Whether or not you care to admit it, entrance music can make or break the career of a professional wrestler. Time and time again, I have seen an up-and-coming grappler walk down the aisle to a generic, uptempo rock song in hopes of becoming the next great superstar, only to fade into the bottomless pit of obscurity soon after. While the road to wrestling superstardom is often difficult, a bad wrestling theme makes the road trip twice as hard. I feel for the unfortunate men and women who must amble out in their unfortunate spandex costumes to these audible monstrosities. Not only do they have to wrestle in front of ten thousand people in their chrome undergarments, but they must enter to the sound of an electric guitar regurgitating white noise over baby electric guitars. Apparently, those baby electric guitars in their electric guitar nest crave terrible music.
Aside from a few exceptions, World Wrestling Entertainment does not know how to create an effective entrance theme anymore. What happened to Stone Cold Steve Austin's pulse-pounding theme that could shatter any decorative pane of glass inconveniently placed before him? What became of Mankind's chilling piano theme before Mankind discovered the joys of wearing ties and scarfing down Chef Boyardee? Better yet, how about Randy Savage's never-rending graduation ceremony? Has he or has not received his degree in international relations from Texas A & M yet? According to today's WWE, an eye-catching entrance does not require distinct music. As long as each wrestler has a basic pyrotechnic display, a looping Titantron that features the wrestler looking angry and sad, and a theme that begins with the wrestler's name and favourite member of the Joy Luck Club (Ying Ying St. Clair, of course), they believe that performer is good to go. What a shame in the membrane.
Whenever I walk into the room, I want that room's attention; I want everyone to notice me. I want the people in that room to appreciate my walking skills. When you expect my arrival, you best believe you are about to get an amazing introduction. Without fail, I make the first impression count. From the start, I don't bother winning you over with my wit or charming you with my mere presence. Every time I need to make an entrance, I roll up in my periwinkle, 2002 Kia Sephia with a sliding door for an actual car door, tilt my old lady swimming cap to the side, barge into the joint, and play my flute like a gangster. If you can't play the flute like a gangster, you might as well not play the flute at all. I am told that Los Angeles gangs do not battle with fists or firearms. To settle the score, they engage in rounds of violent flute-playing. This is not red versus blue. This is a matter of side-blown flutes versus end-blown flutes.
Anybody who is anybody loves Santino Marella's Italian, operatic entrance theme. Say what you will about the delicious Subway sandwich stealer, but Santino's "La Vittoria è Mia (Victory Is Mine)" is an international treasure. If I had such a theme song, I would not only steal delicious Subway sandwiches. Most likely, I would put on a pair of latex gloves and steal delicious Subway sandwich ingredients as well. I would have fat free honey mustard in one hand, a mound of mayonnaise in the other hand, and a grin on my delicious-Subway-sandwich-ingredient-stealing face. Correct me if I am wrong for the first time in my existence, but Marella's theme is unlike any other song in the current wrestling scene. I do not see why WWE hesitates to return to the operatic entrance theme well for another hit. Yet again, I will have to guide them to the bright light.
Hardcore and softcore video gamers alike may recognize the late Maria Callas' "O Mio Babbino Caro" as the song from the official trailer for Grand Theft Auto III. The beautiful song itself conveys intense feelings of heartache, lost hope, and self-loathing in a chaotic time. The singer's unrequited love for another is too much for her to handle. For the sake of Peter, Paul, and Mary, she wants to throw herself into a river and not live. In my opinion, professional wrestling was made to be melodramatic. Therefore, Callas' "O Mio Babbino Caro" is perfect for the entertainment sport. I envision this song as the theme for a man or woman on the brink of insanity. Imagine a wrestler exacting poetic, bloody revenge on his or her rivals to this song. If WWE heeds my word, they'll be throwing themselves into a river, too -- a river of sexy greatness.
Now that the summer of 2008 is about to come to a close, did you enjoy the summer movie season? Did you watch Indiana Jones eat bowl after bowl of All-Bran so he could garner enough fibre to fight his archaeological foes? Were you one of the two moviegoers who met Dave? Most of all, did you find out why you were so serious? Were you so serious because you discovered that your dog was bisexual? Here, here. If you haven't heard and adored the Smashing Pumpkins' "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" by now, you might as tell your parents the bad news: you are a failure at everything. You fail so badly that you fail at failing. While I am aware that your parents have high hopes for you, I don't see success and happiness in your future. To start off your life as an immortal failure, here is your lifetime bus pass, your one-room apartment above a shady Korean nail salon, and your Sylvester Terkay t-shirt.
From my experience as a professional wrestling analyst, World Wrestling Entertainment defines haunting music as a flamboyant ghost chanting in a nonsensical fashion with the backup of a broken organ. Yes, I admit that the Undertaker and Kane have had quality themes in their respective careers. With that said, every dark character in WWE should not have the same type of song. With “The Beginning is the End is the Beginning,” WWE obtains an entrance theme that is truly unsettling. In comparison, Kane's first entrance theme encourages me to electric slide in a thunderstorm. Also, Undertaker's gong-tastic ditty makes me want to brush my shoulders off in a pet cemetery. Without question, "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" forces me to put on two pairs of Depends when I usually need one.
Minutes ago, an incident occurred between myself and an unnamed female. Insider sources inform me that the female in question was five years of age and I was six years old. Due to our youth and interest in cost effective, playtime activities, we chose to ride on horses constructed out of wooden sticks. Since I preferred clothing colours that absorbed heat, I wore black. In turn, she preferred clothing colours that reflected heat. Thus, she wore white. In most cases of competition, I was victorious for I possessed superior wooden-stick-riding skills. Using onomatopoeic words to communicate the sound of loud gunshots, I uttered, "bang bang," and shot her body downwards. With a second "bang bang," her body struck the ground below her. On the third "bang bang," she declared my utterance as an awful noise to hear. With the final "bang bang," I was considered to be an infant who shot her body downwards. Did she survive? Are organic foods actually organic? The answer may surprise you. More at eleven.
Before Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill introduced us to this classy tune, Nancy Sinatra was best known as either Frank Sinatra's less talented daughter or the zany woman who claimed that her boots were made for walking. Some people loved that her boots were made for walking, while others believed that the efforts of her boots should have been utilized for more honourable causes, such as providing education for underprivileged children from third world countries. To my dismay, World Wrestling Entertainment is all about rocking and or rolling. Why can't professional wrestling have some spaghetti Western flare? Many wrestling fans claim that Kurt Angle and Ric Flair could wrestle entertaining matches with a broom. If you allow that broom to enter the ring to "Bang Bang," that broom automatically surpasses Angle and Flair in both talent and popularity.
I cannot let the wrestling industry go on without an entrance theme that resembles a funky Tetris song. In fact, I cannot comprehend how WWE has thrived this long without a theme that resembles a funky Tetris song. As a loyal fan, how can you sleep at night knowing that professional wrestling lacks a theme that resembles a funky Tetris song? In life, you can never go wrong with such a song. Without this music, I cannot move and link tetrominoes with grace or efficiency. In reality, I am a poor to mediocre tetromino mover. Sorry to break the news to you and yours. A tremendous human being like myself can only be tremendous at so many things.
The electronic music duo known as Ratatat understands that rhythmic bleeps and bloops make the world go 'round with "Seventeen Years," a song which should the official soundtrack for futuristic robots in space or masked wrestlers from Russia. All World Wrestling Entertainment needs to do is hire a masked Russian robot who prefers high flying over technical wrestling or brawling. Once the Stamford brass brings in Gavrilovich Preobavhensky: The Moonsaulting Robot from the Year 3223, they will have themselves an instant star. Clearing four lines at the same time will be Gavrilovich Preobavhensky's first order of business. A world title victory should be his next order of business, unless he must oil up his stiff joints first. If he has stiff joints, he will require WD-40. In lieu of WD-40, he will accept Space Margarine as a substitute joint lubricant.
In my opinion, instrumental songs are just as good if not better than lyrical songs. After all, entrance theme lyrics are not the most intelligent or original in sports. They may use different words or phrases, but most of them say, "I'm going to win because you are sucky. I'm a nice wrestler compared to the others. I have to win that gold belt because it holds up my pants." Sure, those qualities are important to a wrestler, especially his or her ability to hold up pants. Then again, I don't care about wrestlers’ pants or devices that wrestlers employ to keep their pants in the upwards position. Next time, maybe they should try those pants at the store before they buy them. Why do I have to learn about their poor pants purchases? I critique professional wrestling, not a wrestler's ill-advised garment acquisition.
If you think Gianfranco Reverberi's "Nel Cimitero Di Tuscon" sounds familiar, you are correct, sir and or madam. For one, this song concludes the 1968 Western Preparati La Bara! (Django, Prepare a Coffin). For two, "Nel Cimitero Di Tuscon" was the sample beat for "Crazy," Gnarls Barkley's 2006 summer hit. I'm not crazy for suggesting this tune, am I? Probably. If Nancy Sinatra's "Bang, Bang" does not want you to engage in a high-noon standoff, "Nel Cimitero Di Tuscon" should do the trick. The other day, I put this song on repeat, travelled to Arizona, and suplexed a scruffy cowboy onto a pointy cactus. I know I was supposed to use a gun, but I could not help myself. When I panic, I tend to suplex people onto objects. I apologize to the two lingerie models whom I met in the States. I didn't mean to suplex either of you onto that weathervane. I didn't know the touch of a woman at the time. I was three months old.
In Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, French race car driver Jean Girard became the king of NASCAR to this song. I know this NASCAR comedy is fictional, but I wish it was real. If this film was real, I could finally advertise my adoration for Wonder Bread without judgement. As I write this piece, I’m wearing nothing but Wonder Bread wrappers.
In WWE, French wrestlers should be able to use Maria LaForet's "Marie Douceur, Marie Colère" to help them ascend to the main event. LaForet's version of The Rolling Stones song has an aggressive, retro, psychedelic sound. When you give a young French wrestler "Marie Douceur, Marie Colère," you let that wrestler make an immediate “Frenchified” impact. Before that wrestler steps into the ring, wrestling audiences everywhere will take notice. In fact, they have to take notice. From the first note, this track hits you like an unavoidable tornado punch to the throat.
Professional wrestling could do a lot more with French characters than portray them as evil foreigners who despise American culture. As for me, I am dead tired of the evil foreigner gimmick. From this point forward, I demand that all foreigners in professional wrestling must drop their evil persona and adopt a wise talking bald eagle as their sidekick. These foreigners can take their bald eagle sidekicks to horror films. During the movie, the eagle can be all like, "Don't you go in those woods, white girl. There's a monster in them trees."
Detroit, Michigan's mysterious tandem of Jack White and Meg White are better known as The White Stripes. As World Wrestling Entertainment's fascination with late 90s nu-metal and Kid Rock proceeds to flourish, bands like The White Stripes offer stripped down, alternative rock music with the type of grit that is synonymous with lasting entrance themes. Out of their entire catalogue, their cover version of Son House's "Death Letter" has a thick, lumbering blues beat that can best accentuate any big man's entrance to the ring. I'm looking at you, Funaki. I'm always looking at you. My reading glasses were made to read nobody but Funaki.
You don't have to be a fan of The White Stripes to appreciate "Death Letter" as a possible entrance theme. Even if you find Jack White's voice to be grating to the ears, consider this theme as an instrumental. As you play "Death Letter" in your modern cassette players, you will involuntary swagger to the music. Despite your efforts to stop swaggering, you will continue to swagger. If a stranger chops off your legs, "Death Letter" will force your torso to swagger along the rough pavement. If another stranger comes along and chops off your torso, why don't you stay at home for the day? What are you doing that encourages random strangers to hack your body into bits?
To my knowledge, "The House of the Rising Sun" has no original songwriter. In the 1960s, The Animals released their rendition, which is arguably the most popular version of the song. Since "The House of the Rising Sun" has no original songwriter, I am going to guess John Cena wrote it. Even World Wrestling Entertainment is aware that John Cena can do no wrong. John Cena is the answer to every question asked by man. Who was the first person to walk on the moon? John Cena in an astronaut suit. Who was the first woman to vote? John Cena in drag. Where do babies come from? When a John Cena and a John Cena are in love, they decide to make produce John Cenas as a symbol of that John Cenan love. Then, John Cena turns into a stork and delivers John Cena to a mother's doorstep. The doorstep is John Cena.
Why do I think that "The House of the Rising Sun" is a fitting entrance theme? This song sends a powerful message. This song warns its listeners about the overindulgence of vices. This song communicates the horrors of corruption. In the end, this song is for the bad guy who is too far gone to correct his bad decisions, and for the good guy who struggles to fight off the worst in himself. Professional wrestling builds its characters from their actions, inside and outside of the ring. Wrestlers turn into heroes for doing the right thing. Wrestlers become villains for doing the wrong thing. Total Nonstop Action does not believe in the concept of heroes and villains. In other words, TNA wants to be the number two wrestling promotion for forever. For me, no story in wrestling is as compelling as a babyface who succumbs to his inner heelish desires. Give me Hulk Hogan's transformation into Hollywood Hogan over Samoa Joe's feud with baseball bats any day of the year of the decade of the century.
Longtime followers of The Swerved may deem Noreaga's "Superthug" as the unofficial theme song of the site. In response, those longtime followers would be correct. Puffy gold star stickers with googly eyes to several of you. For years, I have championed "Superthug" as an undisputable star maker and infallible powerhouse. In the history of "Superthug," this track has brought an end to multigenerational family feuds and absolute dictatorships. When Aladdin is not stealing bread from local merchants, he is grinding with Jasmine in the Arabian clubs to this song. A while ago, I specifically urged former First Lady and current New York Senator Hillary Clinton to use "Superthug" for her Democratic presidential campaign. Because she did not use this song, she did not become the Democratic presidential candidate. William Jefferson Clinton is ashamed to be your acting spouse in a non-physical relationship, Hillary. When Hillary is not around, Bill plays "Superthug" on his saxophone. Count on it. This is the exact reason why the ladies still dig him.
I will not attempt to convince World Wrestling Entertainment further. Sometimes, lost causes cannot be found. If WWE cannot comprehend the brilliance that is Noreaga's "Superthug," may World Championship Wrestling resurrect itself and topple Vince's wrestling empire. For the naysayers who claim that "Superthug" cannot defeat WWE, you must remind yourselves that everyday thuggery is vastly inferior to superthuggery. Get your head in the game. What, what, what, what, what, what, what, ladies and gentlemen? Several decades from now, I will plan out my will. Noreaga's "Superthug" shall marry my future wives and take care of my future legitimate and illegitimate children.
Besides Ric Flair's "Also sprach Zarathustra," otherwise known as the theme to 2001: A Space Odyssey, classical music is a wrestling rarity. On a superficial level, the grandiose sound of classical music best complements the pompous wrestling character. Picture a performer who struts out with the backing of a fifty-piece orchestra. How does that wrestler not succeed? When I feel down, I hire an orchestra to follow me wherever I go. How do I feed them? They share a gigantic marshmallow square. Sadly, they drink from a dirty sidewalk puddle. I'm made of flesh and bone, not money.
Only the crazies relate Queens of the Stone Age to classical music. When you hear The Vitamin String Quartet's version of "No One Knows," you will bask in their craziness. Their rendition shall confuse you with its excellence. At song's end, you will not know what to do with yourself. You may have the urge to become a vampire. You may wish to share your milkshake with a lonely werewolf. Finally, you may challenge Frankenstein to a heated debate about world issues in the center of the ring. What will you two bring to the table that Scott Steiner and Christopher Nowinski did not?
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