Inspired by their mutual love of the INXS record Kick, Matt and Jeff have decided to take another listen to their favorite classic and forgotten records from the 80s. This is the Faith Project, and it is 100% guaranteed to contain absolutely no analysis of George Michael’s Faith.
About a month ago, I learned that Beck’s record club was doing a song-by-song cover album of INXS’s nearly forgotten classic Kick. I immediately sent the link to Matt, knowing him to be a Kick fan from way back. The covers got us motivated to dust off the original, and we spent the next 2 weeks on a serious Kick bender. When talk came around about the next old favorite we should put into rotation, I brought up George Michael’s Faith. Matt came up with the idea of calling our newly-formed record club The Faith Project. Then he suggested that it would be better if we called it the Faith Project and never actually listened to Faith. Thus, the Faith Project was born. This week, we take a listen to the record that got the whole thing started, Kick.
I don’t have memories of listening to Kick the way I do some of my other early favorites, like R.E.M.’s Document or U2′s The Joshua Tree. The main thing I remember about INXS is that my friend Jon Harmon’s sister Libby was super into them, and I thought she was cool because she was older than us and dressed like Molly Ringwald’s wacky friend in Pretty in Pink and knew what KROQ was even though we lived in Michigan. I know I listened to this record over and over again, I just can’t recall how old I was, or where, or with who. I have repressed all memories of listening to this record. I have also repressed all pictures of me trying to grow my hair out to look more like Michael Hutchence, because yowch.
Any discussion of INXS has to begin by acknowledging that Michael Hutchence died by choking while wanking himself off. In my opinion, the less said about that, the better. Autoerotic asphyxiation is one of those things that should theoretically be funny, but really is just a reminder that even the coolest guys in the world are nothing more than dick-spanking apes desperately groping for a few seconds of happiness in an otherwise miserable existence. I’m sure there isn’t a man among us who doesn’t have at least one adventure in his long history of self-cultivation that maybe wasn’t such a great idea in retrospect. Michael Hutchence didn’t just look like a rock n’ roll Jesus: he died for our sins. (more…)