This is a compilation album. I cannot stand compilation albums. My father knows that I cannot stand compilation albums. But here we are, on yet another Dad Rock Tuesday, and I’m writing a post about a compilation album. I guess I could have told him that he assigned me a compilation album, or even picked a different record from the list he presented, but at this point, that’d be too much trouble—I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.
The truth is, I didn’t even notice that The Cramps’ Bad Music For Bad People was a comp album until I looked it up on Wikipedia. Most records of this nature have absolutely no flow, and just pull the singles and songs considered especially “good” by some moron at the record label. For some reason, this record works.
From the (small amount of) reading that I’ve done, it appears that The Cramps were not involved in the compiling of this album; that it’s just a soulless moneymaker for the band and their label. If I’m basing the decision of if I like Bad Music solely on the tunes within, though, than I don’t have any complaints. It’s pretty solid, if fairly conventional, ’70s and ’80s punk rock. It’s a sound that you can’t just wander into—I know that it took me a while to get interested in this stuff. But once you do, it is really awesome. Apparently, lots of the lyrics are based on the plots of old B Movies, which is actually pretty hilarious. Maybe I need to check out more by these guys.
Swole Ear 
I’m gonna chug it out to get onboard
To put one foot up
To put another foot up
Put another foot up and you’re onboard the drug train
I couldn’t resist. I just love the part about the 3 feet.
Mr. Ear-itating, you should cut your dad a little slack. He seems like an excellent guy and has given you some excellent picks, including Lynyrd Sknyrd and Funkadelic. In the case of BMFBP, as I recall, nobody really knew it was a compilation album at the time because everyone was spellbound by the cover, which is an all time great cover on its own, and as an emblem of the music within. I’m sure it was the same with your dad. As you recognize, the nature of the music probably means that The Cramps weren’t putting out cohesive albums that tell a story with a beginning, middle and end, anyway, so what’s the big deal. I know you have to churn out 250-500 words a day, but covering your nut with gratuitous Dad-hate doesn’t reflect well upon you.