bruce Banner since Bill Bixby's David and a more enjoyable Hulk to boot. Robert Downey Jr's insistence on throwing away some of his best lines continues from Iron Man 2; Chris Evans brings flashes of nobility to the otherwise faintly ridiculous Captain America; and Chris Hemsworth's Thor faces real competition from his half-brother Loki, with Tom Hiddleston almost stealing the movie after a somewhat muted performance first time out. (I love his Loki-grin.) Scarlett Johansson is slightly less annoying than she was in Iron Man 2 and a whole lot less annoying than she is in anything else and Jeremy Renner rather draws the short arrow as a mindwashed Hawkeye stolen from the first half and given little development as a result.
The script has some nice visual gags and typically Whedon one-liners (when RDJ's goatee isn't fast-talking them into inaudibility) and the fanboys will be happy to see that virtually every character gets the chance to go one-on-one up against each other. Best are the scenes where someone faces off against the aforementioned God of Mischief... Fury vs. Loki, Cap vs. Loki, Widow vs. Loki, Stark vs. Loki... and, best of all, the hilarious Hulk vs. Loki sequence which is worth the price of admission on its own. The hero-on-hero fight sequences (while necessary to slake the geek thirst) seem a little forced... and the film is at least 20 minutes too long, especially considering how little actual story there is to go round. I was impressed by the way the writers tied together the earlier movies, making each a genuine prequel to the main event, but after that it's a mishmash of chase scene, destructo-porn and quipping slugfest right up to the closing credits. I'd have hoped for a few more plot twists... especially from Loki, the king of crafty shenanigans. And the Big Bad Reveal at the end is distinctly underwhelming, even for fanboys who know who Thanos is. I reckon they only roped him in to piss on DC's Darkseid chips should that fabled JLA movie ever get past the planning stages. Oh, sorry, was that a spoiler? Pretend I wrote it in 3D and you'll not even notice it was there...
It's been a busy week here at SOS towers, so apart from the keeping-the-wolf-from-the-door opportunism of my previous post (apologies to those of you wondering why I broke off my musical journey into space for an entirely unrelated Top Ten... but I had to find some way to afford the Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus Volume 2) things have been rather quiet on the blogging front.
That's not to say I've not been writing blog posts. I've actually been employed to write them for my University (where I'm currently studying my PGCE). There's not a whole lot of money in it and I'm only writing one post a week, but every little helps... as I believe one of our Evil Corporate Overloads has it. My Uni Blog is probably of very little interest to anyone reading this (hell, Sunset Over Slawit is probably of very little interest to anyone reading this), but should you have a spare five minutes, you can always click here.
Meanwhile, for those of you wondering why I haven't posted my review of The Avengers (not "Marvel Avengers Assemble" - an idiotic title made created by idiots who believe even bigger idiots might confuse it with Patrick MacNee and Honor Blackman), the truth is I need to see it again first. Or rather, I need to see it properly first. Because, through an unfortunate series of circumstances entirely beyond my control, I ended up watching it the first time in 3D. Yes, I knew that would be a mistake, but I thought I'd be able to ignore the stupid fx and just enjoy the film. Unfortunately, this wasn't to be, and I spent the entire time feeling twice removed from the film, constantly aware that I was watching something and struggling so much to focus on the dark and blurry (i.e. 3D) images that I was unable to immerse myself in the story or even follow the dialogue. So my review of the film - at this point - would be far more negative than expected. I'm hoping that will change once I've seen it the way God intended us to watch movies... because what I could make out through the unfocussed murk looked like it had a fair bit of potential. Just not in 3D.
I'm taking a brief rest from our journey into musical space to celebrate ten songs about cashing in at the casino. Let the chips fall where they may...
Thea has gambling on her mind, and lyrics that can’t ever lose. Take a listen to this song from the Rules For Jokers album - it's guaranteed to hit the jackpot.
Everclear should know better than to play blackjack with “Scary John”. “Be careful what you ask for,” Art Alexakis sings on this track, but considering this is the man who also offers to “…Buy You A New Life” and dreams of living “Like A California King”, the stakes are obviously high. The first new Everclear album in six years is released next month… will it be another winner?
Legend has it Mick couldn't come up with any decent lyrics to this song. So he scribbled some random casino-related phrases on a few scraps of paper and the band took turns drawing them out of a bag, making the words up as they went along. Despite all that, Keith's boogie-woogie riffs brought it home.
It may be time to reassess Human Touch and Lucky Town. Releasing two albums on the same day is never a good bet for any artist, especially after a five year break. Expectations were impossibly high after Tunnel Of Love... the odds were stacked against Bruce. Still, he rolled the dice... and listening to this record 20 years later, it still sounds fresh. I call that a win.
Mr. G and Mr. Dogg lay out the consequences of street corner hip hop gambling after a game of Cee-Lo goes against them. Pity I couldn't find a Cee Lo Green track on this same subject, but at least I now know where the big guy got his name from.
There are loads of songs about gamblers (in fact, there's a whole other Top Ten in them... one day), but none give quite so much useful advice to the budding casino goer. You never count your money when you're sitting at the table...
1. Elvis Presley - Viva Las Vegas
The ultimate gambling song for the ultimate casino town where all you need is a strong heart and nerves of steel. Of course, The King wins the pot... but ZZ Top, Bruce and The Dead Kennedys play to win too.
Those were mine… but which casino song is a guaranteed winner for you?
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