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Charlotte Man Has Nation's Unparalleled Worst Taste in Music

Based on data and records illegally obtained from Tidal, Apple Music, YouTube, Spotify, CIA, FBI, NSA and other organizations, we've determined that Charlotte, NC, man Rence Tomkins has the nation's worst taste in music. It's so unsparingly derelict in fact, that we had to check, recheck, and cross-reference names and numbers out of sheer disbelief that anyone could possibly seemingly ONLY enjoy songs and artists the general public shares a visceral distaste for.

Neither genre nor era stood in the way of this man's apparent actual enjoyment of songs that have been roundly dismissed and ridiculed by the majority of people with working auditory organs.

An inconceivable vortex of shitty music consumption, Tomkins' recent Spotify listens include Nickelback's "Something in Your Mouth," Tyga's "Rack City," and Luke Bryan's "That's My Kind of Night." This unicorn of dumpster-fire art enjoyment has also purchased Afroman's "Because I Got High," a Fergie album, and Starship's "We Built This City" from iTunes in the past 3 weeks.

According to Tomkins' somehow real and not hacked Facebook page, he, in 2015, traveled 2,400 miles by car to see Rusted Root, and plans this year to attend a Florida-Georgia Line show with openers Nelly, Backstreet Boys, and Chris Lane. His profile photo features Rence passed out in a chair, clad only in swimtrunks and a Creed t-shirt.

The unfeasibly disagreeable digital paper trail leads next to YouTube, where Tomkins can be found on his lunch breaks watching lyric videos from the putrid Soulja Boy or defending the tone deaf Kane Brown from "haters" in the comments section. He has thumbed up the ungodly likes of "Macarena," "Achy Breaky Heart," "Red Solo Cup," (Desiigner's) "Panda," and anything by the Black Eyed Peas.

Calls to Tomkins went unanswered but we did note that he still used a ring-back tone and that it was, obviously, Hoobastank. In a thorough review of literally every odious song he'd ever listened to online, only Poison's "Unskinny Bop" rose to the level of merely "really bad."

At press time, Mr. Tomkins was singing the Chainsmokers' "Closer" into a spatula in front of his Samsung Microwave.

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Honest Billboard Song Feature: Chris Lane "For Her"

Billboard's weekly country update newsletter has a few small song features about charting singles every week. Here's our take on Chris Lane's from this week's issue.

Rollin’ and Tumblin’ with the King of The Slide Guitar, Elmore James

Rollin’ and Tumblin’ with the King of The Slide Guitar, Elmore James

by Robert Dean

In the annals of the blues, there are a few guys who get the nod for all time: Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Skip James, Leadbelly, Charley Patton, Robert Johnson, etc. But, then there are the deeper cuts, the artists people talk about, but it’s unsure if they really know them. The thing about the blues is that, despite being one of the cultural backbones of American identity, much of its lore is shrouded in darkness. Which, for its context works for the music and gives a thumbprint like no other.

One artist who continually reaches up out of the murk and grabs you straight like a zombie from the grave is the slide guitar mad man, Elmore James. While his name might feel familiar, or you’ve heard him mentioned on a rock and roll documentary – you have.

His legend isn’t that of those mentioned before him. There aren’t movies in the works, books about him are hard to come by (at last count there’s a whopping one), and his records aren’t collector’s items. James is an underground, under-appreciated legend of the blues. He may not be a household name, but if you ask anyone who knows the blues, and they’ll all agree he’s paramount to all comers.

Ranked #30 of Rolling Stone’s greatest guitar players of all time, James was a guitar player who defied what the blues could sound like. While Muddy’s playing is concise, tight, Elmore James riffs are nasty as a dead possum lying in a gutter. He played an acoustic with a pickup drilled in, which gave his sound a ghastly, ghoulish quality unlike anyone else in that late 50’s classic blues era. Coming up from Mississippi, James’ music wasn’t quite the Chicago sound, but something that met at the crossroads of the new school brewing in the north, but firmly rooted in the traditions of the Deep South.

Dust My Broom is quintessential James filth, The Sky is Crying was a roof burner long before Stevie Ray Vaughn ever covered it. Go through the Elmore James catalog and you’ll see all of the greatest tipped their caps to the man known as “The King of The Slide Guitar.”

Other bluesmen feared James with his raucous performances and envied how good he was with a guitar in his hands. No one knew how to play a slide guitar like Elmore James. His ferocious playing, coupled with his raspy, growling voice, he was a unique talent, in the vein of Howlin’ Wolf. When Elmore made his way up to Chicago, he was ready. Packing the clubs, and cutting records, James was poised to be a force to be reckoned with in the world of popular music.

But, life eluded James early. At just 45, Elmore James died of a heart attack. He was on the heels of establishing himself as one of the premier bluesmen. He was booked for his first European trip with the world looking bright as the sun. Today, we’re left with a treasure trove of records that swings, that growls and moans. Elmore James isn’t a household name, not for lack of trying but because death came too early for such an enigmatic soul. Get right with the universe and get Elmore James into your life. If you have the slightest interest in the blues, there’s none finer than The King who was gone too soon.