It also helps if his publicist makes sure to DICTATE that writers slant articles on him to: "he's not an old geezer doing oldies hits, but a super relevant BLUES artist."
IF I'M BEING HONEST, if Van the Prick dressed like anyone else, nobody would look at him twice. So he amps up the pose (he's just an old man with his arms up in the air, but it seems freakin' awesome). He purses his lips (it takes the eye away from his jowls). The hat hides just how old he is, as do the shades that obscure the wrinkles under his eyes.
With a little help from the world of FASHION, this surly jerk who hasn't had a hit in 40 years, can continue to glower and snarl, and pretend that he couldn't be knocked on his ass by one punch from Adele, or even Viley Virus. Even in his prime, he sounded like a goose with a head cold.
Now he's going back to the White Rocker's sleaziest gambit: stealin' from the niggers. He's MR. BLUES. Sure he is. Oh yeah. Come on, farts, all you comfy racists who don't have ANY nigger records at home. You won't buy Robert Johnson or Muddy Waters and won't even hire a black maid to care for your brats. BUT, you'll PRETEND to have rockin' SOUL by nodding your head and watching this pudgy clown, hardly bigger than Paul Simon, bleat and sputter like two pounds of fat in a frying pan. Why no pictures of guitar hero Beck? Aw, he didn't come out of wardrobe in time?
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