Let’s face it—given the choice, most of us would rather be somewhere else, not where we are. People have been dreaming about faraway places and faraway lands ever since the first caveman and his wife went over to the second caveman and his wife’s house for brontosaurus dinner and the first caveman’s wife, upon returning home, started complaining about the shabby state of their standard of living as compared to the Jonestones (“You call this a loin cloth?”), leading hubby to go out for a ride on the pet pterodactyl and wonder about what life might be like on the other side of the tar pits. Next thing you jjjhew there were cave drawings, j|boks, music, radio, movies and |§levision—all designed to make * forget our troubles by whiskjjg us away to the imagined Measures of Treasure Island, Sjgantasy Island, the Virgin llplands and Gilligan’s Island, like the ad says, get on that Honda...And do what? Escape.

j Many, in fact most, of the jjjjusic videos one sees are little Bore than fantasy trips; rock Bars getting a chance to go and Bay make-believe. This has led Btely to a proliferation of what JJjbpears to be a real growing Bend—namely, the “travelog” Bdeo. Now let me quickly say Bat the travelog video must be Bstinguished from the “on the Bad” video; I am not speaking IJjpre about those Ratt or ScorBons or Hooters or Heart clips Baturing “documentary” footage of the gang on the bus doing “amusing” things (although Bio admit that the Journey video B which Steve Perry shaves off Is moustache is my personal Bvorite in that particular genre). Bo, I’m talking get-out-thejjpmera-picture-post-card-viewpake-way-for-the-slide-show Und of travel-related videos, the kind that Duran Duran have managed to base a career on, like the one they filmed in urn, what place was that?...starts with an “M”—Madagascar? Morocco? Mamaroneck? Malaysia? (No, wait, that’s Sri Lanka now, right? Or is Madagascar Sri Lanka? Oh, to be like Simon and know these things like the back of my hand!)

Anyway, I’m not at all sure how I feel about these new “exotic ports of call” videos. Phil Collins’s “Take Me Home” is kinda cute, sort of a join-the-video-and-see-the-world home movie of famous places visited by an amiable chap who always acts like he can’t figure out why he’s so big (which is his absolute saving grace), but then there’s always some one-stepforward-two-steps-back counterproductive video lurking about, like King’s “Alone Without You,” which looks like nothing so much as a bad tour of Greece conducted by a group you’d rather be caught dead than share the Fiesta deck of The Love Boat with. Midway through this atrocity (for those of you with a faint stomach, I’ll leave the song itself out of it), Mr. King, standing in front of some ancient ruin, grins at the camera and proceeds to lick the all-knowing back of his hand—twice. And I’ll bet the whole damned vacation wound up a nice fat corporate write-off because of the video. Think CREEM’ll let me start doing this column from St. Tropez?

SNAP SHOTS

Ignorance is Blizz: Ozzy Osbourne, “Shot In the Dark”—Only from the mind of the almighty Oz could comedy plot in which the reward a gjjjj gets for actually going to one of his concerts is that she winds i|jj stuck inside a billboard for tff§B rest of her (now that sheH become one with the metal) ufBI natural life. Of course, ever sin® that live “Iron Man” video whejjjj Ozzy stood shirtless before h||' minions in all his endearirljj paunchness, mascara drippirf|j| down his face, squealirH “Nobody wants him, he jujftl stares at the world—/ love yq|h people!—Nobody wants him— Everybody sing!—now he ge§|§| his revenge,” well, let’s just say we don’t think there’s mu||§ point in questioning this boy|| actions anymore. Then agailp was there ever?...

Are You Sure This Wijj Cleared With OSHA? The Fabulous Thunderbirdl& “Tuff Enuff”—Wherein recopf company faced with dilemma ft making video for good song flj grown-up blues band th||| doesn’t quite fit the ’80s ccBj porate notion of what a group' should look like if it’s really gfl| ing to make it comes up with B| amazingly novel concept™ HALF-NAKED WOMEN! Who says music business executivlB have no imagination?...Aifjjj They Laughed When Chicago*'. Pledged Themselves To Tlfl Revolution in 1968: Jackson Browne, “For America”B| Wow! First clothing ads with the National Anthem playing in tl background, then automobflj ads with “the pride is backfl| born in America” playing in tlH background, and now fl[ Newsweek subscription ad with a Jackson Brow..., wait! TnH isn’t a Newsweek ad? Then whfl[ are still photos of every majH event to take place in the when damned world since the eaflj ’60s doing here? PoUticWm Jackson? In 1986, Jacksoiflj Your train left 18 years ago.Ill

And I’m Not Just The PreBjj dent Of The Company—I'ml Client As Well: Tears For Fears, “Mothers Talk”fl| Alright! One’s got a perm ndBj and the other one chopped H his pony tail! Who says no owP ever listens to rock critics?

I LOVEI MY SHIRT

■ COMBAT TOUR LIVE: I The Ultimate Revenge (Combat Video)

by Dave DiMartino

■ If you’re like me—bored 1 with life itself, six-foot-three9 *.:and-three-quarters, from I Miami, incredibly handsome, § something of a jerk, capable 1 writing words when every I J||er of your being screams, ‘DRINK ME”—well, wait a minute, even if you’re not like He, and merely wondering why anybody in their right mind Hbuld write such words when they could be out there having He time of their lives grooving to He life experience itself, which Hu very well may be, you’ll want H read all about this tape, which H called The Ultimate Revenge v Hid features three of the hippest Hetal bands you’ll ever see for He rest of your life, Slayer, Tfenom and Exodus, who are absolutely the ultimate in heavy Hetal, the final, logical conclusion to the metal scene in toto, Hid are available now, gloriousIjk on this spectacular videoHssette.

■You’ll love it, and one of the Hasons you’ll love it is because lltrepresents the burning underside of today’s hippest rock— which is to say that there are parallels here with the ultra-cool bands of the late ’60s, the bands |pat entire cults grew up around, He take the Blue Cheer for instance, who recorded the two test heavy metal albums ever, mjncebus Eruptum and Outside/ Hs/cfe, which of course the three , Itbands here could never hope to approach were they to record apum after album from here to eternity, which is what one of Heir albums would probably be called eventually anyway, but Hat’s straying from the point, - |hd there is a point to be made here: if there is a future to heavy Hetal, one which will not end up ■ling glorified by the MTV-ish legions that make cartoon figures out of such laughable “bands” as Motley Crue and Ratt, for example, it will be in bands like Slayer, Venom and Exodus, bands that are musically or conceptually superior and play in a blur of speed, emotion and all-out physical prowess that will probably knock the socks off of anybody who might not be aware of their existence, and there’s reason to believe that there are many out there who aren’t.

I like all three of these bands a lot, probably Slayer the most, if you care, and you probably don’t, and for that I can’t blame you, but what the heck, I’m me and you’re you, so, getting on with it, consider that this videocassette is recorded in Hi-Fi sound, it is loud, so loud, and it is very intense, so intense in fact that you won’t mind that a large portion of the bands’ lyrics are undecipherable, which is all for the best because—and here comes these bands’ sole weak points—those same lyrics are all about Satan, the witching hour, the Antichrist, the strike of the Beast and Hell awaiting, which it may or may not be, I don’t know or especially care, since if it happens it happens and all that, but anyway these lyrical concerns are really stupid, I think, and you probably think too, or, I should say, think so too, and the sort of thing I suppose these bands feel they should be singing about.

They shouldn’t.

If you’d like to know what I think they should be singing about, you’ll have to picture the current metal scene, in which a massive portion of the audience is male, clad in leather and denim and—oddly—seemingly not too bright, which is just a personal opinion, understand, but I think maybe a wee bit accurate, so let’s stop discussing it, and instead picture these same macho legions raising their leather-clad fists heavenward and chanting for the Ultimate Metal Band Of ’87, which will have a really sharp name like Daisy, Betty, Sisyphus, Gladys or Stephanie and will consist entirely of males, the uglier the better, you see, but they should have good bodies and stuff, and instead of singing about going to hell because they’ve kissed the balls o’ Baal they’ll play the fastest thrash metal ever imaginable, so fast it burns and makes Slayer and Exodus and Iggy Pop’s “Gimme Some Skin” and all that other crap sound like Windham Hill stuff, and, let me stress once more, the guys in the band should be almost physical duplicates of their audience but somewhat cooler-looking, so that the audience itself would want to emulate the band in looks and attitude, and would want to sirujjb| along to lyrics like:

I am a big sissy

I wear my sister’s clothes I

I want more lipstick

I am no good at sports

I get really good grades

I sweat a lot

And stink

And girls don’t like me

And I like them but

I don’t care because

I read lots of books and

Go to church and

Enjoy my many pets

I like tropical fish

Do you?

And metal music is for pansies

Pansies are flowers

We almost called ourselves Daisy

But we didn’t

Can you guys in the audience

Get us dates?

We get nervous a lot

Sometimes we stutter

And have really small

Private parts

But who are we to bother I

Sharing our problems with I you?

We are sissies

Sissies

And we embrace

Pink things

And lisp

And read Garfield

And go to church

And sweat a lot

Yoo Hoo, Yoo Hoo, Yoo Hoo

Yoo hoo.

What does this all this have to do with the hardcore met&i scene ’86, let alone the woH drous videocassette that’s heirral discussed here? It isn’t relatekf in the slightest. Nonetheless, |fp you like heavy metal, and here|§§ hoping you do, you’ll go out of your way to get this tape—whicH is available for $29.95 from IRD Mail Order, 149-03 Guy R. Brewster Blvd., Jamaica, NY, 11434—and realize that there H only one proper direction \w0 metal to take in the late ’80s, and the folks at Combat RecordH with bands like Slayer, ExoduH Venom, Bathory, Abattoir and Megadeth, are very much aware of it.