199. Poison – Look What the Cat Dragged In
I was never really into hair metal. I left that up to my youngest sister, who embraced the entire culture of hair metal with ever fiber of her being. She rocked the hair metal harder than you, and had the Jersey Hair to prove it.
Yet somehow, I ended up with a slew of albums from this genre. Who knows. Maybe I was drunk when I bought them. Maybe I was forced to buy them at gunpoint. Or maybe I stole them from my sister in an effort to keep her from playing this crap in the house.
Or maybe, just maybe, there was this tiny little part of me, a part buried way down deep in my soul that likes this crap. Maybe there have been one or two times, or maybe a dozen, when I’ve sung Talk Dirty to Me into a hairbrush-as-microphone, actually enjoying lyrics like “behind the bushes, til I’m screaming for more.” I said maybe. This may or may not have happened.
I don’t think I ever really listened to the rest of the album. But I looked at it. I stared at that album cover for hours at a time, imagining that we were all the victims of some elaborate hoax and these four guys were really girls. Because they looked remarkably like my sisters and her friends. This came into play again many years later, when I had the revelation that Bret Michaels was really Ann Coulter. Wait, maybe that’s Sebastian Bach. Ok, hold on…am I reviewing the right album? Did Poison do Talk Dirty to Me or was that Skid Row?
Whatever. What it all boils down to is I still love Talk Dirty to Me. Maybe it’s just nostalgia that makes me love it, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got a hairbrush and a sudden desire to wake up the whole house at 6am yelling “CC, pick up that guitar and talk to me!”
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