LUDIC LOG

With Valentine's Day coming up, people are asking us here at World Command Central, "What is love, and how can I get some?" Well, I'm afraid we don't have the answers here; our attempts to find love have usually resulted in recrimination, alcohol abuse, and the breaking of perfectly good electronics. However, it's a fact that rock music has all the answers, so let's go to the experts, as found in my CD collection.

What is love? Recently deceased Indian culture devotee George Harrison says "This is Love", perhaps gesturing to something in the studio; no help there. "Love is a Long Road", says helpful Bob Dylan impersonator Tom Petty: at last, a working definition. Love is the I-90. But, from fellow nasal-voiced troubador Neil Young, a dissenting opinion: "Love is a Rose", he says. Well, that would certainly make it easier to get. Indeed, arguments are everywhere: while synthopoptop Annie Lennox declares that "Love is a Stranger", David Coverdale of Whitesnake offers the crudely stated but emotional rebuttal that "Love Ain't No Stranger". We find ourselves about to agree with cokeheaded Cali historian Warren Zevon, who scoffs "You Don't Know What Love Is", when from the depths of the 1970s comes this dire warning from Fleetwood Mac: "Love is Dangerous"!

Is love really dangerous? Asking romantic saps like Don Was won't yield a straight answer; he will only begrudgingly admit that "Love Can Be Bad Luck". Talking Heads show distress when we breach the subject; "Uh Oh, Love Comes to Town", they cringe. What is the source of their fear? True, everyone from the Jazz Butcher to Randy Newman have warned of the dangers of "Falling in Love", as if it were hot tar or quicksand. But is it really dangerous? "Love is Pain", former delinquent Joan Jett assures us. "Love Bites", howl ludicrous leather-freaks Judas Priest, showing welts. "Love Stinks", sneer the J. Geils Band. Love is beginning to resemble an untrained German Shepherd puppy. But before we laughingly roll up a newspaper and move along, the real horror stories start to roll in.

The Rolling Stones deny that age is a source of cataracts, and claim to have been "Blinded By Love". Yatsura, who remind us that they are not Pavement, say that they're more than familiar with "The Love That Brings You Down", and Magnetic Fields win no converts in the alcoholic loser demographic by saying -- in an unflattering way -- that "Love Is Like a Bottle of Gin". Tuscadero are "Lovesick", and too bad for them, as aging French-Canadian junkie Leonard Cohen tells us there "Ain't No Cure For Love". The Dukes of Stratosphear warn us that "My Love Explodes" -- FORGET THAT! Nazareth screams that "Love Hurts", and L.A. punk relics the Circle Jerks get it right out in the open: "Love Kills"! Not only that, say Sparks, but love is cannibalistic: they claim to have been "Eaten By the Monster of Love". Love is now starting to look a lot like Ed Gein. Small wonder that obese skate-punks the Big Boys plead for "No Love", while flapper-revivalists the Squirrel Nut Zippers beg for "Anything But Love"!

Whatever its risks, love is a lot like linen, coming in a wide variety of colors and patterns. Wan Bostonians 'til tuesday offer the unpleasant and impractical-sounding "Love in a Vacuum"; the Feelies feature not only the lawsuit-prone "Original Love" but also the self-contradictory "Loveless Love", which sounds a lot like "Pepsi-Free". Ray Charles gives us "Careless Love", which is understandable coming from a blind man in his 70s. Heroin criminals the Velvet Underground, with the lacksadaisical, diffident attitude so typical of them (see the grudging "Guess I'm Falling in Love") are suspiciously uncertain of their product, shrugging their shoulders and proffering "Some Kinda Love". The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion has "2 Kindsa Love", Robyn Hitchcock offers the minty and refreshing "Winter Love", and the Beatles, always trying to outdo everyone else, claim to feature "Real Love". But at this point, like my iMac and the lass and lads in Add N to X, "Machine is Bored with Love".