The wonderful world of rock

Imagine you’re sitting in church. I’m willing to bet most of you aren’t churchgoers or really all that religious, either, but you should just try and picture it. The seats are numbing your ass with discomfort, and you feel like you’ve been sitting motionless for an eternity. "Finally!" your inner monologue exclaims as you see the preacher approach his pulpit. But wait! Something’s amiss! The priest is Jack White, and he’s about to deliver an electric sermon to the Lord God above! Sounds better than regular church, eh? Well, that could have happened. According to a recent interview with "60 Minutes," the poorly coifed rocker almost chose to forgo his guitar in favor of the Good Book.

"I’d got accepted to the seminary in Wisconsin and I was going to become a priest, but at the last second I thought, ‘I’ll just go to public school.’" White revealed. "I had just gotten a new amplifier in my bedroom and I didn’t think I was allowed to take it with me." The way I look at it, we’re pretty lucky Jackie White didn’t decide to bless us with a steaming batch of boring sermons. After all, we have Billy Corgan for that.

After a particularly bleak winter in terms of concerts, it looks like the times may be a’changin.’ Good old Bob Dylan will be visiting us this spring. He will ride in on a cool March 11 breeze, handing out backhanded compliments in his incomparable way, sending his self-deprecating statements of his own greatness rising into the rafters of Portland’s very own Earl A. Chiles Center. In case you don’t know (and since I sure as hell didn’t), the Chiles Center is way out on North Williams Avenue, in that weird area around the University of Portland. Although it’ll set you back $50, you can’t say it’s not worth it. I mean, Dylan’s had some bad times and made some bad music, but you have to forgive him by merit of the genius that he has shown so clearly in the past. If you people will wait for hours in the rain for Billy Corgan to sign his crappy $20 poetry book for you, after he’s already made three bad albums to boot, then you’ll probably do anything. Did you actually read that book after you bought it? It’s B-A-D. I read it in the bookstore and it had me doubled over, and not in a humorous way either. I mean in the vomiting way.

That McCartney! What’ll he get himself into next? Well, if you watch television, talk to anyone that does, or really expose yourself to any kind of media at all, you know that he wowed Super Bowl crowds last Sunday with a delightful medley of Beatles classics, and of course a Wings turkey. The sprightly oldster made quite a show for us, replete with a huge lighted stage and a fireworks display so humongous it would make Billy Corgan’s bald dome look tiny in comparison. Throughout the performance, Paul and his band didn’t miss a beat, tearing through "Drive My Car" (coincidentally, Ford sponsored the whole Bowl and it seems like there were some Fords flashing on Macca’s lighted stage,) "Get Back," "Hey Jude," and the ubiquitous "Live and Let Die," which I actually didn’t hate as much this time as I usually do. All in all, McCartney’s set just came together (I didn’t mean that as a pun) and gave us a good look at what he’s made of. He’s an entertainer through and through.

Editor’s note: Apparently Nick witnessed a different McCartney half-time show than the rest of us. From where I’m sitting, Sir Paul was a hobbling old hack who gave a bewildered, twig-armed, ass-dragging, old folks’ home of a set, replete with hacking "Woos" and feeble solos. I’m just saying…