It started innocently enough, when Commander Sue tweeted that she was pleased that her Pandora station was playing 1970s era soft rock, and that America was assuring her that she could do magic. JD responded supportively, quoting the band Player, and then Sue claimed she has been somewhat let down by the introduction of Barry Manilow. This caused Grave Writer to protest that she would never take a road trip with either of them due to their, in her view, poor music taste. To offer some aid to my good friend and fellow commander, I unknowing fired the first salvos in the war, posting a link to the aforementioned Player song Baby Come Back:
This resulted in a negative reaction from Grave Writer, and realizing combat was about to begin, I fired the next shot quickly with England Dan and I'd Really Love to See You Tonight:
At this point is was not so much a war as it was the posting of excellent music from the soft rock era of the 1970s. JD offered Christopher Cross singing Ride Like the Wind as the hardest that soft rock could get:
But as that song is a little light on the bass, I offered Neil Diamond's America, which I believe used as much bass as any soft rock song ever written. As a bonus, the video has Laurence Olivier, which I think any is a status that no other music video can lay claim to.
And because Barry Manilow had been mentioned, there was no option but to follow Neil Diamond with Mandy. Because no mobilization of 1970s soft rock would be complete without some Manilow.
But while this had been going on, Grave Writer had been gathering her forces, and when she struck, she struck hard, lashing out with Metallica and Disposable Heroes. Grave Writer declared full scale war, and The Great Twitter Music War of 2013 had begun in earnest.
But Grave Writer's attack was blunted when Seals & Croft playing Summer Breeze were brought to the battlefield, a force which not even Metallica could overcome.
But a foe as imposing as Grave Writer was not going to go down that easily. She reached into her arsenal and produced Tool's Prison Sex, blasting great holes in the battlefield:
JD jumped in to defend against Grave Writer's latest attack, pointing out that if it was to be war, we may as well play War. At least their song Lowrider:
I knew that we had to pull out the heavy hitters, so I went with the ultimate 1970s soft rock band, resorting to the use of Bread. This was a serious escalation of hostilities, as there are few songs quite as soft rock as Make It With You, and few bands as relentlessly white-bread in nature as Bread. But in times of war, tough decisions are called for, and in an effort to put an end to this destructive conflict and save lives, I made the call that a full scale assault of this nature was needed.
Grave Writer's response to the double assault was predictable really. Backed into a corner by the twinned attack, she unleashed the Guns N'Roses, but in the view of the historians who have looked over the Great Twitter Music War of 2013, she made a tactical error by deploying them in the Right Next Door to Hell formation, which was not one of their better maneuvers.
Hampered by their leader's orders, Guns n'Roses was vulnerable to counterattack, and counterattack came quickly, as ABBA went into guerrilla warfare mode with Fernando, who were able to confuse Grave Writer's forces and defeat them in detail.
At this point, Grave Writer was becoming desperate. Her forces were in disarray. Her territory was being invaded on two fronts. With nowhere else to turn, she resorted to bringing out System of a Down playing Psycho. It was really a maneuver of last resort, but it was a powerful move which might have turned the tide of battle for her.
I had no choice but to bring out the obscure Russian guns. Actually guns from Jamaica, Montserrat, and Aruba by way of Germany singing about a Russian. To sum up, I pulled out Boney M singing Ra-Ra-Rasputin, which represented yet another escalation of the conflict, as it introduced disco to the war. This was a dangerous move, because disco is an insidious weapon to be deployed only in the most careful manner. But because I was invoking an obscure band few in the war had ever heard of singing a song that was new to most of the combatants other than me, it was a calculated gamble.
And the gamble paid off. Invoking disco brought aid from an unexpected quarter, as a new ally for the side of soft rock entered the fray when Talia put the Limousines singing Internet Killed the Video Star into the field.
But even though Grave Writer was apparently out of troops to put on the field, she still had angry rhetoric to retaliate with, and she was soon asserting that the 1970s were dead and gone. This propaganda could not go unanswered, and so The Eagles were deployed, parachuting in to stake their claim to continued relevance with I Can't Tell You Why.
But since Talia had put the Limousines into battle, they needed proper support, so I quickly reinforced her with some vintage forces, moving the Buggles into position with Video Killed the Radio Star.
But Grave Writer would not relent, asserting that disco was as dead as John Travolta's reputation. This was the final straw. Faced with the possible loss of untold millions of lives, I did the only thing I could, deploying the nuclear weaponry that had been held back until now. Once they had been brought up, nothing could stop the Travolta bombs from being used. First, Let Her In destroyed Hiroshima.
And then I put forward the only thing more potent than John Travolta warbling out a love song: John Travolta teamed up with the Captain and Tennille singing a cover of an Elton John and Kiki Dee song. Yes, that's right, the war was ended by a cover version of Don't Go Breaking My Heart. Nagasaki was annihilated by this attack.
For the most part, the war was over. The true horrors of conflict had been unleashed, and there was little to do but try and rebuild and figure out what it had all meant. Commander Sue asked where Let Her In had been found, wondering how a weapon that powerful and that obscure could be located, calling it something "from the pit of hell". But that was not the most difficult weapon in the arsenal to locate. After all, I had held David Naughton's Makin' It in reserve, and since the war was all but over, I could reveal it in all its glory.
But there were even more dangerous secret experiments under development as hostilities ended. After all, we had to be ready for the next war, which would surely escalate into nuclear-musical fire in short order. So, in the interest of stockpiling munitions, we returned to Bony M, keeping Daddy Cool in reserve, just in case. And if needed, David Naughton's Dr. Pepper commercial spots could be used as well.
The war had ended. The casualties on both sides were enormous. But the world had been made safe for 1970s soft rock and obscure disco once again. Was it worth it? Was the vast wasteland of dead musical notes and spent dance moves offset by the gains made? To answer that question, you'd have to ask a veteran. And for this veteran, the answer is yes.
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