Mick Jagger and Dave Grohl: Primitive Fools

This childish rant is exactly what “Eazy Sleazy” deserves

Jagger and Grohl Glitched (Art: Ron Hart)

“Eazy Sleazy” is the sound of Mick Jagger and Dave Grohl shooting a cell phone video of the faces they make while masturbating, and when they tire of that, they vainly attempt to jack off into the open mouth of an expensive love doll wearing a T-shirt that says, “Rock is Dead.” 

“Oh, we will save you with our fame-whoring, completely out of touch billionaire seed,” our would-be heroes proclaim, before becoming predictably flaccid. “We will do so by creating something that sounds like G.E. Smith imitating the Sex Pistols imitating the Faces! That will show them!”

But of course, Rock ‘n’ Roll is not dead – oh, far, far from it – yet Grohl and Jagger have presumed it is, and made the spurious assumption that nothing short of this horrifying collaboration can save it. I can think of no other reason why this offensive poop splat exists. This is the narrative that Grohl and Jagger need to believe, and which guided the creation of this unnecessary disgrace, this grotesque scar on the face of whatever aspect of their legacies remains untarnished. 

So there’s that. 

But it doesn’t matter, and that’s the main thing: “Eazy Sleazy” – my god, what a ridiculous name, did it come from a pile of song titles Greta Van Fleet rejected for being too clichéd? — has nothing to do with our lives. Simple damn fact. It is a Franklin Mint commemorative plate that says “Rock ‘n’ Roll.” It has nothing to do with us, or our profound history with Rock ‘n’ Roll. It has nothing to do with why we fell in love with Rock ‘n’ Roll. It is an object that displaces an extremely limited amount of cultural water, and exists only – and I mean only – because the cardboard-minded creators of this object thought it ought to exist. You don’t need this. No one did. 

Mick Jagger with Dave Grohl “Eazy Sleazy”, Interscope 2021

The larger picture is this: This sort of atrocity is a call to arms. 

Do you believe one of these two things? 

  1. Rock means something. Not only is it sound of America’s disenfranchised classes and willing and unwilling immigrants made electric, it is also the flag underneath we found our social tribes and peers. It is our heart, and it is our history. For these reasons and more, it is worth celebrating, and attaching a greater meaning to. By doing so, we affirm its’ social and political power. 
  2. Rock music still has the power to inform, instruct, narrate, and recount our great social upheavals and protests. This ability may be hidden, but the potential is always there. Our next Joe Keithly, Pete Seeger, Campino, Billy Bragg, Phil Ochs, Billy Childish, Victor Jara, or Joe Strummer are out there, just waiting for us to wade through all the bullshit to find them. 

“Essen Pissin” (I can no longer bring myself to write the actual stupid fucking title) displays how desperately far we have fallen from the Eden of Meaning and Origin. At another time, very soon, I will address the disease. Right now, we will talk about this horrific symptom. I mean, why does this thing, this “Freedy Blazzie,” exist? It exists because these jackasses mistakenly think it will somehow throw the devil horns at the music world, and assert a relevance that no one was questioning, because no one assumed Grohl or Jagger were relevant in the first place. “Eazter Sunzdaze” sounds like it was made by people who had read Wiki entries about the Sex Pistols, the Dolls, or the Rolling Stones, but never actually heard those bands. Imagine the worst guitar face you ever saw G.E. Smith make (G.E. Smith reference No. 2); then imagine someone was told, “Translate that into a song, but make it sound a little, oh, Hot Topic-y.” 

For the record, here is what this horrorschau achieves, and also its reason for being: 

  • Mick Jagger says:  “You’re never too old to make a completely misguided credibility grab!”
  • Mick Jagger says: “My efforts to put my son in a fake punk band in that Vinyl mishegas completely failed, so I’ll get into a fake punk band with that Nirvana guy! who said PopPop wasn’t cool and with it!” 
  • Mick says:  “You know how you can TELL I’m punk rock? Listen to that working class accent!” 
  • Dave Grohl says: “Look, ma! I can play all the instruments! Make sure we show that in the video, I don’t want anyone thinking I brought in G.E. Smith or anything, as if I could be so lucky! (G.E. Smith reference No. 3. You can’t have too many when you discuss the sad defenestration of rock.)
  • Dave Grohl says: “Look, ma! I’m still punk rock!”
  • Dave Grohl says:  “Look, ma! I’m pals with Mick Jagger! Kurt felt it was cool to meet Mike Watt and Michael Stipe, but I hang with Mick! Maybe he can introduce me to Jeff Lynne!” 

Honestly, that sad little checklist is why this fetid thing was made. 

Listen, The Foo Fighters are merely mediocre, which is not a crime. It really isn’t, and I can never write the words “Foo Fighters” without also writing “They mean well.” What was a crime was that the establishment music industry and entertainment media, grasping at straws in the confusing age of Clickety Click, was so eager to hand someone so resolutely mediocre a crown. And I can’t blame Grohl for so readily collecting baskets of money from people so willing to hand it over. Springsteen suffered from much the same syndrome, except that Springsteen’s mediocrity was occasionally interrupted by moments of actual transcendence, and transcendence is something that has never blessed the house of Dave Grohl. 


VIDEO: Foo Fighters “Big Me”

Mind you, I did find something interesting in the Temple Grandin-less cattle chute death scream that is “Slurpee Eddie” (or whatever it’s called). This is the fascinating, further evolution of Mick Jagger’s ridiculous accent. The progression and regression of Mick Jagger’s accent is something that should be studied at higher universities, and it is a constant, profound and rock-solid indictment of what a total ass he is. The first spoken audio of Mick (around the time of his emergence into the public eye) reveals a solidly middle class southern English accent, with evidence of the upwardly mobile aspirations of his family and education. Around 1967, when he was a leading figure in the movement to take rock “seriously” and he was eager to show off his social and artistic pretentions, Mick adapted a distinctly posher upper class accent. But by the mid-1970s, when punk was beginning to rear its’ head and Mick became afraid of being considered old and out of step, his accent assumed a completely false working class lilt, and it has stayed that way ever since. “Eeekzy Mouzzy” marks the absolute nadir of Mick’s attempts to assume a working class or punk veneer, since he sings the song in his most obscenely fake faux-East London working class accent yet. It so extreme, so transparent, that it genuinely sounds like ol’ Grohl may have played him the Cockney Rejects before recording. Jagger’s accent on this track has devolved to such a state that it can likely best be compared to Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. I mean, it’s that bad, it really is, and if I had never heard of Mick Jagger, I would have assumed he was some old American comedian deliberately trying to make a fake-sounding English “punk rock” accent. Speaking of which, I can think of one person who will probably believe that “Wheezy Jeffersonzy” is the real deal: That gentleman’s name, of course, is Jimmy Fallon. 

True, I have heard worst songs than ““Fleezy Sluicy,” though few that were so conceptually rancid, transparent, and venomous (at least it’s not as bad as Weezer’s “Africa,” but then nothing is, not even Tarkus). What offends me, at the end of the day, is not how horrible this song is. It’s real sin is that it’s taking up oxygen that could be far, far better used to celebrate all the amazing music out there, all that amazing Russian hardcore and Polish stoner metal and Caterina Barbieri and William Loveday Intention and on and on. 

Ultimately, This is what “Sloppy Mommy” tells us: It is time to go underground again. It is time to gather a thousand tribes, which will one day coalesce into a force that can change the economic imbalance of the industry, and create some sort of equivalency between the music of the quick clickers and the music that saves our lives and flies our flags. 


VIDEO: Mick Jagger with Dave Grohl “Eazy Sleazy”


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Tim Sommer

Tim Sommer is a musician, record producer, former Atlantic Records A&R representative, WNYO DJ, MTV News correspondent, VH1 VJ, and founding member of the band Hugo Largo. He is the author of Only Wanna Be with You: The Inside Story of Hootie & the Blowfish and has written for publications such as Trouser Press, the Observer and The Village Voice. Learn more at Tim Sommer Writing.

4 thoughts on “Mick Jagger and Dave Grohl: Primitive Fools

  • April 24, 2021 at 9:05 am

    Dude. Chill.

    I suppose Mick killed your dog too?

    Haven’t heard this song, don’t intend to. Couldn’t care less anout it.

    I’ll just put on, and enjoy, Sticky Fingers while I bang your “Sloppy Mommy” again. She enjoys it too. ALL of it.

    • April 25, 2021 at 3:50 pm

      Ha! Love this. I think you, truly, appreciated the spirit of the piece. Im glad you took the time to read and respond (I mean that). Can’t take this stuff too seriously!

  • April 24, 2021 at 12:30 pm

    Oh, come on. “Eazy Sleazy” isn’t nearly the atrocity Mick’s video duet with David Bowie on “Dancing in the Street” was, 36 years ago, or the ludicrous SuperHeavy project of a decade ago. In the words of another artist who, in my view, lost all credibility around a million years ago, when you ain’t got nothin’, you got nothin’ to lose. Also, Tim rather mischaracterises the jawdropping thing that is the Jagger accent. I’ve lived in London for most of this century, and he sounds to me much more as though trying to sound black American than Mockney.

  • April 24, 2021 at 3:03 pm

    Not gonna post my comment, eh?

    Hey, Timmy’s the one who said “Sloppy Mommy” first. I just assumed he was talking about his own… Because, you know, I’ve had her.


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