We've always thought "if you love someone, set them free" was one of the most annoying adages of all time -- whether plastered across a Holly Hobbie coffee mug or a disc by Der Stingle. As such, we're happy to see a new generation change the second part of that phrase to "set them in bronze" -- an honor that apparently awaits the late T. Rex leader Marc Bolan. Inspired by the immortalization of Jerry Garcia -- reported here some weeks back -- Bolan fans are pinching pennies to place a statue of the glam guru at the spot where he died when the car his wife was driving crashed into a tree in Barnes Common, England. We'd never try to take food from the mouths of the babes of iron-workers, but the notion of marking this tragedy by giving other drivers another obstacle to avoid seems kinda like setting up a Kurt Cobain memorial shooting range . . .

The castaways from that Survivor island may have come home with some issues -- but at least none of them had to put up with the indignity of being booted in favor of someone who's been dead for nearly a decade. That's the fate suffered by former Kiss hired hands Vinnie Vincent, Mark St John and Eric Singer, all of whom were booted off an "island" that floats somewhere in the middle of AOL's Kiss bulletin board in favor of the band's late drummer Eric Carr, who passed away in 1991 after a battle with cancer. It would probably be too tasteless -- even for Kiss fans -- to have Carr be the (pardon the expression) Survivor, so we'll place our bets on Gene Simmons. After all, his love handles and offstage hairstyle would land him top prize in any Rich Hatch lookalike contest . . .

Despite the nasty reception he received at MTV's dog-and-pony show the other day, Lars Ulrich picked up a new ally in the fight against file-sharing -- one that's joined ranks from beyond the grave. Fans managed to hack in to a British Web site earlier this week in order to access files containing dozens of Freddie Mercury tracks that will be available on a sprawling box set chronicling the solo career of the King of Queen. Freddie -- or his representatives on this mortal coil -- took an instant dislike to the notion of the material being disseminated for free and decided to fight back. No, Mercury wasn't able to dispatch any netherworld minions to sear the flesh of the computer geeks, but Beelzebub's pals at EMI gathered up the tunes in question and tucked them away safely in a much safer place . . .

While we don't think any of them followed in Mick Jagger's footsteps at the London School of Economics, we must call attention to some fine financial footwork on the part of Def Leppard. Bowing to a local ordinance that forced them to lower volume levels to the point where you could actually hear the Satanic backmasking on several songs, the group completed a show in Salem, Ore. -- and then promptly offered refunds to concert-goers who left the venue without the proper amount of eustachial damage. Considering the kind of judgments that have flown out of courts after lawsuits over excessive volume, we suppose it's sort of sensible to adopt the philosophy "if it's too loud, you're . . . absolutely right, vicar, we'll turn it down right away."

DAVID SPRAGUE
(September 9, 2000)