(I should preface this column by telling you that I'm on vacation, and there may be times when I can't get to a computer and bang out a reasonable missive. So this is the Huge, Self Important "Away From His Desk" column, and it largely revolves around my being of certain opinions that you may not share. Read at your own risk.)

Do you ever find yourself thinking about old bands, old singers, or dead (or mindfucked) musicians, and thinking "What a Shame?"

I do, as you might expect. And I find that I don't often apply the same criteria to people as I go along. Why did I say "What a shame" when Frank Zappa died of cancer, but simply mourn the recent passing of Ray Charles? Why did I say "What a shame" when Rage Against The Machine called it quits, but don't really care if Live put out another CD ever, even though I like them, too? And why did I die laughing when the Backstreet Boys finally called it a day (in spite of liking at least one of their songs)?

Well, I've thought about it, and I've come down to a few conclusions:

1) Every band has its time.

Some bands (like Rush) have the ability to go on and on without becoming "a relic," as they either stay fresh and new, or else have something universal to say. Others, however, are best suited to a certain place and time, and then should really just call it a day when that time is past (the Police, Flock of Seagulls, etc.).

And then there are those who are really only ever meant to be one-hit wonders. If they stay any longer, they'd overstay their welcome, like a companion made at a convention who really doesn't add anything to your life outside of the convention floor. (Re-Flex, who did the amazing "Politics of Dancing" and then vanished, fall here, as do many others from the 80's)

2) Every artist has his or her time.

Death, insanity or cruel fate ultimately takes all musicians from us, and not always after a long, good career of music; Sometimes the black train comes at the "wrong" time, and we're all left saying What A Shame. But sometimes the train comes along after that long career, and while you're sorry to see them go, you don't think we'd have missed much (as awful as that sounds...)

For example: I don't think it's a shame that Johnny Cash died when he did. I'm sorry he's gone, but he lived an amazing life, and had what could arguably be called "his time." (I do think it's a shame that he was neglected for as long as he was, but that's another story). I do think it's a shame Jim Morrison went when he did, either, because while he was pretty much washed up and gone, he might have come out of it and started doing something new.

But I think Mama Cass went waaayyyy too early. And while he's still around - and getting better, it seems - I think it's a damn shame that Brian Wilson went around the bend when he did. And Sly! Dammit, we need Sly and the Family Stone back, now more than ever...

3) I'm entitled to call dogshit by its rightful name, and be grateful that certain bands will never inflict their particular brand on us ever again.

I don't think it's a shame that Billy Squier dropped off the radar after writing "The Stroke," and I wish that Katrina and the Waves' "Walking on Sunshine" could be consigned to the Memory Hole, 1984-style.

Creed, meanwhile, should have been relegated to shining urinals in spit bars everywhere instead of being allowed to make records. And don't even get me started on most boy bands... all boy bands, in fact. And some of the singers that come out of boy bands, and...

Well, you get the picture.

Here, in no particular order, are some of the major bands and singers that make me say "what a shame" whenever I hear one of their songs. This is a topic I could go on for some time, so I whittled it down a bit, rather than go on forever.

You can thank me later, but keep your disagreements to yourself. I don't need ten million froth-mouthed Michael Jackson fans telling me I'm an apostate for calling the shoehorn what it is...

Guns & Roses: My Goddess, what a massive waste of talent and energy.

G&R came seemingly out of nowhere, fully-formed, with an amazing album that had nary an "off" song to its credit. Even today, Appetite for Destruction's still as good listening as it was back in the late 80's, when you couldn't get away from "Welcome to the Jungle," "Sweet Child o' Mine" or "Patience" for any appreciable length of time.

And yeah, we had our jokes at their expense, like the "Guns & Poses" line from Depeche Mode's 101. But in the end we were laughing past our badges, and we wore them for a long, long time. In fact, I think it's an eerie testament to their raw power and presence that Cal Thomas, himself, called them "The Band From Hell."

He needn't have worried too much, though; Appetite, in retrospect, was a flash in the pan. A follow-up CD with a few live songs and a few new ones - including the infamous "One In A Million" - followed, but failed to be more than filler. And then we had to wait for-fucking-ever for Use Your Illusion pts 1 and 2, only to find some rather sad offerings. There is a reason why the only song they ever play from those albums is "November Rain."

And that tune became their swan song. Somewhere between someone's drug habits, several someones' ego problems and a few other things, G&R became musical history. I remember they put out a cover album called The Spaghetti Incident, which was controversial for including a song written by that noted musician Charles Manson, but I think the jig was up on them well before.

Now Axl Rose stages a "comeback" for the band, but he's the only original member on stage. And he can't even summon up the wind to make it through two songs while he's up there, either. I think it's time to call it over, though we barely skimmed the surface of what was possible.(And if you want an idea of what could have been possible, check out Velvet Revolver's CD.

What A Shame.

Michael Jackson: Another case of someone who had it all and has lost almost all of it since.

I won't tell you anything you don't know by singing the praises of Thriller. It's worth noting, however, that it was a nuanced and brilliant performance by a man at the top of his game. He'd been in music all his life and had become increasingly better over the years, but then came the moment where he literally blew everyone away with the leap forward that was Thriller.

The music, the moves, the man... there wasn't anything bad you could say about him, for a while there. Did all that brilliance, and a squeaky-clean image, hide a monster? That's not for me to say, and I'm not going to comment too much, here, on the circus of accusations against him.

But I think that's the operative word, there: circus. Michael Jackson has morphed from a talented performer into a fucking circus clown. He comes complete with crazy makeup, weird costumes and the amazing ability to make us watch his every move.

I know he still has his fans, but I wonder how many of them have gotten caught up in the spectacle that Michael has created out of his life. It shouldn't be the music, at any rate. He's strayed very, very far from the good performances from Off The Wall and the astounding ones from Thriller, and ever since the appropriately-titled Bad he has gotten increasingly worse.

So the question remains - what happened to the man who gave us what still is, by all accounts, the best album of the 80's? I can't say, but it's almost as if the aliens that Tim Foil's always on about snuck in and removed his brain after that botched Pepsi commercial...?

It would explain a lot. Really.

Frankie Goes to Hollywood: Oh yes, I was a Frankie fan. I was a major fan, in fact. I didn't have the cash to buy any of their gear, go see their concerts or anything of the sort, but there was a time in my life when I lived, breathed and ate FGTH.

And I know I wasn't the only one, either, and that's because Welcome to the Pleasuredome is one of the best albums of the 80's. It couldn't compete with something like Thriller, and there were some "off" moments to be found. But even today I would plunk down the green for a CD of Pleasuredome to replace the worn-out tape I have it on, if only I could find one.

I mean... come on, dammit, weren't those some good songs? Don't you still find yourself toe-tapping and singing along whenever "Relax" comes on the radio? Don't you still refuse to change the channel when the gloriously OTT video for "Two Tribes" comes on? Blame it on the producer (Trevor Horn), Holly Johnson's rather... *ahem*, unique style of delivery, or the rest of the lads pounding along, but they had a sense of force and direction that made the music come alive.

Some people have said that all Frankie Goes To Hollywood ever was could be attributed to hype. I disagree: there was a lot of hype - a lot of pretentiousness on their part, too, at times - but I think the hype was well-deserved. They once said they were the face of England, 1984 (or "gay England, 1984" perhaps), and there was a time when FGTH put (gay) England right on top of the world.

So maybe that was what killed them: they went up to the top as soon as they got really noticed, but then the inertia spiraled away, and they had nowhere to go but down. I liked their followup, album, Liverpool, but it just didn't have the same power or energy that Pleasuredome had. It was like they were scaling back and trying something new, or maybe they were getting sick of the whole "Frankie Say" thing, too. Or sick of each other?

Either way, that was that, and Frankie said "No More." And that was a shame, because I think they had a lot more to say if they'd only hung in there and said it.

Buddy Holly: A lot of people tend to remember only that it was Richie Valens in that plane, with Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper. For that, I blame that damn "La Bamba" movie, and I wonder how many people can tell the difference between the original song and Los Lobos' remake of it.

But you could scrape whatever was left of Valens and the Bopper off the pavement, stick them in an empty can of Pringles and send them to a convent in Bolivia for all I care. It's no slur on either of them, because they both had their merits as musicians and people. But Buddy Holly was really talented and going places, and I wish to Goddess he'd just taken the fucking bus.

In fact, I have a sideways prediction: I think that if he hadn't died, when he had, Buddy Holly would have gone on to be bigger than Elvis - especially after Elvis jumped the shark, got fat and retreated to Vegas. I think Buddy would have stayed lean, mean and clean, and gone on to do some amazing things. He was still branching out and finding himself when he died, and I think that discovery would have produced a lot of very good fruit.

But he didn't take the bus, and the dark train came to get him, instead. Goddess rest you and keep you, Buddy.

Kurt Cobain: Where were you when Kurt Cobain took Grunge music to its logical end by blowing his own brains out? I was working in a book store, and noting that Richard Scary, the children's book writer and illustrator, died in the same period of time. And we all wondered who actually had a better impact.

A nasty thing to say? Yeah, it was, but by that time we were all sick of Kurt Cobain. He was as whiny and fucked up away from the mike as he was in front of it, and after hearing him whinge and whimper his way towards doom, we all kind of shut him out. In a sense Kurt Cobain got exactly what he was asking for - oblivion - and away he went...

On the other hand, you can't stay too disgusted with him for too long. I listen to Nirvana's old stuff, and I think of how he might have matured - musically and personally - if he'd just grown up. What might have happened if he'd just split from that nasty cunt he'd hooked up with, gotten off his drugs and tried to be more... I dunno, positive?

But then, he wouldn't have been the musician who did all those classic Grunge tunes if he hadn't lived the life he had. However, I think there'd have been more than enough previous anger to work out and work through, even with clean veins and a girlfriend who wouldn't make you think "Sid and Nancy." So maybe he could have found a future after all?

But the thought of a detoxed Kurt Cobain trying to make self-affirming, positive music, and forswearing his earlier "excesses," scares the crap out of me. It's like finding out the hot little number you used to fuck in high school is now singing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, and thinks you're going to Haitch-Eee-Ell-Ell because you won't tell him or her you're sorry for your part in all that great, teenage fun.

And yet... I still think What A Shame when "Smells Like Teen Spirit" comes on, out of nowhere, and that's why he's here. Goddess rest you and keep you, Kurt.

And then there's the all time What a Shame moment: John Lennon.

Enough said on that one. Goddess rest you and keep you, John.

As for bands and "artists" that need to end. I submit the following.

Blue Oyster Cult: Sorry, guys. You should have called it a day when your best songwriter left. Nothing you've done since Imaginos has been worth the price of admission, and we're tired of it. Shoo! Shoo!

The Rolling Stones: Even listening to "Satisfaction" has become an exercise in pain when I remember them doing it live... from just ten years ago. The relic point was passed at the end of the 80's. Take your money, go retire and join your former drummer in chatting up teenagers. Please.

Live: Yeah, I still like them, but after a while I realize that the reason I still like them is built on the momentum of their earlier albums. The last few have been seriously hit or miss, and after a while I really get sick of their lead singer trying to drag me along on his journey to higher truth. I'll still buy their product when it comes out, just to be hopeful that the magic and power they refound in V comes back, but I'm not expecting to be pleased. No sir.

The Cure: Yes, I said it. I'm sorry, folks, but the time has come to admit that the 80's has passed us by, and with it whatever dark muse truly powered Robert Smith et. al. In fact, with all the original members gone, and only God Robert remaining, the lack of musical give-and-take is showing.

Nothing since Disintegration - with the exception of the song "Burn" from the Crow - has really carried the dark joy and power of the early stuff, and even Bloodflowers was ultimately disappointing, in spite of having a couple very good tunes on it. They've got one more chance to wow me, but if the next CD blows, I'm sticking with re-issues and pretending they went over the cliff in the tour bus.

Courtney Love: Get thyself to a rehab, and don't come out until you're not only clean-veined, but have sworn to never sing another note ever again - not even in the shower. And we'll stop in to check, too.

With stunguns.

*In short: I hope they're not true, but at this point I have serious doubts on how they couldn't be, and it's hard to be sure of anything amongst the claims, denials and counters of each side's claims and denials.

But then, R. Kelly can apparently have himself videotaped in the act with a minor on more than one occasion, and there isn't a massive mob out to get him.

But he supposedly went and did it with a hot little number who could have been mistaken for 18, while Michael supposedly went after little boys with cancer. That may have something to do with it, too.

Or maybe I'm fighting cognitive dissonance because, try as hard as I can, I can't not like what I've heard from R. Kelly's new CD.

Sheeee-it.