*Attention, SAT word inventors: the English language is sorely lacking a word that means "a song stuck in my head." Please get cracking on it. Thank you. Also, this post apparently is leaning heavily on parenthetical asides, which I generally find disruptive to the flow of prose but was unable to lay off of tonight. My apologies.
It is now time to get back to one of the grandest, least commented upon traditions on this blog: overanalyzing pop music. I'm not entirely sure what drives me to obsessively hone in on every tiny little element I like and don't like in music, but it's there, it's not going away, so I just accept it and deal.
The result of this obsession and my unwillingness to fight it is that I am particularly vulnerable to song-stuck-in-headedness (again, need a nice, tight vocab word to express this phrase more naturally. The College Board, this is where you can give back after taking so, so much.) As I have so much experience with the phenomenon, I am working on a taxonomy of songs stuck in the head. It is still a work in progress, but I thought I'd give you a few archetypes I have experienced lately:
1. Songs you'd rather not admit you know all the words to: Singing, humming, bobbing, or mild dancing is never acceptable in public and already subjects the person to more than their fair share of public scorn. "Look at that rube," the public thinks, "singing and dancing and humming as if he enjoys music. Who enjoys music these days? What's up with that?" I generally find this baffling and chalk it up to people's primal urge to destroy anyone that they perceive might be having more fun than them (see also: war on drugs, war on sex, and basically wars in general). This public scorn is and should be intensified if the person is mouthing all of the words to "Always" by Erasure, for example. This is the most dreaded type of song to get stuck in your head.
2. Songs you only know the chorus to or songs with very few lyrics: Another deadly category, this applies mostly to catchy songs with choruses that are repeated a zillion times in its 3 minute duration, leaving you with only enough to repeat a tiny song fragment periodically for all of eternity, or at least the afternoon. It's the aural equivalent of Chinese Water Torture. It's annoying for the person with it stuck in their head, but truly pity their poor, poor coworkers who have to spend every second of the 30 minute van ride listening to them sing the chorus to "Private Eyes" or "Turn to Stone" endlessly. "I Got My Mind Set On You" fits the bill as well.
3. Songs with no words at all: "Walk, Don't Run" and "Classical Gas" just aren't the same when they're whistled.
4. Songs no one else has ever heard of: "It's 'Cruel To Be Kind.'" "No, Nick Lowe." "Sometime in the early seventies, I think." "Yes, I'm aware you weren't born then; I wasn't either, but I still know it." "Seriously, what is weird about this? It was a hit song. It plays on the radio. It's pop culture. I shouldn't have to explain any of this."
5. Songs that you cannot sing out loud in public: Either the lyrics are incredibly offensive or completely gender inappropriate. This happened to me today. On the way to a department wide meeting, the insidious bastards at G101.3 decided to play "Hips Don't Lie." I know enough of it to sing through a bit, but something is lost when I sing Shakira's part, and I'm reasonably sure that directing any of my coworkers to keep on reading the signs of my body is a recipe for all kinds of trouble. This category also applies to Christmas songs when it isn't Christmas season.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Thursday, December 27, 2007
The Best of Jackson Browne
Here's what I knew about Jackson Browne about 6 months ago:
1. He sang "Stay" and "Running on Empty".
2. He collaborated with Warren Zevon semi-regularly.
Upon repeated listenings of Running On Empty, I've decided I really like it. While shopping for Christmas presents for my family tonight, I found The Best of Jackson Browne on sale for $6. For six bucks, why not? asks I. You can't miss, I reply. So, here's my running thoughts on The Best of Jackson Browne, while I kill time until my mechanic opens at 7. This might not actually be interesting to read, since no one else can hear the album unless you happen to own it. It will, however, take a long time, and that's the goal at the moment.
1. Doctor My Eyes: Hey, I know this song! So this is Jackson Browne too. I could probably recognize his songs more easily if his songs weren't the archetypal example of baritone singer/songwriter. You know, the theme of people going to doctors to solve their emotional issues is not a new one in rock and roll. Except Jackson Browne wrote this one, so it's like that, only done better than pretty much everyone else who ever did it. Favorite line: "People go just where they will. I never noticed them until I got this feeling that it's later than it seems."
2. These Days: Not much to say about this one. It's a nice, moody ballad, pretty much exactly how you'd expect a nice moody ballad to sound. This one I don't relate to as much, as when I'm moody and down about my life, I tend to be more extroverted to try to jump start me out of it.
Favorite line: "Now if I seem afraid to live the life I've made in song, it's just that I've been losing for so long."
3. Fountain of Sorrow: Man, Jackson Browne has not lived a happy life. He's like an anti-rock star. Or like Emily Dickinson, if Emily Dickinson had ever been within a thousand miles of Cool. Actually, perhaps in past lives, Jackson Browne dumped Emily Dickinson for being a whiny whiner, and their future selves couldn't stop writing poetry about it.
Favorite Line: And while the future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems easier sometimes to change the past.
4. Late for the Sky: I think everyone has sleptwalk through a relationship or two, just automatically saying easy things, and realizing there was nothing there except that both people wanted something to be there. Jackson Browne, however, seems to have done this with every woman he ever dated.
Favorite line: How long have I been dreaming I could make it right if I closed my eyes and tried with all my might to be the one you need?
5. The Pretender: You know, sad, reflective love ballads don't really move me too much. Yeah, yeah. Love ends. It's sad. Blah blah blah. But this... this... ok, now I'm depressed. Congratulations.
Favorite Line: Say a prayer for the pretender, who started out so young and strong, only to surrender.
6. Running on Empty: Ah, the Springsteen Gambit: Disguise your moody lyrics that might not make people feel good when they sing along with them by using an upbeat tempo and driving chords. I personally find this song to be completely awesome.
Favorite Line: In '69 I was 21 and I called the road my own. I don't know when that road turned into the road I'm on.
7. Call it a Loan: Apparently sometime in the late '70s, Jackson Browne discovered he could get more radio play if his songs had choruses. The regrettable side effect is that it cut into his lyric writing freedom. I can't really find any gripes about this song, but I can't find any particularly favorite lyrics either. It simply could be that I'm ODing on break-up songs too.
8. Somebody's Baby: I know this song too! I've never been particularly impressed by it when I've heard it on the radio. It's one in a million songs that do not prompt me to change the station, but don't prompt me to run out and buy an album or even worry about who sings it. Now, however, it makes much more sense in the context of Jackson Browne's body of work. Even the really attractive people that everyone wants to date are consigned to lives of loneliness becomes everyone assumes they're taken, to the point that they try their hardest to not notice them.
9. Tender is the Night: At some point in every rock career, you begin to say "I like the earlier stuff better." I think we've arrived here. Jackson Browne is straying from his tried-and-true "I'll just do what everyone else is doing, only much much better" plan, and trying to incorporate the pop sounds of the early 80s. It's not a good move. Not at all. The lyrics are stil pretty solid though.
Favorite Line: I can't walk back in after the way we fight when people outside are laughing, living lives we used to lead.
10. In the Shape of a Heart: Hey, uh, just re-read that last paragraph. Good lyrics, but I'm just not a fan of the instrumentation. I mean, I was ok with The Cars in the '80s, because they at least went all out with the electro-pop sound. This folksy synth mix doesn't work for me.
Favorite line: "[People] Speak in terms of belief and belonging, try to fit some name to their longing, People speak of love."
11. Lives in the Balance: Wait a minute, this isn't about breaking up with a girl and feeling really bad about it. In fact, this isn't about anybody breaking up with anyone at all. And it's not even a depressing acknowledgement that you'll never be as cool as you wanted to be. Are we sure this is Jackson Browne? Of course, the really depressing part about this anti-war, anti-crappy media anthem is that it could be written about pretty much any time in U.S. history.
12. Sky Blue and Black: Out of the 80s, thankfully, and Jackson can go back to his original style, only a little mellower. In case you were wondering, Jackson is still breaking up with people, and still feeling really bad about it. In fact, he wants to be friends and make her feel better. This, I think, is a bad idea almost 100% of the time.
13. The Barricades of Heaven: Also, Jackson is still coming to terms with the fact that he's not as cool as he always hoped he'd be.
14. The Rebel Jesus: This isn't really a true "Best of Jackson Browne", rather, it's a new song tacked on to the end. It deserves to be included; I like it better than the last five or so. It's a nice little anti-hymn about how not Christlike actual Christianity is, and how the real purpose is to make people feel good about themselves. Very ethereal sounding.
Favorite Line: In a life of hardship and of earthly toil, there's a need for anything that frees us.
15. The Next Voice You Hear: Hey, I know this one. I don't know how. I think it must be the radio, as it was released in 1997, which puts it way too late for me to hear it via one of my older sisters. Despite the moody and generally depressing tone of all of Jackson Browne's songs, this is the only one with what I would call a dark sound. Most of the others are simple mellow grooves.
Favorite Line: Throw down your truth and check your weapons.
Hmmm, I've still got four hours. Time to watch The Godfather Part II, I suppose.
1. He sang "Stay" and "Running on Empty".
2. He collaborated with Warren Zevon semi-regularly.
Upon repeated listenings of Running On Empty, I've decided I really like it. While shopping for Christmas presents for my family tonight, I found The Best of Jackson Browne on sale for $6. For six bucks, why not? asks I. You can't miss, I reply. So, here's my running thoughts on The Best of Jackson Browne, while I kill time until my mechanic opens at 7. This might not actually be interesting to read, since no one else can hear the album unless you happen to own it. It will, however, take a long time, and that's the goal at the moment.
1. Doctor My Eyes: Hey, I know this song! So this is Jackson Browne too. I could probably recognize his songs more easily if his songs weren't the archetypal example of baritone singer/songwriter. You know, the theme of people going to doctors to solve their emotional issues is not a new one in rock and roll. Except Jackson Browne wrote this one, so it's like that, only done better than pretty much everyone else who ever did it. Favorite line: "People go just where they will. I never noticed them until I got this feeling that it's later than it seems."
2. These Days: Not much to say about this one. It's a nice, moody ballad, pretty much exactly how you'd expect a nice moody ballad to sound. This one I don't relate to as much, as when I'm moody and down about my life, I tend to be more extroverted to try to jump start me out of it.
Favorite line: "Now if I seem afraid to live the life I've made in song, it's just that I've been losing for so long."
3. Fountain of Sorrow: Man, Jackson Browne has not lived a happy life. He's like an anti-rock star. Or like Emily Dickinson, if Emily Dickinson had ever been within a thousand miles of Cool. Actually, perhaps in past lives, Jackson Browne dumped Emily Dickinson for being a whiny whiner, and their future selves couldn't stop writing poetry about it.
Favorite Line: And while the future's there for anyone to change, still you know it seems easier sometimes to change the past.
4. Late for the Sky: I think everyone has sleptwalk through a relationship or two, just automatically saying easy things, and realizing there was nothing there except that both people wanted something to be there. Jackson Browne, however, seems to have done this with every woman he ever dated.
Favorite line: How long have I been dreaming I could make it right if I closed my eyes and tried with all my might to be the one you need?
5. The Pretender: You know, sad, reflective love ballads don't really move me too much. Yeah, yeah. Love ends. It's sad. Blah blah blah. But this... this... ok, now I'm depressed. Congratulations.
Favorite Line: Say a prayer for the pretender, who started out so young and strong, only to surrender.
6. Running on Empty: Ah, the Springsteen Gambit: Disguise your moody lyrics that might not make people feel good when they sing along with them by using an upbeat tempo and driving chords. I personally find this song to be completely awesome.
Favorite Line: In '69 I was 21 and I called the road my own. I don't know when that road turned into the road I'm on.
7. Call it a Loan: Apparently sometime in the late '70s, Jackson Browne discovered he could get more radio play if his songs had choruses. The regrettable side effect is that it cut into his lyric writing freedom. I can't really find any gripes about this song, but I can't find any particularly favorite lyrics either. It simply could be that I'm ODing on break-up songs too.
8. Somebody's Baby: I know this song too! I've never been particularly impressed by it when I've heard it on the radio. It's one in a million songs that do not prompt me to change the station, but don't prompt me to run out and buy an album or even worry about who sings it. Now, however, it makes much more sense in the context of Jackson Browne's body of work. Even the really attractive people that everyone wants to date are consigned to lives of loneliness becomes everyone assumes they're taken, to the point that they try their hardest to not notice them.
9. Tender is the Night: At some point in every rock career, you begin to say "I like the earlier stuff better." I think we've arrived here. Jackson Browne is straying from his tried-and-true "I'll just do what everyone else is doing, only much much better" plan, and trying to incorporate the pop sounds of the early 80s. It's not a good move. Not at all. The lyrics are stil pretty solid though.
Favorite Line: I can't walk back in after the way we fight when people outside are laughing, living lives we used to lead.
10. In the Shape of a Heart: Hey, uh, just re-read that last paragraph. Good lyrics, but I'm just not a fan of the instrumentation. I mean, I was ok with The Cars in the '80s, because they at least went all out with the electro-pop sound. This folksy synth mix doesn't work for me.
Favorite line: "[People] Speak in terms of belief and belonging, try to fit some name to their longing, People speak of love."
11. Lives in the Balance: Wait a minute, this isn't about breaking up with a girl and feeling really bad about it. In fact, this isn't about anybody breaking up with anyone at all. And it's not even a depressing acknowledgement that you'll never be as cool as you wanted to be. Are we sure this is Jackson Browne? Of course, the really depressing part about this anti-war, anti-crappy media anthem is that it could be written about pretty much any time in U.S. history.
12. Sky Blue and Black: Out of the 80s, thankfully, and Jackson can go back to his original style, only a little mellower. In case you were wondering, Jackson is still breaking up with people, and still feeling really bad about it. In fact, he wants to be friends and make her feel better. This, I think, is a bad idea almost 100% of the time.
13. The Barricades of Heaven: Also, Jackson is still coming to terms with the fact that he's not as cool as he always hoped he'd be.
14. The Rebel Jesus: This isn't really a true "Best of Jackson Browne", rather, it's a new song tacked on to the end. It deserves to be included; I like it better than the last five or so. It's a nice little anti-hymn about how not Christlike actual Christianity is, and how the real purpose is to make people feel good about themselves. Very ethereal sounding.
Favorite Line: In a life of hardship and of earthly toil, there's a need for anything that frees us.
15. The Next Voice You Hear: Hey, I know this one. I don't know how. I think it must be the radio, as it was released in 1997, which puts it way too late for me to hear it via one of my older sisters. Despite the moody and generally depressing tone of all of Jackson Browne's songs, this is the only one with what I would call a dark sound. Most of the others are simple mellow grooves.
Favorite Line: Throw down your truth and check your weapons.
Hmmm, I've still got four hours. Time to watch The Godfather Part II, I suppose.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Heard on the Radio
Today I was positively bored out of my mind. After being awake for 2 hours, I realized that I had already done everything I wanted to do, and was facing the prospect of at least 10 more hours of consciousness and little else. So I decided to go spend some money, since I have some extra cash to do so for the first time in months.
It was awesome, and I'm in one excellent mood. I felt the urge to get Waffle House hasbrowns at one point, and since there are no Waffle Houses in this area for reasons beyond my comprehension, I had to cross the Ohio line in search of one. Due to my ridiculously high spirits on this gratuitous excursion of capitalism, my radio comments were a little more manic than usual.
"Homeward Bound," Simon and Garfunkel: You know what's more than a little creepy? What Paul Simon says his "loved one" does while he's out touring: Sitting around silently waiting for Paul Simon to return while listening to Paul Simon's music. I suppose that's possible. I think, given Paul Simon's track record on marriages, that it was far more likely that she was having affairs.
Also, current and aspiring rock stars: you may think someday that it's a good idea to write a song about how hard it is to be a rock star. Unless you have Paul Simon's talent at writing lyrics, I don't recommend it, because you'll just sound whiny.
"99 Luftballons," Nena: I really like this song, but I'd never heard the German version on the radio before today. I had quite the wonderful time pretending like I could sing along in German and waiting for a few words I recognize: krieg, minister, kriegminister, Captain Kirk. I'm not sure I understand why the radio went for the German version other than, "Hey, we're Mix 107.7 and nothing we do makes any sense, ever." I suppose there's probably a rabid Nena fanbase that denounces the English version as derivative drivel that doesn't compare to the original German, or something. At any rate, I think we can all agree that there's not nearly enough nuclear holocaust on the radio these days.
"Bohemian Rhapsody," Queen: I think I need to reevaluate how I decide if a band is good or not. Has this song ever been covered? Because I cannot imagine anyone ever doing it and it not being a complete train wreck. But somehow it's awesome when Queen sings it, because they're that good. But, just for fun, try to imagine what Bohemian Rhapsody would sound like if Creed tried to cover it. Just try.
"Summer Nights," the cast of Grease: Apparently the radio station was giving away a free copy of High School Musical 2 to the third caller after they played Summer Nights. This, I'm afraid, is not nearly enough justification to play the Grease Soundtrack on the radio. If Grease is coming on the radio, the prize in the accompanying contest should be at least a new car. And if you simply must play something from Grease in the middle of December, wouldn't there be something a little more appropriate than "Summer Nights"? Although I always chuckle at "We stayed out until ten o'clock!" Crazy kids.
More disturbing than the simple fact that the radio was playing this, however, was the statement that "Summer Nights" is the most popular karaoke song of all time. The thing is, it takes two people to sing it. I'm now having mental images of annoying, overintoxicated couples slurring through this song, messing up all the harmonies in the duets, missing all of the key changes, and forgetting most of the words except for "Tell me more, tell me more," much to the dismay and horror of everyone else in the bar. The world is a frightening place sometimes. God. Whoever won that copy of High School Musical 2 better enjoy it for putting me through all this.
"Storybook Love," Willy Deville: Hearing this on the radio made me think, "Hey, what year was The Princess Bride released? Because, assuming it was not 1988, whatever movie won that year probably did not deserve to win Best Picture." It turns out it was 1987. Since I haven't seen The Last Emperor yet, I'll try to withhold judgment. As it is, it merely joins The English Patient and Around the World in 80 Days on the list of movies I'm already pretty sure didn't need to win Best Picture. Meanwhile, "Storybook Love" lost out to "I've Had the Time of My Life" for Best Original Song, ensuring that 1988 joins pretty much every year the award has existed that the Academy screwed it up.
It was awesome, and I'm in one excellent mood. I felt the urge to get Waffle House hasbrowns at one point, and since there are no Waffle Houses in this area for reasons beyond my comprehension, I had to cross the Ohio line in search of one. Due to my ridiculously high spirits on this gratuitous excursion of capitalism, my radio comments were a little more manic than usual.
"Homeward Bound," Simon and Garfunkel: You know what's more than a little creepy? What Paul Simon says his "loved one" does while he's out touring: Sitting around silently waiting for Paul Simon to return while listening to Paul Simon's music. I suppose that's possible. I think, given Paul Simon's track record on marriages, that it was far more likely that she was having affairs.
Also, current and aspiring rock stars: you may think someday that it's a good idea to write a song about how hard it is to be a rock star. Unless you have Paul Simon's talent at writing lyrics, I don't recommend it, because you'll just sound whiny.
"99 Luftballons," Nena: I really like this song, but I'd never heard the German version on the radio before today. I had quite the wonderful time pretending like I could sing along in German and waiting for a few words I recognize: krieg, minister, kriegminister, Captain Kirk. I'm not sure I understand why the radio went for the German version other than, "Hey, we're Mix 107.7 and nothing we do makes any sense, ever." I suppose there's probably a rabid Nena fanbase that denounces the English version as derivative drivel that doesn't compare to the original German, or something. At any rate, I think we can all agree that there's not nearly enough nuclear holocaust on the radio these days.
"Bohemian Rhapsody," Queen: I think I need to reevaluate how I decide if a band is good or not. Has this song ever been covered? Because I cannot imagine anyone ever doing it and it not being a complete train wreck. But somehow it's awesome when Queen sings it, because they're that good. But, just for fun, try to imagine what Bohemian Rhapsody would sound like if Creed tried to cover it. Just try.
"Summer Nights," the cast of Grease: Apparently the radio station was giving away a free copy of High School Musical 2 to the third caller after they played Summer Nights. This, I'm afraid, is not nearly enough justification to play the Grease Soundtrack on the radio. If Grease is coming on the radio, the prize in the accompanying contest should be at least a new car. And if you simply must play something from Grease in the middle of December, wouldn't there be something a little more appropriate than "Summer Nights"? Although I always chuckle at "We stayed out until ten o'clock!" Crazy kids.
More disturbing than the simple fact that the radio was playing this, however, was the statement that "Summer Nights" is the most popular karaoke song of all time. The thing is, it takes two people to sing it. I'm now having mental images of annoying, overintoxicated couples slurring through this song, messing up all the harmonies in the duets, missing all of the key changes, and forgetting most of the words except for "Tell me more, tell me more," much to the dismay and horror of everyone else in the bar. The world is a frightening place sometimes. God. Whoever won that copy of High School Musical 2 better enjoy it for putting me through all this.
"Storybook Love," Willy Deville: Hearing this on the radio made me think, "Hey, what year was The Princess Bride released? Because, assuming it was not 1988, whatever movie won that year probably did not deserve to win Best Picture." It turns out it was 1987. Since I haven't seen The Last Emperor yet, I'll try to withhold judgment. As it is, it merely joins The English Patient and Around the World in 80 Days on the list of movies I'm already pretty sure didn't need to win Best Picture. Meanwhile, "Storybook Love" lost out to "I've Had the Time of My Life" for Best Original Song, ensuring that 1988 joins pretty much every year the award has existed that the Academy screwed it up.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Heard on My Mom's Van's Radio
"My Hands," Jewel: I heard this on the local Christmas station. They added a backup choir and some chimes, and all of a sudden, "My Hands" is a Christmas song, despite having no holiday themed content whatsoever. That move is so brilliant that I'm surprised most soft adult contemporary pop stars don't try similar hijinx.
"Here Comes Santa Claus": You know what's awesome about this song? Very little, BUT, the last line "Let's give thanks to the Lord above 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight!" is certainly awesome. If there's one thing I do not do enough of, it's thanking a being who may or may not exist that a fictional character who everyone above the age of 12 knows does not exist is coming tonight, even though he's not because he doesn't exist. That sounds like a productive use of my time, right there.
"Hey There Delilah," Plain White T's: I like this song, and probably would not make fun of it if I were in a better mood, but that line about how the singer will be making history, well, I'm just not seeing the world being set on fire by three chord acoustical guitar and a five note singing range.
"Here Comes Santa Claus": You know what's awesome about this song? Very little, BUT, the last line "Let's give thanks to the Lord above 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight!" is certainly awesome. If there's one thing I do not do enough of, it's thanking a being who may or may not exist that a fictional character who everyone above the age of 12 knows does not exist is coming tonight, even though he's not because he doesn't exist. That sounds like a productive use of my time, right there.
"Hey There Delilah," Plain White T's: I like this song, and probably would not make fun of it if I were in a better mood, but that line about how the singer will be making history, well, I'm just not seeing the world being set on fire by three chord acoustical guitar and a five note singing range.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Heard On the Radio, Christmas Edition
"Santa Claus is Coming To Town," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band: I like Bruce Springsteen well enough, but, I don't think there's hope for this song, no matter who sings it. It's designed for four year olds to sing, and I think it should be left to its target audience.
"All I Want For Christmas Is You," Mariah Carey: This has to be the most played Christmas song. I heard it twice yesterday. And as much as I would like to make fun of Mariah Carey, I can't really find much about this song I don't like. I like the full-sounding instrumentation with the ambient bells, I like the use of the back-up singers, I like Mariah eschewing the crazy diva soprano lines in favor of a simple, catchy melody line, and I like the simple, straight-forward lyrics. It's not my favorite Christmas song, but it's upbeat and innocuous, so it can stay in the Christmas canon, as far as I'm concerned.
The Trans-Siberian Orchestra: I'm not sure if the TSO names their songs. The radio never tells me. I have yet to hear a song that does not make me think, "And here's another track from that beloved holiday favorite, Jim Steinman Saves Christmas." Actually, that sounds like a good idea for a Christmas special. Jeff Lynne can play his eccentric, goofy sidekick. Together, they can use the power of bombastic, over-synthesized rock to raise enough money to stop the orphanage from closing. Or rouse Santa from his post-Thanksgiving food-induced slumber in time to deliver the presents to the children of the world. Or melt the heart of closed-minded cynic who has forgotten what Christmas is all about. Really, the script writes itself from this point. Pity the WGA is on strike, otherwise I'm sure they'd jump on this idea.
"Do They Know It's Christmas?" Band Aid: Meanwhile, a group of baritone pop stars banding together to end world hunger with music is a siren song I can't resist. I heard that on my way to Meijer on my break, and had to buy one of their $10 sacks of food to be donated to the food pantry that they have every Christmas, even though I don't have the money to feed myself right now, let alone the world. Then I came back to work and was still singing it, and got in a fight with my coworker Kelli. It went something like this:
Andy: Feed...the...WORLD...
Kelli: God no. No.
Andy: What?
Kelli: I hate that song. Worst Christmas song ever.
Andy: what?? What???
Kelli: That song---
Andy: "Christmas Shoes" is the worst Christmas song ever.
Client: Let them know it's Christmastime!
Andy: Yes. See? That song is awesome.
Kelli: No. It's lame and cheesy.
Andy: No, it's about saving lives.
Kelli: It's still stupid.
Andy: But there won't be snow this Christmastime in Africa.
Kelli: I don't care.
Andy: Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you.
Client: Feed... the... WORLD!
Kelli: Dear God. Are you happy now Andy?
Andy: Let them know it's Christmastime!
Which brings us to today's YouTube.
"All I Want For Christmas Is You," Mariah Carey: This has to be the most played Christmas song. I heard it twice yesterday. And as much as I would like to make fun of Mariah Carey, I can't really find much about this song I don't like. I like the full-sounding instrumentation with the ambient bells, I like the use of the back-up singers, I like Mariah eschewing the crazy diva soprano lines in favor of a simple, catchy melody line, and I like the simple, straight-forward lyrics. It's not my favorite Christmas song, but it's upbeat and innocuous, so it can stay in the Christmas canon, as far as I'm concerned.
The Trans-Siberian Orchestra: I'm not sure if the TSO names their songs. The radio never tells me. I have yet to hear a song that does not make me think, "And here's another track from that beloved holiday favorite, Jim Steinman Saves Christmas." Actually, that sounds like a good idea for a Christmas special. Jeff Lynne can play his eccentric, goofy sidekick. Together, they can use the power of bombastic, over-synthesized rock to raise enough money to stop the orphanage from closing. Or rouse Santa from his post-Thanksgiving food-induced slumber in time to deliver the presents to the children of the world. Or melt the heart of closed-minded cynic who has forgotten what Christmas is all about. Really, the script writes itself from this point. Pity the WGA is on strike, otherwise I'm sure they'd jump on this idea.
"Do They Know It's Christmas?" Band Aid: Meanwhile, a group of baritone pop stars banding together to end world hunger with music is a siren song I can't resist. I heard that on my way to Meijer on my break, and had to buy one of their $10 sacks of food to be donated to the food pantry that they have every Christmas, even though I don't have the money to feed myself right now, let alone the world. Then I came back to work and was still singing it, and got in a fight with my coworker Kelli. It went something like this:
Andy: Feed...the...WORLD...
Kelli: God no. No.
Andy: What?
Kelli: I hate that song. Worst Christmas song ever.
Andy: what?? What???
Kelli: That song---
Andy: "Christmas Shoes" is the worst Christmas song ever.
Client: Let them know it's Christmastime!
Andy: Yes. See? That song is awesome.
Kelli: No. It's lame and cheesy.
Andy: No, it's about saving lives.
Kelli: It's still stupid.
Andy: But there won't be snow this Christmastime in Africa.
Kelli: I don't care.
Andy: Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you.
Client: Feed... the... WORLD!
Kelli: Dear God. Are you happy now Andy?
Andy: Let them know it's Christmastime!
Which brings us to today's YouTube.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Heard On The Radio Today
"Don't Stop Believing," Journey: I swear this song haunts me. Anytime I'm in a bad mood, suddenly Journey appears on my radio, as if to add insult to injury. I know this song was meant to be uplifting or something, but Lord does it suck. Plus, I end up singing random snippets of it for a couple hours. I am 98% sure this song will somehow be the last thing I hear in my life.
"Come and Get It," Badfinger: I have no idea why this is considered an acceptable rock song. Yes, it's catchy. Yes, it's easy to sing along to. But it lacks elements like verses, or a bridge, or cool solos, or interesting guitar riffs, or cool instrumentation, or really anything outside of "If you want it, here it is, come and get it." Did Paul McCartney just write this on a napkin, throw it in his suit pocket, forget about it for a couple years, then just give it to Badfinger so they'd have something to sing? I cannot think of a single other song that has no verses whatsoever.
"Angie," The Rolling Stones: Have I mentioned this song in this occasional feature before? Seems like I have. I love the poignant interplay between the violin and the piano in this one enough to make me consider starting a rock band with just a piano and a violin. But the thing I really love is Mick Jagger's singing in it, because it's so loose and not concerned with being exactly on pitch that I can sing along with it even though it's probably way out of my normal range and still sound good.
"The House of the Rising Sun," The Animals: The Animals, on the other hand, believe in singing at the very edge of my normal range perfectly on pitch, which usually means I sound terrible for a couple beats when I sing along with it. This makes me sad, because I really like this song and I want to sing along with it but hate sounding terrible. The discomfort this situation causes always makes me want to change the station, but I stay for the cool organ solo. I'm a sucker for cool organ solos.
"Sultans of Swing," Dire Straits: Dire Straits, meanwhile, somehow made a music career out of nonchalantly breathing four notes for three and a half minutes backed by catchy guitar riffs. I'm pretty sure tone deaf toddlers could handle Dire Straits' vocals with minimal difficulty. I like the groovin' guitar solo in the middle of this one. I suppose the lesson here is that decent lyrics, catchy guitar riffs, and groovin' solos can mask ridiculously simple vocals, because I never noticed them until I sang along with it after struggling mightily with The Animals.
"Come and Get It," Badfinger: I have no idea why this is considered an acceptable rock song. Yes, it's catchy. Yes, it's easy to sing along to. But it lacks elements like verses, or a bridge, or cool solos, or interesting guitar riffs, or cool instrumentation, or really anything outside of "If you want it, here it is, come and get it." Did Paul McCartney just write this on a napkin, throw it in his suit pocket, forget about it for a couple years, then just give it to Badfinger so they'd have something to sing? I cannot think of a single other song that has no verses whatsoever.
"Angie," The Rolling Stones: Have I mentioned this song in this occasional feature before? Seems like I have. I love the poignant interplay between the violin and the piano in this one enough to make me consider starting a rock band with just a piano and a violin. But the thing I really love is Mick Jagger's singing in it, because it's so loose and not concerned with being exactly on pitch that I can sing along with it even though it's probably way out of my normal range and still sound good.
"The House of the Rising Sun," The Animals: The Animals, on the other hand, believe in singing at the very edge of my normal range perfectly on pitch, which usually means I sound terrible for a couple beats when I sing along with it. This makes me sad, because I really like this song and I want to sing along with it but hate sounding terrible. The discomfort this situation causes always makes me want to change the station, but I stay for the cool organ solo. I'm a sucker for cool organ solos.
"Sultans of Swing," Dire Straits: Dire Straits, meanwhile, somehow made a music career out of nonchalantly breathing four notes for three and a half minutes backed by catchy guitar riffs. I'm pretty sure tone deaf toddlers could handle Dire Straits' vocals with minimal difficulty. I like the groovin' guitar solo in the middle of this one. I suppose the lesson here is that decent lyrics, catchy guitar riffs, and groovin' solos can mask ridiculously simple vocals, because I never noticed them until I sang along with it after struggling mightily with The Animals.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
How Did I Not Know About This?
So considering video games and rock n roll music are two of my all-time favorite things, with ironic mocking sarcarsm coming in at a close third, how did I not know that Journey had its own terrible arcade game in the early '80s? Apparently, it was conceived to be released at the same time that their American tour was happening in 1983. You control the five members of the band as they fly through the galaxy in a spaceship, traveling to different planets to recover their lost instruments. Then you play a concert while an actual tape deck in the machine plays "Separate Ways". Working machines are very hard to find.
Here's an action-packed clip, because I don't think I would've believed this without proof.
You'll notice that once Steve Perry recovers his microphone, it turns into a high powered auto-cannon.
Here's an action-packed clip, because I don't think I would've believed this without proof.
You'll notice that once Steve Perry recovers his microphone, it turns into a high powered auto-cannon.
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Question On Everyone's Mind
"Andy, if you met a space alien visiting Earth and he wanted to know what Rock 'n' Roll was, who would you instruct him to listen to?"
Glad you all asked. You certainly would not send him toward ELO, what with the uncommon emphasis on the strings. You wouldn't tell him to listen to The Beatles, either. At the beginning, they have too much of a stripped down pop sound, and towards the end, they venture too far into arcane psychedelia to be considered representative. Warren Zevon is too weird. Elton John is too piano-centric and soft. Journey is too ridiculous.
Instead I'd point him in the direction of Jackson Brown. I'm not familiar with the entire Jackson Brown canon; in fact, my knowledge is pretty much limited to his cover of "Stay", "Runnin' on Empty", and "The Pretender," but I feel pretty comfortable recommending him. See, when you listen to Jackson Brown, the piano does exactly what you'd expect in a rock and roll song. The guitar follows suit. The vocal line doesn't try anything too daring and relies on the singer's warm low baritone to fill out the sound. Some simple but entertaining solos might pop up here and there. The tempo stays at a fair, mid-tempo clip. The lyrics are thoughtful without being shocking or relying too heavily on dumb cliches. The female back-up singers come in at appropriate times and sing the expected words.
In short, the song never deviates from the formula. It sounds exactly as you'd expect a rock and roll song to sound. Not that this is a bad thing; just an example of beauty found within the form.
Anyone have a different suggestion?
Glad you all asked. You certainly would not send him toward ELO, what with the uncommon emphasis on the strings. You wouldn't tell him to listen to The Beatles, either. At the beginning, they have too much of a stripped down pop sound, and towards the end, they venture too far into arcane psychedelia to be considered representative. Warren Zevon is too weird. Elton John is too piano-centric and soft. Journey is too ridiculous.
Instead I'd point him in the direction of Jackson Brown. I'm not familiar with the entire Jackson Brown canon; in fact, my knowledge is pretty much limited to his cover of "Stay", "Runnin' on Empty", and "The Pretender," but I feel pretty comfortable recommending him. See, when you listen to Jackson Brown, the piano does exactly what you'd expect in a rock and roll song. The guitar follows suit. The vocal line doesn't try anything too daring and relies on the singer's warm low baritone to fill out the sound. Some simple but entertaining solos might pop up here and there. The tempo stays at a fair, mid-tempo clip. The lyrics are thoughtful without being shocking or relying too heavily on dumb cliches. The female back-up singers come in at appropriate times and sing the expected words.
In short, the song never deviates from the formula. It sounds exactly as you'd expect a rock and roll song to sound. Not that this is a bad thing; just an example of beauty found within the form.
Anyone have a different suggestion?
Friday, July 20, 2007
One Inappropriate Post
Mark Trail: If you don't pay any attention to the dialogue this week, it appears the plot has taken a turn toward phone sex.
Harry Potter: I repurchased Book 6, since my lame younger brother never returned my copy. Hey Aaron, I still want it back. I'll let you have this paperback copy as a birthday present. Ya tool.
Also, I think the greatest testament to the awesomeness of JK Rowlings is that 5 years ago, when I got into Harry Potter, I would find myself defending my enjoyment of the books to some of my non-Potter friends in college. Now, people who don't read them have to defend their disinterest, as if you'd have to be a freak to not enjoy Harry Potter.
Radio: "Dance With Me" came on the radio again today, and solely because Lindzy said she liked it, I listened to it again, and am now prepared to revise my opinion on it. Previously, I simply said, "This song sucks." Now, I mostly stand by that one. However, I do like the bass line pretty well, and the instrumental arrangement gets pretty cool in the middle, although you wouldn't tell from the boring beginning. However, I maintain that it's still a song that does not make me remotely feel like dancing. This is just to show that I value the opinions of my commenters highly enough to challenge my beliefs.
And now I should stop typing, lest I add something inappropriate to this otherwise happy ending.
Harry Potter: I repurchased Book 6, since my lame younger brother never returned my copy. Hey Aaron, I still want it back. I'll let you have this paperback copy as a birthday present. Ya tool.
Also, I think the greatest testament to the awesomeness of JK Rowlings is that 5 years ago, when I got into Harry Potter, I would find myself defending my enjoyment of the books to some of my non-Potter friends in college. Now, people who don't read them have to defend their disinterest, as if you'd have to be a freak to not enjoy Harry Potter.
Radio: "Dance With Me" came on the radio again today, and solely because Lindzy said she liked it, I listened to it again, and am now prepared to revise my opinion on it. Previously, I simply said, "This song sucks." Now, I mostly stand by that one. However, I do like the bass line pretty well, and the instrumental arrangement gets pretty cool in the middle, although you wouldn't tell from the boring beginning. However, I maintain that it's still a song that does not make me remotely feel like dancing. This is just to show that I value the opinions of my commenters highly enough to challenge my beliefs.
And now I should stop typing, lest I add something inappropriate to this otherwise happy ending.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Because I don't feel like typing, writing, or thinking
I feel like ranking the Traveling Wilburys.
1. Tom Petty
2. Roy Orbison
3. Jeff Lynne
4. Bob Dylan
5. George Harrison
That's how I'd rank them. Any disagreements?
1. Tom Petty
2. Roy Orbison
3. Jeff Lynne
4. Bob Dylan
5. George Harrison
That's how I'd rank them. Any disagreements?
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Resolved: That The Mamas and the Papas sold their souls to the devil in exchange for happiness.
***Mandatory Music Post Disclaimer: I have admittedly questionable tastes in music. If you find yourself disagreeing with my musical pronouncements, know that your position is probably much more eminently defensible than my own.***
I purchased a very affordable copy of California Dreamin' a couple weeks ago, and since I don't feel like blogging about anything else and don't really feel like cleaning my apartment, I'm going to review it, track by track. After the next introductory paragraph. This paragraph is the intriguing backstory to the blog post that's usually pushed to the commentary tracks on the special edition DVD.
Prior to this purchase, I could name three songs by The Mamas and the Papas: "California Dreamin'," "Monday, Monday," and "I Saw Her Again Last Night." I love all three of these songs, so I've pretty much assumed that I'm a fan of The Mamas and the Papas. It turns out I'm both much more and much less a fan of the band than I thought. Contrary to what I believed, the delicately handled angsty lyric material and NOT the band's unique sound was the key to their success. When the lyrics are moody or sad, the band is on and delivers a catchy hit. When the lyrics are happy and carefree, the band suddenly becomes unlistenable. Observe:
1. "California Dreamin'" -- Song's premise: "I'm completely miserable in my current life, and feel I would benefit greatly by relocating to a place I've idealized in my mind, to the point that I would go without even telling my significant other." Song becomes radio staple, to the point that I doubt there's a single person reading this post thinking "I should probably listen to 'California Dreamin'' sometime to hear what he's talking about."
2. "Spanish Harlem" -- Song's premise: "I really love a girl who lives in Spanish Harlem." Song's sound: Completely 4-square rhythm, completely not fitting with the exotic sound of "Spanish Harlem." Harmonies are lame, and mostly consigned to "la's". No conviction to be found in vocalist.
3. "Glad To Be Unhappy" -- Song's premise: "An abusive relationship is better than no relationship at all." A complete oddity. Like the title, this song can't decide if it's a happy song or not. As such, the band decides to vary the level of suck frequently and without warning throughout the course of the song.
4. "Go Where You Wanna Go" -- Song's premise: "I don't want to share you, and I'm giving up on waiting for you to settle down." Really clever harmony parts. For instance, the back-up singers harmonize the words to "Go where you wanna go" but then switch to doots for "Do what you wanna do," except you don't realize it until halfway through the line. Then towards the end, they get more contrapuntal. One of the better songs on the album.
5. "Monday, Monday" -- Song's premise: Ok, actually, I'm at a loss as to exactly what this song is about. I know somebody may be getting dumped. On a Monday. Or maybe the girl's name is Monday. I don't know. Either way, it's not happy, and it's possibly an unhappy double-entendre, something I'm not really sure has ever existed. A groundbreaking song all around, I guess.
6. "My Girl" -- Hey, ever wonder what The Temptations would've sounded like if they were white and with no groove or soul whatsoever? Wonder no longer. I'd never heard of this cover before buying the album, but unlike the poor Hot House Flowers, I truly understand why this one has been buried in pop music history.
7. "No Salt On Her Tail" -- Song's premise: "The girl I love doesn't love me, so I'm going to get over it." This song sounds pretty cool, but the lyrics are terrible and pompous. Dude, you're not noble because you're going to allow her to "fly away," because she's allowed to do that with or without your permission. The alternative choice here is stalking and rape. Please get over yourself. That said, it's still moody, so still a decent sounding tune.
8. "Sing For Your Supper" -- Song's premise: "Hello my lovely avian friends. I would love to give you seed if you spread your cheery song outside my window." AHHH! Make it stop! I confess! It was me! I did it! I acted on my own too! Put me out of my misery! No more, please!
9. "Twelve Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)" -- Song's premise: I don't really know what this one is about either. I think it's about a woman coming to terms with the fact that she's a lesbian and the uneasy yet exciting effect such an admission has on the self-image, but again, I'm not entirely sure. The song's sound fits the theme though. It sounds very much like you're being led somewhere. This is possibly my favorite song on the album, although it could be because it's new while I've heard "California Dreamin'" and "Monday, Monday" a million times or so.
10. "Words of Love" -- Premise: "It takes actions, not words, to show love." This song is also cringe-worthy. Boring rhythms and a weird, disjunct melodic line that features a singer telling her man to show her more love in a very unintended irony. Goofy accompaniment. Not particularly catchy.
So, as you can see from my review, the happier The Mamas and the Papas were, the more empty, boring, and rhythmless their songs became. Like Vincent Van Gogh, future uninformed blowhards will use them as a case study for why major depression, especially in those artistic types, should go untreated so all of society can be vicariously depressed through them without any of the nasty effects of real depression. Because that's fair and all.
I purchased a very affordable copy of California Dreamin' a couple weeks ago, and since I don't feel like blogging about anything else and don't really feel like cleaning my apartment, I'm going to review it, track by track. After the next introductory paragraph. This paragraph is the intriguing backstory to the blog post that's usually pushed to the commentary tracks on the special edition DVD.
Prior to this purchase, I could name three songs by The Mamas and the Papas: "California Dreamin'," "Monday, Monday," and "I Saw Her Again Last Night." I love all three of these songs, so I've pretty much assumed that I'm a fan of The Mamas and the Papas. It turns out I'm both much more and much less a fan of the band than I thought. Contrary to what I believed, the delicately handled angsty lyric material and NOT the band's unique sound was the key to their success. When the lyrics are moody or sad, the band is on and delivers a catchy hit. When the lyrics are happy and carefree, the band suddenly becomes unlistenable. Observe:
1. "California Dreamin'" -- Song's premise: "I'm completely miserable in my current life, and feel I would benefit greatly by relocating to a place I've idealized in my mind, to the point that I would go without even telling my significant other." Song becomes radio staple, to the point that I doubt there's a single person reading this post thinking "I should probably listen to 'California Dreamin'' sometime to hear what he's talking about."
2. "Spanish Harlem" -- Song's premise: "I really love a girl who lives in Spanish Harlem." Song's sound: Completely 4-square rhythm, completely not fitting with the exotic sound of "Spanish Harlem." Harmonies are lame, and mostly consigned to "la's". No conviction to be found in vocalist.
3. "Glad To Be Unhappy" -- Song's premise: "An abusive relationship is better than no relationship at all." A complete oddity. Like the title, this song can't decide if it's a happy song or not. As such, the band decides to vary the level of suck frequently and without warning throughout the course of the song.
4. "Go Where You Wanna Go" -- Song's premise: "I don't want to share you, and I'm giving up on waiting for you to settle down." Really clever harmony parts. For instance, the back-up singers harmonize the words to "Go where you wanna go" but then switch to doots for "Do what you wanna do," except you don't realize it until halfway through the line. Then towards the end, they get more contrapuntal. One of the better songs on the album.
5. "Monday, Monday" -- Song's premise: Ok, actually, I'm at a loss as to exactly what this song is about. I know somebody may be getting dumped. On a Monday. Or maybe the girl's name is Monday. I don't know. Either way, it's not happy, and it's possibly an unhappy double-entendre, something I'm not really sure has ever existed. A groundbreaking song all around, I guess.
6. "My Girl" -- Hey, ever wonder what The Temptations would've sounded like if they were white and with no groove or soul whatsoever? Wonder no longer. I'd never heard of this cover before buying the album, but unlike the poor Hot House Flowers, I truly understand why this one has been buried in pop music history.
7. "No Salt On Her Tail" -- Song's premise: "The girl I love doesn't love me, so I'm going to get over it." This song sounds pretty cool, but the lyrics are terrible and pompous. Dude, you're not noble because you're going to allow her to "fly away," because she's allowed to do that with or without your permission. The alternative choice here is stalking and rape. Please get over yourself. That said, it's still moody, so still a decent sounding tune.
8. "Sing For Your Supper" -- Song's premise: "Hello my lovely avian friends. I would love to give you seed if you spread your cheery song outside my window." AHHH! Make it stop! I confess! It was me! I did it! I acted on my own too! Put me out of my misery! No more, please!
9. "Twelve Thirty (Young Girls Are Coming to the Canyon)" -- Song's premise: I don't really know what this one is about either. I think it's about a woman coming to terms with the fact that she's a lesbian and the uneasy yet exciting effect such an admission has on the self-image, but again, I'm not entirely sure. The song's sound fits the theme though. It sounds very much like you're being led somewhere. This is possibly my favorite song on the album, although it could be because it's new while I've heard "California Dreamin'" and "Monday, Monday" a million times or so.
10. "Words of Love" -- Premise: "It takes actions, not words, to show love." This song is also cringe-worthy. Boring rhythms and a weird, disjunct melodic line that features a singer telling her man to show her more love in a very unintended irony. Goofy accompaniment. Not particularly catchy.
So, as you can see from my review, the happier The Mamas and the Papas were, the more empty, boring, and rhythmless their songs became. Like Vincent Van Gogh, future uninformed blowhards will use them as a case study for why major depression, especially in those artistic types, should go untreated so all of society can be vicariously depressed through them without any of the nasty effects of real depression. Because that's fair and all.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Do Not Hear On the Radio
In 2000, during my senior choir trip to Gatlinburg, I found a CD entitled "Rebound Records Classic Rock 80s" in a strange mall music store. It consisted of some pretty cheesy but catchy songs that I knew, like "Mr. Roboto", "Owner of a Lonely Heart", and "Love Shack", as well as a fair collection of songs I'd never heard. I purchased it, not because it had all these songs so much as it was in the clearance bin for the price of $1. After listening to it in its entirety, I pegged one song as my clear favorite from the album.
The song is called "Don't Go" and it was performed by a band called Hot House Flowers. It had a catchy, piano-driven accompaniment, which I thought was cool, and the lyrics go by relatively fast and are sort of meandering, as if the singer is deliberately trying to not think of the fact that he's being dumped. It's only 3 minutes long and snappy enough that if one were so inclined, one could dance around like a moron in the solitude of their apartment. Anyways, it was generally well put together enough that I forgave the unspeakably lame saxophone cameos, and generally have thought to myself, "Yeah, I can see people really liking this song. It should make some money."
In my 25.5 years on this planet, I have never heard any other mention of that song or band. No radio play, no commercials, no VH-1 "I Love the 80s" reference, nothing. Likewise, I've never said to anyone, "Hey, have you ever heard of the Hot House Flowers? They sing a pretty cool song called 'Don't Go.' I recommend you check them out."
I mention this because I'm trying to reorganize my unorganized CDs, and have noted with some horror that the ridiculous $1 clearanced compilation CD where I discovered this one is missing, and for all I know, my cd could very well be the only known copy of the song in existence. Amazon professes no knowledge that my cd ever existed.
Luckily, I did a YouTube search for it. I got 5 results. One was a "Gilmore Girls" clip. One was an anime clip. Two were unrelated Justin Timberlake videos (making his second cameo appearance on this blog, thanks to Susie in comments). And the other appears to be it, although it also appears and sounds as if the source tape has about 20 years of dust gathered on it. It has 4 comments, and 7 ratings. People of the internets, congratulations, for you have now entered the super secret society of "People Who Have Heard of the Catchy, Non-descript, and Apparently Completely Forgotten Band Called Hot House Flowers."
The song is called "Don't Go" and it was performed by a band called Hot House Flowers. It had a catchy, piano-driven accompaniment, which I thought was cool, and the lyrics go by relatively fast and are sort of meandering, as if the singer is deliberately trying to not think of the fact that he's being dumped. It's only 3 minutes long and snappy enough that if one were so inclined, one could dance around like a moron in the solitude of their apartment. Anyways, it was generally well put together enough that I forgave the unspeakably lame saxophone cameos, and generally have thought to myself, "Yeah, I can see people really liking this song. It should make some money."
In my 25.5 years on this planet, I have never heard any other mention of that song or band. No radio play, no commercials, no VH-1 "I Love the 80s" reference, nothing. Likewise, I've never said to anyone, "Hey, have you ever heard of the Hot House Flowers? They sing a pretty cool song called 'Don't Go.' I recommend you check them out."
I mention this because I'm trying to reorganize my unorganized CDs, and have noted with some horror that the ridiculous $1 clearanced compilation CD where I discovered this one is missing, and for all I know, my cd could very well be the only known copy of the song in existence. Amazon professes no knowledge that my cd ever existed.
Luckily, I did a YouTube search for it. I got 5 results. One was a "Gilmore Girls" clip. One was an anime clip. Two were unrelated Justin Timberlake videos (making his second cameo appearance on this blog, thanks to Susie in comments). And the other appears to be it, although it also appears and sounds as if the source tape has about 20 years of dust gathered on it. It has 4 comments, and 7 ratings. People of the internets, congratulations, for you have now entered the super secret society of "People Who Have Heard of the Catchy, Non-descript, and Apparently Completely Forgotten Band Called Hot House Flowers."
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thoughts on Songs I Heard On the Radio Today
"Layla", Derek and the Dominoes: This song is pretty much universally loved, as far as I can tell, and I'm no different, so I'm not going to make fun of it. Instead, I'd like to point out that the instrumental arrangement makes brilliant use of the tambourine. Ambient, noticeable, and not annoying. This marks the first time that anyone listened to "Layla" to appreciate the musicality of the tambourinist.
"Ain't No Sunshine", Bill Withers: I hear this song on the radio maybe once a month. Maybe. It's one of the best songs of the motown era, everyone loves it, and it's only two freaking minutes long. A station could play it five times a day and it would still only be 10 minutes of airtime used. Why is it never on the radio?
"Teach Your Children Well", Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young: I'm half-convinced that "Ain't No Sunshine" is never on the radio because the station I listen to has to play this one three times a day. I don't understand anything about this song. It's preachy, annoying, and not remotely catchy. How did a band that consisted of four good songwriters turn this one out? How did it survive the years? Why do I hear it more than every other CSNY song combined?
"Dance With Me," whoever sang "Dance With Me": This song sucks. Time to check the other oldies station.
"Dance With Me," whoever sang "Dance With Me": what the crap. Check G101.3.
"Semi-Charmed Life", Third Eye Blind: Attention, potential recording artists. Here is how to get me to buy your album. Write a song I like, and make sure it gets ridiculously edited on the radio, and I'll become so angered every time I hear the edited version that I will buy the CD just to make sure I can hear the real version whenever I want. And as far as utterly ridiculous radio edits go, this one takes the cake. The first half of the song is about how meth addiction is a great escape from one's problems and let's you feel as good as you've ever felt, and that's cool with the bigwigs at the corporate radio station, but they draw the line when it comes to that bridge that talks about how devastating the crash from a meth high is and how frustratingly impossible it is to get the high back. Good thing someone is thinking of the children.
I think I could probably do an entire blog post on songs that are ridiculously edited on the radio, but the list of victims I'd include would be too obvious: The Doors, Tommy James and the Shondells, Garth Brooks, and the B-52s immediately join Third Eye Blind.
"Ain't No Sunshine", Bill Withers: I hear this song on the radio maybe once a month. Maybe. It's one of the best songs of the motown era, everyone loves it, and it's only two freaking minutes long. A station could play it five times a day and it would still only be 10 minutes of airtime used. Why is it never on the radio?
"Teach Your Children Well", Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young: I'm half-convinced that "Ain't No Sunshine" is never on the radio because the station I listen to has to play this one three times a day. I don't understand anything about this song. It's preachy, annoying, and not remotely catchy. How did a band that consisted of four good songwriters turn this one out? How did it survive the years? Why do I hear it more than every other CSNY song combined?
"Dance With Me," whoever sang "Dance With Me": This song sucks. Time to check the other oldies station.
"Dance With Me," whoever sang "Dance With Me": what the crap. Check G101.3.
"Semi-Charmed Life", Third Eye Blind: Attention, potential recording artists. Here is how to get me to buy your album. Write a song I like, and make sure it gets ridiculously edited on the radio, and I'll become so angered every time I hear the edited version that I will buy the CD just to make sure I can hear the real version whenever I want. And as far as utterly ridiculous radio edits go, this one takes the cake. The first half of the song is about how meth addiction is a great escape from one's problems and let's you feel as good as you've ever felt, and that's cool with the bigwigs at the corporate radio station, but they draw the line when it comes to that bridge that talks about how devastating the crash from a meth high is and how frustratingly impossible it is to get the high back. Good thing someone is thinking of the children.
I think I could probably do an entire blog post on songs that are ridiculously edited on the radio, but the list of victims I'd include would be too obvious: The Doors, Tommy James and the Shondells, Garth Brooks, and the B-52s immediately join Third Eye Blind.
Friday, May 18, 2007
And Don't Even Get Me Started On Avril Lavigne
(Note to my legions of readers: I'm going to take a break from my usual nonsense and frivolity to tackle something serious that seriously irks me. This serious something involves gender issues, which I admit, based on my single-sex college education, is not really my forte even though I do take a layperson's interest in it. I'll probably say a few stupid things along the way that might offend you. This will be inadvertent, and I ask you in advance to forgive it. I'm on your side. Really. Tomorrow, I'll probably go back to laughing at the oddly placed quote balloons in Mark Trail.)
So I open my web browser tonight, and it goes automatically to Yahoo!, where the front page news item that greets me is "Is sexiness a must for today's female singers?" This question addresses a few issues that interest me, namely pop music, societal expectations, and sexy women, so I decide to click through and read the article. It took me exactly two paragraphs to be angered:
Yes, Jody Gerson, that is a terrible injustice. Talented women making good music that don't make it because some people might not think they're hot enough. If only we knew of someone who felt the same way, who believed that the public really does know the difference between good music and crap with pretty plastic packaging, and were in a position to do something about it. Oh well, I guess we can dream.
The next two paragraphs simply state the author's inspiration for this article: her favorite singer on American Idol was voted off. We really don't need to visit them. The two after that, however, are plenty disturbing:
I have admittedly quirky tastes when it comes to beauty. That said, Gwen Stefani is not really very attractive. In fact, I would say that if she weren't a famous singer, she would not be particularly noticeable. Also, Carrie Underwood looks like every other blonde girl on the planet, which is not particularly stunning. But they're both still good-looking, so I'll let it slide, because I don't want to overlook the "Let's pick two attractive female singers off of the list, tell our readers that they are in actuality NOT attractive, and use that as evidence that even the unattractive female singers are still attractive" argument. That's a bit of logical genius, right there. Also, why is it worth mentioning that the apparent hideous freakshow that is Kelly Clarkson only got her start through American Idol, but the fact that the stunning Carrie Underwood also only got her start through American Idol irrelevant?
But what is not said is that the real common thread of these singers is that they suck a lot of bootylicious ass (except for maybe that sexy tomboy Ciara, who still might suck. I've never actually heard of her before this article), and all of them are marketed solely because of their looks and not because of their sound. Hillary Duff, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan all have music albums, and while I haven't heard any of them, I'm 100% sure that they did not get them based on their musical ability.
About 8 zillion paragraphs later, during which we talk about the good old days when only MOST female singers were required to be hot, we finally get to the point of the article:
Now then, I was a foolish grasshopper liberal arts major in college rather than a practical ant business major, but I'm thinking the music industry might not be facing such dwindling profits and budgets if they focused on signing good artists rather than clothing deals, cosmetic contracts, movie roles, and modeling gigs. Because when I buy a CD, I don't really care what sort of clothes the singer is wearing on the cover. I don't care about the make-up. In fact, I don't really care what the singer looks like at all, because if I really feel the need to be aroused, I get about 50 emails a day that promise me free pornography that would probably work better than a pretty headshot on a CD cover. As for the movie roles, I can safely say that my enjoyment of Full Moon Fever didn't substantially increase after I saw Tom Petty's appearance in The Postman. Perhaps if the industry would work more on producing music and less on producing clothing endorsements, I might buy more recent cds rather than sifting through the used CD bin for "The Best of Motown" or the likes.
Also, while I was reflecting on the current female singers I tentatively like, I realized that I don't even know what KT Tunstall or Anna Nalick look like. And, while I find Sarah McLachlan attractive, I really don't remember ever hearing that she was. Then I made a quick laundry list of singers I heard a lot about how attractive they were: Madonna, Brittany Spears, Christina Aguilera, the aforementioned actor/socialite/singers, and quickly realized that "sexy" is another word for "sucks" when it comes to singers.
And thus, my deep-rooted prejudice against stereotypically "sexy" women comes into focus. Any time I see a mainstream sexy woman, I automatically assume she is incompetent and got where she is by her looks. And I blame the music industry for that. Thanks a lot, jerks.
Now, I'd like to leave this article at that, but we can't without one more bit of condescension...
(Translation: "Live in poverty, blow all of your meager savings, and squander your life striving for a goal we'll never let you reach! That way, no one ever has to look upon your hideous visage. I mean, we can't have TWO singers that are as unsightly as Kelly Clarkson.")
...and a bit of soulful self-reflection:
Well, I can't speak for Women in general, but I think Ms. Gerson specifically is squarely in service of The Man.
So I open my web browser tonight, and it goes automatically to Yahoo!, where the front page news item that greets me is "Is sexiness a must for today's female singers?" This question addresses a few issues that interest me, namely pop music, societal expectations, and sexy women, so I decide to click through and read the article. It took me exactly two paragraphs to be angered:
She was an "amazing talent," a young singer with a wonderful voice who wrote beautiful songs. But she was no beauty, plus flat-chested and overweight to boot.
Remembering the aspiring star, music executive Jody Gerson still feels terrible about thinking: "She's never going to get signed, even though she's fabulous."
Yes, Jody Gerson, that is a terrible injustice. Talented women making good music that don't make it because some people might not think they're hot enough. If only we knew of someone who felt the same way, who believed that the public really does know the difference between good music and crap with pretty plastic packaging, and were in a position to do something about it. Oh well, I guess we can dream.
The next two paragraphs simply state the author's inspiration for this article: her favorite singer on American Idol was voted off. We really don't need to visit them. The two after that, however, are plenty disturbing:
A quick check of the Billboard Top 40 turns up a list of candidates for "America's Top Model": Avril Lavigne, blonde stunner Carrie Underwood; tomboyish but sexy Ciara, fashionista Gwen Stefani and hip-swiveling Shakira (on a song featuring bootylicious Beyonce).
The only two in the Top 40 who might not be considered perfect 10s: Pink, who is still svelte and appealing; and multiplatinum Grammy-winner Kelly Clarkson, who got her break only through winning the democratically elected "American Idol."
I have admittedly quirky tastes when it comes to beauty. That said, Gwen Stefani is not really very attractive. In fact, I would say that if she weren't a famous singer, she would not be particularly noticeable. Also, Carrie Underwood looks like every other blonde girl on the planet, which is not particularly stunning. But they're both still good-looking, so I'll let it slide, because I don't want to overlook the "Let's pick two attractive female singers off of the list, tell our readers that they are in actuality NOT attractive, and use that as evidence that even the unattractive female singers are still attractive" argument. That's a bit of logical genius, right there. Also, why is it worth mentioning that the apparent hideous freakshow that is Kelly Clarkson only got her start through American Idol, but the fact that the stunning Carrie Underwood also only got her start through American Idol irrelevant?
But what is not said is that the real common thread of these singers is that they suck a lot of bootylicious ass (except for maybe that sexy tomboy Ciara, who still might suck. I've never actually heard of her before this article), and all of them are marketed solely because of their looks and not because of their sound. Hillary Duff, Paris Hilton, and Lindsay Lohan all have music albums, and while I haven't heard any of them, I'm 100% sure that they did not get them based on their musical ability.
About 8 zillion paragraphs later, during which we talk about the good old days when only MOST female singers were required to be hot, we finally get to the point of the article:
Gerson also agrees with Wilson about the marketing factor. With dwindling profits and budgets, record labels try to maximize artist exposure with clothing deals, cosmetic contracts, movie roles and modeling gigs.
"How many endorsements does Beyonce have? Do you think it's because she's the most talented person on earth or do you think it's because she's gorgeous? I think she's talented but she's also gorgeous," Gerson says. "I think you need the whole package."
Now then, I was a foolish grasshopper liberal arts major in college rather than a practical ant business major, but I'm thinking the music industry might not be facing such dwindling profits and budgets if they focused on signing good artists rather than clothing deals, cosmetic contracts, movie roles, and modeling gigs. Because when I buy a CD, I don't really care what sort of clothes the singer is wearing on the cover. I don't care about the make-up. In fact, I don't really care what the singer looks like at all, because if I really feel the need to be aroused, I get about 50 emails a day that promise me free pornography that would probably work better than a pretty headshot on a CD cover. As for the movie roles, I can safely say that my enjoyment of Full Moon Fever didn't substantially increase after I saw Tom Petty's appearance in The Postman. Perhaps if the industry would work more on producing music and less on producing clothing endorsements, I might buy more recent cds rather than sifting through the used CD bin for "The Best of Motown" or the likes.
Also, while I was reflecting on the current female singers I tentatively like, I realized that I don't even know what KT Tunstall or Anna Nalick look like. And, while I find Sarah McLachlan attractive, I really don't remember ever hearing that she was. Then I made a quick laundry list of singers I heard a lot about how attractive they were: Madonna, Brittany Spears, Christina Aguilera, the aforementioned actor/socialite/singers, and quickly realized that "sexy" is another word for "sucks" when it comes to singers.
And thus, my deep-rooted prejudice against stereotypically "sexy" women comes into focus. Any time I see a mainstream sexy woman, I automatically assume she is incompetent and got where she is by her looks. And I blame the music industry for that. Thanks a lot, jerks.
Now, I'd like to leave this article at that, but we can't without one more bit of condescension...
So how would Gerson advise the flat-chested, overweight, amazingly talented singer to chase her dream? Put out her own music and promote herself on the Web.
(Translation: "Live in poverty, blow all of your meager savings, and squander your life striving for a goal we'll never let you reach! That way, no one ever has to look upon your hideous visage. I mean, we can't have TWO singers that are as unsightly as Kelly Clarkson.")
...and a bit of soulful self-reflection:
"As far as we've come as women," Gerson asked, "where are we really?"
Well, I can't speak for Women in general, but I think Ms. Gerson specifically is squarely in service of The Man.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
On Guacamole
Yesterday, I ventured down to Connersville to hang out with Jeff for a couple hours, get some Mexican food and inadvertently celebrate Cinco de mayo. It was a good time. Here are some snippets of wisdom shared over some chimichangas:
Jeff: I don't like guacamole, so I didn't eat it.
Andy: You don't like guacamole? That's really weird.
Jeff: Well, I can eat it, but I'm not all "I LOVE guacamole!"
Andy: Yeah, I'm the same way with The Matrix. It was all right, but everyone else seems to think it's the best movie ever made, so I like it less.
Jeff: Exactly.
Andy: And the Rolling Stones are the same.
Jeff: I HATE the Rolling Stones.
Andy: I always think I do, but I think I might just like the Stones much much less than everyone else, because I always sing along with their songs on the radio. Although they never play the Stones songs I really like, like "Under My Thumb" and, uh, well, "Under My Thumb".
Jeff: They're just not as good as everyone says. That's what bothers me.
Andy: Yeah, if they were treated more like Tommy James and the Shondells, I'd have no problems with them. ...well, except for "Start Me Up."
BOTH: GOD I HATE THAT SONG.
Jeff: and "Satisfaction" too.
Jeff: I don't like guacamole, so I didn't eat it.
Andy: You don't like guacamole? That's really weird.
Jeff: Well, I can eat it, but I'm not all "I LOVE guacamole!"
Andy: Yeah, I'm the same way with The Matrix. It was all right, but everyone else seems to think it's the best movie ever made, so I like it less.
Jeff: Exactly.
Andy: And the Rolling Stones are the same.
Jeff: I HATE the Rolling Stones.
Andy: I always think I do, but I think I might just like the Stones much much less than everyone else, because I always sing along with their songs on the radio. Although they never play the Stones songs I really like, like "Under My Thumb" and, uh, well, "Under My Thumb".
Jeff: They're just not as good as everyone says. That's what bothers me.
Andy: Yeah, if they were treated more like Tommy James and the Shondells, I'd have no problems with them. ...well, except for "Start Me Up."
BOTH: GOD I HATE THAT SONG.
Jeff: and "Satisfaction" too.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Answering Pop Music's Most Trying Questions
Q: When the truth is found to be lies, and all the joy within you dies, don't you want somebody to love?
A: No. Not at all. When all the joy within me dies, as it has on a few occasions, I want to disappear. I want to pack up all my belongings that I can, and go somewhere cold where I will not be found or hassled ever again. I do not think, "You know, I could really go for a quick screw right now. That will make everything better."
A: No. Not at all. When all the joy within me dies, as it has on a few occasions, I want to disappear. I want to pack up all my belongings that I can, and go somewhere cold where I will not be found or hassled ever again. I do not think, "You know, I could really go for a quick screw right now. That will make everything better."
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
I Forgot to Name This Post
I have a very peculiar habit of singing whatever song happens to get stuck in my head. Most people just sort of hum it, sort of sway to the beat that is going on inside their brain, or just whistle. I sing, and I generally don't merely sing, but I tend to belt. For the most part, this isn't a problem, and people tend to respond in a few predictable ways:
1. Ignore me.
2. Give me a smile or a nod, as if to say, "I think it's pretty cool that you sing in public."
3. Compliment me on my voice, which I will confess, is awesome when I keep it within its sadly limited range.
4. Give me a weird look and move away, as if to say "What's this? Mirth and merriment in public? Leave me to my silent, sullen misery."
Usually the song will be whatever song happened to be on the radio lately. For example, "Touch Me" by the Doors has been getting considerable airplay lately on the oldies station I listen to, and if you can resist yelling out "C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, now-----TOUCH me baby..." after the opening chords in synchronized rhythms rise to their peak, well, you have more willpower than me. Which isn't really hard, as I will continue failing to resist that for the rest of the day, to the amusement of my coworkers and the residents we take care of.
However, sometimes random and wholly inappropriate songs enter my head and demand to be sung, and these cause result number 4 to occur in much higher numbers. The unspoken statement becomes "You frighten me, and I think it best we keep our distance."
Such was the case at Meijer tonight while I was shopping for the cleaning supplies I neglected to pick up yesterday. Night shift people are a pretty tolerant lot; only the biggest oddballs are out during the vampire hours, so a little acceptance is in order. However, I could tell I was disturbing even this usually unflappable clientele with my impromptu concert's playlist tonight.
What was this song? Well, it's catchy. It promotes social awareness. It has many passionate, emotional lines that demand the singer to harness the soul. It advocates a radical redistribution of income on a global scale. And if you loudly belt it out while doing grocery shopping in the middle of an April night, people give you weird looks and move away from you.
And if you dare, you can listen to it yourself here. And then imagine me singing it loudly in Meijer in the middle of the night, and not just singing the song, but changing the inflection of my voice when the singer changes.
1. Ignore me.
2. Give me a smile or a nod, as if to say, "I think it's pretty cool that you sing in public."
3. Compliment me on my voice, which I will confess, is awesome when I keep it within its sadly limited range.
4. Give me a weird look and move away, as if to say "What's this? Mirth and merriment in public? Leave me to my silent, sullen misery."
Usually the song will be whatever song happened to be on the radio lately. For example, "Touch Me" by the Doors has been getting considerable airplay lately on the oldies station I listen to, and if you can resist yelling out "C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, C'MON, now-----TOUCH me baby..." after the opening chords in synchronized rhythms rise to their peak, well, you have more willpower than me. Which isn't really hard, as I will continue failing to resist that for the rest of the day, to the amusement of my coworkers and the residents we take care of.
However, sometimes random and wholly inappropriate songs enter my head and demand to be sung, and these cause result number 4 to occur in much higher numbers. The unspoken statement becomes "You frighten me, and I think it best we keep our distance."
Such was the case at Meijer tonight while I was shopping for the cleaning supplies I neglected to pick up yesterday. Night shift people are a pretty tolerant lot; only the biggest oddballs are out during the vampire hours, so a little acceptance is in order. However, I could tell I was disturbing even this usually unflappable clientele with my impromptu concert's playlist tonight.
What was this song? Well, it's catchy. It promotes social awareness. It has many passionate, emotional lines that demand the singer to harness the soul. It advocates a radical redistribution of income on a global scale. And if you loudly belt it out while doing grocery shopping in the middle of an April night, people give you weird looks and move away from you.
And if you dare, you can listen to it yourself here. And then imagine me singing it loudly in Meijer in the middle of the night, and not just singing the song, but changing the inflection of my voice when the singer changes.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Another Music Post
Yes, I'm stuck in a rut.
Today I realized that I can quickly and easily determine how much I like a band. I've been judging artists on a song by song basis for some time, accepting that artists have hits and misses, and then assessing how much I like the band based on how many songs I like as opposed to how many songs I dislike. This approach proved economical until I realized that comparing one artist to another suddenly involves a complicated calculus of positive songs to negative songs and failed to take into account the quality of the songs themselves by distilling them to mere +'s and -'s.
I have since come up with a much simpler system: now, to determine exactly how much I like a band, I just name my favorite song by them, and the more obscure the song is, the more I like the artist. There are those who say that picking a favorite isn't easy, but it is. It should be a quick, knee jerk, first song to enter your head. Watch as the system works with ten random bands/songs that come to mind:
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: "Rhino Skin"
Elton John: "Levon"
The Cars: "You Might Think"
Nirvana: "Heart Shaped Box"
Dave Matthews Band: "Ants Marching"
They Might Be Giants: "Ana Ng"
Billy Joel: "Don't Ask Me Why"
Neil Diamond: "Solitary Man"
Simon and Garfunkel: "Keep the Customer Satisfied"
The Ventures: "Walk, Don't Run"
So, rearranging these in order of obscurity, we get:
1. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
2. Simon and Garfunkel
3. They Might Be Giants
4. Elton John
5. The Cars
6. Billy Joel
7. Neil Diamond
8. The Ventures
9. Nirvana
10. Dave Matthews Band
which is an agreeable order, with a few problems:
1. It is difficult to rank They Might Be Giants, as they're a relatively obscure band as opposed to the others, and thus have a leg up in obscurity. Basically, I figured that I could name at least two dozen TP and S&G songs that are better known than my two favorites, while Ana Ng is one of TMBG's better known songs. However, since it takes more effort to follow a lesser known band, perhaps the extra effort suggests I like them more.
2. I'm unhappy about The Ventures' free fall to 8, below both Neil Diamond and Billy Joel, because I'm pretty sure I like The Ventures better than either of those. It's just that "Walk, Don't Run" is really, really catchy. This system may penalize bands that have a singular masterpiece backed with a solid repertoire.
3. 4 and 5 are practically interchangeable, while there is a chasm between 5 and 6. I'll routinely list Elton John and The Cars among my favorite artists. Billy Joel, meanwhile, is just an artist I appreciate. There is also a chasm between 9 and 10, which leads to...
4. Would this work in ranking bands I don't like who managed to provide a song I thought was good? Or would I have to rank my least favorite songs by those artists? It's a good thing I don't have a girlfriend, otherwise I wouldn't have time to think all this through.
Today I realized that I can quickly and easily determine how much I like a band. I've been judging artists on a song by song basis for some time, accepting that artists have hits and misses, and then assessing how much I like the band based on how many songs I like as opposed to how many songs I dislike. This approach proved economical until I realized that comparing one artist to another suddenly involves a complicated calculus of positive songs to negative songs and failed to take into account the quality of the songs themselves by distilling them to mere +'s and -'s.
I have since come up with a much simpler system: now, to determine exactly how much I like a band, I just name my favorite song by them, and the more obscure the song is, the more I like the artist. There are those who say that picking a favorite isn't easy, but it is. It should be a quick, knee jerk, first song to enter your head. Watch as the system works with ten random bands/songs that come to mind:
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers: "Rhino Skin"
Elton John: "Levon"
The Cars: "You Might Think"
Nirvana: "Heart Shaped Box"
Dave Matthews Band: "Ants Marching"
They Might Be Giants: "Ana Ng"
Billy Joel: "Don't Ask Me Why"
Neil Diamond: "Solitary Man"
Simon and Garfunkel: "Keep the Customer Satisfied"
The Ventures: "Walk, Don't Run"
So, rearranging these in order of obscurity, we get:
1. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
2. Simon and Garfunkel
3. They Might Be Giants
4. Elton John
5. The Cars
6. Billy Joel
7. Neil Diamond
8. The Ventures
9. Nirvana
10. Dave Matthews Band
which is an agreeable order, with a few problems:
1. It is difficult to rank They Might Be Giants, as they're a relatively obscure band as opposed to the others, and thus have a leg up in obscurity. Basically, I figured that I could name at least two dozen TP and S&G songs that are better known than my two favorites, while Ana Ng is one of TMBG's better known songs. However, since it takes more effort to follow a lesser known band, perhaps the extra effort suggests I like them more.
2. I'm unhappy about The Ventures' free fall to 8, below both Neil Diamond and Billy Joel, because I'm pretty sure I like The Ventures better than either of those. It's just that "Walk, Don't Run" is really, really catchy. This system may penalize bands that have a singular masterpiece backed with a solid repertoire.
3. 4 and 5 are practically interchangeable, while there is a chasm between 5 and 6. I'll routinely list Elton John and The Cars among my favorite artists. Billy Joel, meanwhile, is just an artist I appreciate. There is also a chasm between 9 and 10, which leads to...
4. Would this work in ranking bands I don't like who managed to provide a song I thought was good? Or would I have to rank my least favorite songs by those artists? It's a good thing I don't have a girlfriend, otherwise I wouldn't have time to think all this through.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
It Didn't Feel Like the First Time the Second Time
Today, I heard Foreigner's "Feels Like the First Time" not once, but twice. Both times, pretty much the only thing I thought was this.
Wait, I also thought that if I were to write a parody of the song using the dumbest lyrics imaginable, I would not be able to top "It feels like the first time/like it never felt before."
Wait, I also thought that if I were to write a parody of the song using the dumbest lyrics imaginable, I would not be able to top "It feels like the first time/like it never felt before."
Thursday, April 5, 2007
More Thoughts on Songs I Heard On the Radio Today
"Small Town", John Mellencamp: I take issue with the line "I can be myself living in a small town, where people let me be just what I want to be." Perhaps Seymour is more enlightened and laid back than most small towns in Indiana, but my experience has been quite the opposite. People do not let you be just who you want to be if you want to be somewhat quirky. If you want to be a constantly conforming tool, however, then I guess you're in the right place.
"Uptown Girl", Billy Joel: Somehow, I just don't buy into the notion that Billy Joel was ever keeping it real in the ghetto, (...in the ghet-TO!), unable to draw the attention of the pretentious, pampered girl from uptown. I find it much more likely that Billy Joel was a smarmy, upwardly mobile yuppie in his youth, probably oozing disdain for everyone around him. In fact, I'm almost positive. Just listen to "Piano Man" with its thesis of "I'm better than all you losers, so I'm getting out of here."
"Cruel To Be Kind", Nick Lowe: It's a good thing I don't hear this song frequently enough to know the words to it, because if I did I would probably quote it multiple times a day and get considerably more weird looks from my coworkers. Also, this, along with the Bay City Rollers post a couple spots down, shows that I may have a strange weakness for short, snappy, pop songs, which I think might be a dying art form. See also "The Letter" by The Box Tops, "Paperback Writer" by The Beatles, and "There She Goes" by The La's.
"Uptown Girl", Billy Joel: Somehow, I just don't buy into the notion that Billy Joel was ever keeping it real in the ghetto, (...in the ghet-TO!), unable to draw the attention of the pretentious, pampered girl from uptown. I find it much more likely that Billy Joel was a smarmy, upwardly mobile yuppie in his youth, probably oozing disdain for everyone around him. In fact, I'm almost positive. Just listen to "Piano Man" with its thesis of "I'm better than all you losers, so I'm getting out of here."
"Cruel To Be Kind", Nick Lowe: It's a good thing I don't hear this song frequently enough to know the words to it, because if I did I would probably quote it multiple times a day and get considerably more weird looks from my coworkers. Also, this, along with the Bay City Rollers post a couple spots down, shows that I may have a strange weakness for short, snappy, pop songs, which I think might be a dying art form. See also "The Letter" by The Box Tops, "Paperback Writer" by The Beatles, and "There She Goes" by The La's.
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