Yeah.
My FB friend who lives on or near the beach in Malibu and delights in posting the same five music videos went off on a posted rant today about how he hates his FB friends from high school.
We all got bald and fat, and he didn't; and he LIVES FOR TODAY, and we don't.
Either the dude's got a drinking problem or he's just sort of mentally floated free of the dock.
Dunno which.
One person made the obvious suggestion to him that he simply de-friend the people he dislikes so much ... he didn't respond.
Hasn't de-friended me, anyway.
(I wonder if he got set off by the classmate who recently posted that the highlight of her recent trip to New Orleans was a Sheryl Crow concert.)
Might as well mention the other chick in SoCal I mentioned in passing the other day.
She's interesting b/c she's all about the dolce vita -- yoga; beach; tan; outdoors; (apparently) plenty of money; the whole Cali enchilada.
It's just so perfect (at least, by the standards of people who consider that kind of thing perfection) that I sometimes wonder if it isn't a front ... whether she isn't actually living in a low-rent motel room.
I would think about it more if I actually cared about this person. But really, she never liked me in HS and I never liked her.
She was popular and kinda stuck-up, very much a Benetton princess.
So it doesn't really matter to me whether her life is real or not.
Work has been OK. It's always very busy right before you take off and right after. I'm looking forward to that middle ground.
Learned today that my company's going to have a challenging couple of years ... not really a surprise but I hadn't heard it spelled out as thoroughly as I did.
Not gonna say more.
Got a few plans for my vaca, but also planning to spend some time sitting in the sun and letting my beard grow back like a derelict.
Oughta be fun.
RIP Mollie Sugden, a.k.a. Mrs Slocombe of "Are You Being Served?" -- perhaps the all-time definitive example of a British sitcom imported to U.S. public television, where it was completely and totally unwatchable.
Wiki tells us that Ms. Sugden also starred in what might have been the worst British sitcom ever made -- and it wasn't "Are You Being Served?"
Not much else cooking. I gotta do some packing n' preparing before bed.
See y'all around.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The crunge.
All! How are ya?
This is almost certainly the slowest month for posting since I started this blog.
Just too damn much else to do besides blogging lately.
The next week's gonna be even quieter, too -- I'm going home to WNY for a while and don't expect that I'll post.
I don't think I'm anywhere near giving up on this; it's just a dry spell.
Probably late in July or sometime in August, I will explode with great shimmering displays of wit and humour.
(OK, I wouldn't really hold my breath. But I do anticipate I'll get back to posting more often.)
Stuff that makes me laugh on Facebook:
* One friend (an old HS acquaintance, not someone I was close to) in SoCal who delights in repeatedly posting the same five music videos from YouTube.
* The fact that eight of my FB friends posted status updates mentioning the death of Billy Mays.
I literally have never seen the guy, not even once -- I don't watch late-night TV.
But apparently he was this massive pop-culture presence.
Just another indicator of how insanely out of touch I am.
* People who click the "like" button on photos or videos they've posted themselves.
Dude, of course you like it. YOU POSTED IT.
(I take it back -- this doesn't make me laugh; it makes me irritable.)
There's this other chick in SoCal ... well, I'll write about her another day. She's also got a spot on my list of blog entries not yet written.
Today was my wife's birthday. Surprised her by buying her lunch. She was quite charmed.
I'm so friggin' suave.
Still not exercising regularly. Bloat.
Heard a lame AT40 last night. It was 1974 -- only two weeks after they replayed a 1974 countdown. So it was most of the same tunes, only shuffled around, and with a truly dogshit Number One to top it all off.
I'll probably blog it one of these days since I went to the length of writing it down ... plus, it does have one or two genuinely noteworthy historical moments.
Downloading a free sampler from some indie record label that I don't know (cooler people than me probably think they're, like, soooooooo 2007.)
I desperately need some new tunes to listen to, so I figure it's worth a shot.
This is also Volume 6 of their samplers; wonder if Vols. 1-5 are still kicking around in some corner of the Interwebs.
Not all that interested in the tale of Mark Sanford, except to wonder if the whole thing indicates that he's not mentally stable enough to hold office.
I mean, if you're so besotted with someone that you fly to South America to see them, and you perceive that you can somehow play it off ...
... and you run a state ...
... nuh-uh.
Gonna go now. Other things calling as they always do.
This is almost certainly the slowest month for posting since I started this blog.
Just too damn much else to do besides blogging lately.
The next week's gonna be even quieter, too -- I'm going home to WNY for a while and don't expect that I'll post.
I don't think I'm anywhere near giving up on this; it's just a dry spell.
Probably late in July or sometime in August, I will explode with great shimmering displays of wit and humour.
(OK, I wouldn't really hold my breath. But I do anticipate I'll get back to posting more often.)
Stuff that makes me laugh on Facebook:
* One friend (an old HS acquaintance, not someone I was close to) in SoCal who delights in repeatedly posting the same five music videos from YouTube.
* The fact that eight of my FB friends posted status updates mentioning the death of Billy Mays.
I literally have never seen the guy, not even once -- I don't watch late-night TV.
But apparently he was this massive pop-culture presence.
Just another indicator of how insanely out of touch I am.
* People who click the "like" button on photos or videos they've posted themselves.
Dude, of course you like it. YOU POSTED IT.
(I take it back -- this doesn't make me laugh; it makes me irritable.)
There's this other chick in SoCal ... well, I'll write about her another day. She's also got a spot on my list of blog entries not yet written.
Today was my wife's birthday. Surprised her by buying her lunch. She was quite charmed.
I'm so friggin' suave.
Still not exercising regularly. Bloat.
Heard a lame AT40 last night. It was 1974 -- only two weeks after they replayed a 1974 countdown. So it was most of the same tunes, only shuffled around, and with a truly dogshit Number One to top it all off.
I'll probably blog it one of these days since I went to the length of writing it down ... plus, it does have one or two genuinely noteworthy historical moments.
Downloading a free sampler from some indie record label that I don't know (cooler people than me probably think they're, like, soooooooo 2007.)
I desperately need some new tunes to listen to, so I figure it's worth a shot.
This is also Volume 6 of their samplers; wonder if Vols. 1-5 are still kicking around in some corner of the Interwebs.
Not all that interested in the tale of Mark Sanford, except to wonder if the whole thing indicates that he's not mentally stable enough to hold office.
I mean, if you're so besotted with someone that you fly to South America to see them, and you perceive that you can somehow play it off ...
... and you run a state ...
... nuh-uh.
Gonna go now. Other things calling as they always do.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
June 19, 1976: The small screen.
Yup. Casey spins 'em, I blog 'em, with favorites in bold.
And now, the usual snide, shallow commentary on the Top 40 hits in the land for the week ending June 19, 1976.
That's right, folks, don't touch that dial:
No. 40, debut: "Rock n' Roll Music," The Beach Boys.
Normally I would be inclined to automatically bold-face anything by the Beach Boys -- especially their first hit in several years.
But really, this cover just kinda farts along, with precious little rock'n'roll energy.
The stompy, primitive drums (which are "primitive" in a poorly played way, not "primitive" in a raw, primal, exciting way) just have to be Dennis Wilson.
No. 39: "Mamma Mia," ABBA. Before THAT MOVIE came out, I would have accepted this as a pleasant if overly mannered slice of semi-novelty Swede-pop.
(Do Swedes really say "mamma mia?" Does anybody nowadays? Has the expression "mamma mia" gone the way of the nickname "Dutch"?)
But now ... nnnnnhhhhhh.
No. 38, fifteenth week on the chart: "Get Right Back," Maxine Nightingale.
I love this song -- not quite enough to bold it, but I love it.
It is to clap tracks what the mythical Gene Frenkle and Bruce Dickinson are to cowbell.
No. 37: "I'm Easy," Keith Carradine.
Casey points out that this song from the movie "Nashville" bombed upon its release in '75, but caught on after Carradine performed it on the Oscars telecast.
(This is just the first of many ways in which TV will figure into today's countdown.)
Laid-back and open-shirted as it is, this is a damned good song by the standards of actor-singers. I much prefer this to the efforts of actors from my hit-radio generation, like Bruce Willis, Don Johnson or Patrick Swayze.
No. 36, debut: "Turn The Beat Around," Vickie Sue Robinson. As one disco one-hit wonder (Maxine Nightingale) was about to slide off the charts, another one was on the rise.
OK, they both probably managed to slide another tune in at No. 38 or something, but to me, they're one-hit wonders.
I like Maxine better.
No. 35: "Save Your Kisses For Me," the Brotherhood of Man. A weird, out-of-place slice of 1971-style bubblegum, complete with jaunty rhythm and rinky-dink horns.
Not for me.
No. 34: Believe it or not, I flat-out missed whatever was at Number 34. Sorry, folks. I've let you down. I'll try not to do it again.
No. 33: "Tear The Roof Off The Sucker," Parliament. The "Mothership Connection" album, from which this comes, was one of my first connections to funk music, back around freshman year of high school. I'll always have a fondness for it.
Casey answers a listener's question about whether songs have ever fallen out of the Top 10 and then gone back in. The most extreme example: BTO's "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" went from No. 1 to No. 12 to No. 34 and back to No. 8 in consecutive weeks.
No. 32: Cyndi Grecco, "Makin' Our Dreams Come True," otherwise known as the Theme to "Laverne and Shirley."
This one still sounds great, even with a sax solo and a key change stuck in to embiggen it to single-length.
The rhythmic switch behind the words "There ain't nothin' we won't try / Never heard the word 'impossible' " is the single best (and subtlest) use of the baion since Phil Spector.
Casey makes a tease he must have been dreaming of since 1970: Coming up, the return of the Beatles!
No. 31: "Let Her In," John Travolta. See comment on No. 37.
No. 30: "Today's the Day," America. With a bit of gravel in the grammar: "You're the most brightest star that lights my way."
No. 29, debut: The Beatles, "Got To Get You Into My Life." I forget why they saw fit to release McCartney's ode to marijuana as a single 10 years after the fact.
But they did, and the people of this great country still had enough taste left to make it a substantial hit.
After the song, Casey says with an almost visible gleam in his eye: "Can you believe it? The Beatles and the Beach Boys back on the chart in the same week?"
Bless ya, Case -- this is your reward for all those weeks you had to put up with "Seasons in the Sun" and "The Lord's Prayer" and "I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing."
No. 28: "That's Where the Happy People Go," the Trammps.
What makes the Trammps not one-hit wonders? Well, this.
Kind of the same chugging drum rhythm as "Disco Inferno," and of course the lead singer has the same readily identifiable timbre.
This is not as good as "Inferno," but it does have a marvelous refrain: "The disco / That's where the happy people go."
(What did you expect? Burger King?)
No. 27: "You're My Best Friend," Queen.
No. 26: "Get Closer," Seals and Crofts. Casey announces this is one of five duos on the charts this week ... so when the female voice comes in, my wife asks hesitantly: "So Seals was the woman, and Crofts was the man?"
No, dear ... Casey is misleading you; this is really more like a trio, albeit uncredited.
I somewhat enjoy this song, though it has its shortcomings -- for instance, the second verse just sort of arrives.
No. 25: "Boogie Fever," the Sylvers.
No. 24: "Welcome Back," John Sebastian. Two former No. Ones, back to back at 24 and 25.
I like this one better.
In fact, I would probably vote for this as the best TV-theme-turned-hit-single of all time, even if its cheerful, ambling folkie groove in no way conjures up the gritty Brooklyn milieu of Gabe Kotter and the Sweathogs.
Unlike other TV themes, this one doesn't sound like it was artificially lengthened -- there's no forced key change that reminds you that you usually hear a compressed 30-second version.
No. 23: "Rhiannon," Fleetwood Mac.
Yeah. I bolded a Fleetwood Mac song. Bite me.
I happen to like the groove on this song -- the electric piano and the Mac rhythm section (who have always tended toward the marvelously subtle) create a good atmosphere for Stevie Nicks' tales of bedknobs and broomsticks.
No. 22: "The Boys are Back In Town," Thin Lizzy. I never cared much for this; they can sell it to as many lad-movies and beer commercials as they want.
No. 21: "Fool to Cry," Rolling Stones.
I said to my wife, "There's a reason the classic-rock stations play 'Miss You' twice an hour but will never play this."
Maybe it's the way Bill Wyman's bass burps unbecomingly up in the mix, or maybe it's the limp, watery guitar playing.
I still insist that "Moonlight Mile" and "Beast of Burden" are the only two ballads that this bunch have ever really nailed.
(Edit: As reader Johnny B. points out in the comments, I may be stretching things a bit to class "Beast of Burden" as a ballad. Could be.)
No. 20: "Keep Your Eye on the Sparrow," Rhythm Heritage. Otherwise known as the theme from "Baretta," a show I don't think I've ever seen all the way through.
The third TV theme in this week's countdown.
No. 19: "Take the Money and Run," Steve Miller Band.
No. 18: "Moonlight Feels Right," Starbuck. Yacht-rock (literally) at its finest. Who wouldn't want to luxuriate in synth swizzles and a vibraphone solo in between banging some recently graduated Southern co-ed on a boat in Chesapeake Bay?
Scoff that, Jimmy Buffett.
No. 17: "Never Gonna Fall In Love Again," Eric Carmen.
I have all sorts of love for Eric, but really, this is way too Manilowish.
No. 16: "I Want You," Marvin Gaye. Maybe the first Marvin Gaye song I genuinely like, even if it is a little unbalanced: It kinda stays in one place for a minute, and then the chord changes start going by at, like, two per measure.
No. 15: "Movin'," the Brass Construction. Nice Bernie Worrell-ish synth playing. I kinda gently lukewarmly like it.
No. 14: "Takin' It To The Streets," the Doobie Brothers. I hate corporate rock'n'roll bands that sing about "the streets."
No. 13: Gary Wright, "Love Is Alive." Was this guy the Howard Jones of the '70s -- kind of a one-man show surrounded by keyboards?
This one's better than "Dream Weaver." In fact I almost bolded it. But not quite.
No. 12: "Kiss and Say Goodbye," the Manhattans. Starts with a spoken-word voice-over, and if you've been paying attention, you know what the house rule on those is.
No. 11: Pratt and McClain, "Happy Days." Yup, the fourth TV theme on this week's countdown.
I haven't seen an episode of "Happy Days" in donkey's years, though I sure used to see a lot of it growing up.
Wonder what Tom Bosley's up to now ... and Erin Moran?
Oh, yeah, the song ... the song is forgettable.
Casey plays a damn fine AT40 Extra: BB King's "The Thrill Is Gone" from 1969. This blows that Pratt and McClain stuff right out the door.
No. 10: "I'll Be Good To You," the Brothers Johnson. Mellow ballad, and absolutely nothing like you'd imagine the record sounded like if you only saw the single sleeve.
No. 9, up from 33 two weeks ago and No. 25 last week, and on its way to Number One: "Afternoon Delight," Starland Vocal Band.
Wonder if the guy and his Mississippi-born chick on the boat in Chesapeake Bay had this playing on their AM transistor radio while they, uh, hiked the Appalachian Trail?
No. 8: "More, More, More," the Andrea True Connection. We don't get enough porn stars scoring Top 40 hits any more.
This is pretty sloppy if you listen -- there's a trumpet player who can't quite get to what's written, and an unfunky drum drop that happens at the absolutely most noticeable and distracting spot.
(Did they hire Dennis Wilson?)
No. 7: "Shop Around," Captain and Tennille. Gotta have a cheesy cover every week and this one's it; worse even than the one at No. 40.
No. 6: "Shannon," Henry Gross. Didn't listen. Isn't this the one about a dog that drowns or something?
Hey, I didn't watch "Marley and Me" either.
No. 5: "Sara Smile," Hall and Oates. Not their best tune but Daryl Hall's voice is always a pleasure.
No. 4: "Love Hangover," Diana Ross.
Yet another song with a flaw I find endlessly annoying:
When Miss Ross yells "Hang-o-ver!" at that point when the tempo speeds up, is it just me, or is she at least half a tone flat?
I bet the lust-crazed, sunscreen-streaked couple on the yacht liked it when this one came on too.
No. 3: "Misty Blue," Dorothy Moore. I didn't listen to it, and in fact, I can't find the melody in my head -- I keep trying to think of it but I keep coming up with "Moody Blue" instead.
No matter; we're almost done.
No. 2: "Get Up and Boogie," Silver Convention. No idea why this one got any higher than, say, No. 22.
No. 1 for, I think, the fourth non-consecutive week: "Silly Love Songs," Wings.
This song is an absolute triumph for McCartney -- the moment where he packaged his entire philosophy into one perfect, catchy, not-a-note-or-instrument-out-of-place arrangement.
(Also, rather than combining song fragments into one tune, he actually bothered to sit down and write himself a whole song. It paid off.)
I can still hear it coming over the radio (AM-only, natch) in my parents' big Plymouth Satellite on long car trips.
I wonder what John Lennon thought when this came over his radio in the Dakota.
And now, the usual snide, shallow commentary on the Top 40 hits in the land for the week ending June 19, 1976.
That's right, folks, don't touch that dial:
No. 40, debut: "Rock n' Roll Music," The Beach Boys.
Normally I would be inclined to automatically bold-face anything by the Beach Boys -- especially their first hit in several years.
But really, this cover just kinda farts along, with precious little rock'n'roll energy.
The stompy, primitive drums (which are "primitive" in a poorly played way, not "primitive" in a raw, primal, exciting way) just have to be Dennis Wilson.
No. 39: "Mamma Mia," ABBA. Before THAT MOVIE came out, I would have accepted this as a pleasant if overly mannered slice of semi-novelty Swede-pop.
(Do Swedes really say "mamma mia?" Does anybody nowadays? Has the expression "mamma mia" gone the way of the nickname "Dutch"?)
But now ... nnnnnhhhhhh.
No. 38, fifteenth week on the chart: "Get Right Back," Maxine Nightingale.
I love this song -- not quite enough to bold it, but I love it.
It is to clap tracks what the mythical Gene Frenkle and Bruce Dickinson are to cowbell.
No. 37: "I'm Easy," Keith Carradine.
Casey points out that this song from the movie "Nashville" bombed upon its release in '75, but caught on after Carradine performed it on the Oscars telecast.
(This is just the first of many ways in which TV will figure into today's countdown.)
Laid-back and open-shirted as it is, this is a damned good song by the standards of actor-singers. I much prefer this to the efforts of actors from my hit-radio generation, like Bruce Willis, Don Johnson or Patrick Swayze.
No. 36, debut: "Turn The Beat Around," Vickie Sue Robinson. As one disco one-hit wonder (Maxine Nightingale) was about to slide off the charts, another one was on the rise.
OK, they both probably managed to slide another tune in at No. 38 or something, but to me, they're one-hit wonders.
I like Maxine better.
No. 35: "Save Your Kisses For Me," the Brotherhood of Man. A weird, out-of-place slice of 1971-style bubblegum, complete with jaunty rhythm and rinky-dink horns.
Not for me.
No. 34: Believe it or not, I flat-out missed whatever was at Number 34. Sorry, folks. I've let you down. I'll try not to do it again.
No. 33: "Tear The Roof Off The Sucker," Parliament. The "Mothership Connection" album, from which this comes, was one of my first connections to funk music, back around freshman year of high school. I'll always have a fondness for it.
Casey answers a listener's question about whether songs have ever fallen out of the Top 10 and then gone back in. The most extreme example: BTO's "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" went from No. 1 to No. 12 to No. 34 and back to No. 8 in consecutive weeks.
No. 32: Cyndi Grecco, "Makin' Our Dreams Come True," otherwise known as the Theme to "Laverne and Shirley."
This one still sounds great, even with a sax solo and a key change stuck in to embiggen it to single-length.
The rhythmic switch behind the words "There ain't nothin' we won't try / Never heard the word 'impossible' " is the single best (and subtlest) use of the baion since Phil Spector.
Casey makes a tease he must have been dreaming of since 1970: Coming up, the return of the Beatles!
No. 31: "Let Her In," John Travolta. See comment on No. 37.
No. 30: "Today's the Day," America. With a bit of gravel in the grammar: "You're the most brightest star that lights my way."
No. 29, debut: The Beatles, "Got To Get You Into My Life." I forget why they saw fit to release McCartney's ode to marijuana as a single 10 years after the fact.
But they did, and the people of this great country still had enough taste left to make it a substantial hit.
After the song, Casey says with an almost visible gleam in his eye: "Can you believe it? The Beatles and the Beach Boys back on the chart in the same week?"
Bless ya, Case -- this is your reward for all those weeks you had to put up with "Seasons in the Sun" and "The Lord's Prayer" and "I'd Like To Teach The World To Sing."
No. 28: "That's Where the Happy People Go," the Trammps.
What makes the Trammps not one-hit wonders? Well, this.
Kind of the same chugging drum rhythm as "Disco Inferno," and of course the lead singer has the same readily identifiable timbre.
This is not as good as "Inferno," but it does have a marvelous refrain: "The disco / That's where the happy people go."
(What did you expect? Burger King?)
No. 27: "You're My Best Friend," Queen.
No. 26: "Get Closer," Seals and Crofts. Casey announces this is one of five duos on the charts this week ... so when the female voice comes in, my wife asks hesitantly: "So Seals was the woman, and Crofts was the man?"
No, dear ... Casey is misleading you; this is really more like a trio, albeit uncredited.
I somewhat enjoy this song, though it has its shortcomings -- for instance, the second verse just sort of arrives.
No. 25: "Boogie Fever," the Sylvers.
No. 24: "Welcome Back," John Sebastian. Two former No. Ones, back to back at 24 and 25.
I like this one better.
In fact, I would probably vote for this as the best TV-theme-turned-hit-single of all time, even if its cheerful, ambling folkie groove in no way conjures up the gritty Brooklyn milieu of Gabe Kotter and the Sweathogs.
Unlike other TV themes, this one doesn't sound like it was artificially lengthened -- there's no forced key change that reminds you that you usually hear a compressed 30-second version.
No. 23: "Rhiannon," Fleetwood Mac.
Yeah. I bolded a Fleetwood Mac song. Bite me.
I happen to like the groove on this song -- the electric piano and the Mac rhythm section (who have always tended toward the marvelously subtle) create a good atmosphere for Stevie Nicks' tales of bedknobs and broomsticks.
No. 22: "The Boys are Back In Town," Thin Lizzy. I never cared much for this; they can sell it to as many lad-movies and beer commercials as they want.
No. 21: "Fool to Cry," Rolling Stones.
I said to my wife, "There's a reason the classic-rock stations play 'Miss You' twice an hour but will never play this."
Maybe it's the way Bill Wyman's bass burps unbecomingly up in the mix, or maybe it's the limp, watery guitar playing.
I still insist that "Moonlight Mile" and "Beast of Burden" are the only two ballads that this bunch have ever really nailed.
(Edit: As reader Johnny B. points out in the comments, I may be stretching things a bit to class "Beast of Burden" as a ballad. Could be.)
No. 20: "Keep Your Eye on the Sparrow," Rhythm Heritage. Otherwise known as the theme from "Baretta," a show I don't think I've ever seen all the way through.
The third TV theme in this week's countdown.
No. 19: "Take the Money and Run," Steve Miller Band.
No. 18: "Moonlight Feels Right," Starbuck. Yacht-rock (literally) at its finest. Who wouldn't want to luxuriate in synth swizzles and a vibraphone solo in between banging some recently graduated Southern co-ed on a boat in Chesapeake Bay?
Scoff that, Jimmy Buffett.
No. 17: "Never Gonna Fall In Love Again," Eric Carmen.
I have all sorts of love for Eric, but really, this is way too Manilowish.
No. 16: "I Want You," Marvin Gaye. Maybe the first Marvin Gaye song I genuinely like, even if it is a little unbalanced: It kinda stays in one place for a minute, and then the chord changes start going by at, like, two per measure.
No. 15: "Movin'," the Brass Construction. Nice Bernie Worrell-ish synth playing. I kinda gently lukewarmly like it.
No. 14: "Takin' It To The Streets," the Doobie Brothers. I hate corporate rock'n'roll bands that sing about "the streets."
No. 13: Gary Wright, "Love Is Alive." Was this guy the Howard Jones of the '70s -- kind of a one-man show surrounded by keyboards?
This one's better than "Dream Weaver." In fact I almost bolded it. But not quite.
No. 12: "Kiss and Say Goodbye," the Manhattans. Starts with a spoken-word voice-over, and if you've been paying attention, you know what the house rule on those is.
No. 11: Pratt and McClain, "Happy Days." Yup, the fourth TV theme on this week's countdown.
I haven't seen an episode of "Happy Days" in donkey's years, though I sure used to see a lot of it growing up.
Wonder what Tom Bosley's up to now ... and Erin Moran?
Oh, yeah, the song ... the song is forgettable.
Casey plays a damn fine AT40 Extra: BB King's "The Thrill Is Gone" from 1969. This blows that Pratt and McClain stuff right out the door.
No. 10: "I'll Be Good To You," the Brothers Johnson. Mellow ballad, and absolutely nothing like you'd imagine the record sounded like if you only saw the single sleeve.
No. 9, up from 33 two weeks ago and No. 25 last week, and on its way to Number One: "Afternoon Delight," Starland Vocal Band.
Wonder if the guy and his Mississippi-born chick on the boat in Chesapeake Bay had this playing on their AM transistor radio while they, uh, hiked the Appalachian Trail?
No. 8: "More, More, More," the Andrea True Connection. We don't get enough porn stars scoring Top 40 hits any more.
This is pretty sloppy if you listen -- there's a trumpet player who can't quite get to what's written, and an unfunky drum drop that happens at the absolutely most noticeable and distracting spot.
(Did they hire Dennis Wilson?)
No. 7: "Shop Around," Captain and Tennille. Gotta have a cheesy cover every week and this one's it; worse even than the one at No. 40.
No. 6: "Shannon," Henry Gross. Didn't listen. Isn't this the one about a dog that drowns or something?
Hey, I didn't watch "Marley and Me" either.
No. 5: "Sara Smile," Hall and Oates. Not their best tune but Daryl Hall's voice is always a pleasure.
No. 4: "Love Hangover," Diana Ross.
Yet another song with a flaw I find endlessly annoying:
When Miss Ross yells "Hang-o-ver!" at that point when the tempo speeds up, is it just me, or is she at least half a tone flat?
I bet the lust-crazed, sunscreen-streaked couple on the yacht liked it when this one came on too.
No. 3: "Misty Blue," Dorothy Moore. I didn't listen to it, and in fact, I can't find the melody in my head -- I keep trying to think of it but I keep coming up with "Moody Blue" instead.
No matter; we're almost done.
No. 2: "Get Up and Boogie," Silver Convention. No idea why this one got any higher than, say, No. 22.
No. 1 for, I think, the fourth non-consecutive week: "Silly Love Songs," Wings.
This song is an absolute triumph for McCartney -- the moment where he packaged his entire philosophy into one perfect, catchy, not-a-note-or-instrument-out-of-place arrangement.
(Also, rather than combining song fragments into one tune, he actually bothered to sit down and write himself a whole song. It paid off.)
I can still hear it coming over the radio (AM-only, natch) in my parents' big Plymouth Satellite on long car trips.
I wonder what John Lennon thought when this came over his radio in the Dakota.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Because the world clamors to know my thoughts about Michael Jackson.
When I think of Michael Jackson, I will think of that moment at the very end of "I Want You Back" when he gets to the phrase "I was blind to let you go," and lands on the last word and suddenly and unpredictably (but with complete vocal control) rockets upward -- "go-o-o-O-OH" -- and sticks it, and then catches a quick breath and comes down for the next line.
It's right before the fade, and it comes and goes in a second, and it's one of those spine-tingling Perfect Pop Moments.
And that's what I'll think of when I think of Michael Jackson.
I was never a huge fan myself -- I thought he was OK, but I never owned any of his albums, and never had any particularly deep personal memories or experiences related to his music.
I've been struck, though, at the outpouring of positive memories from people my age on Facebook.
From the woman whose first concert was a Jacksons Victory Tour show, to the woman who learned how to moonwalk on a hardwood floor covered in baby powder, all kinds of people seem to remember the man fondly.
(There is one FB friend of mine who views MJ as a child molester and publicly claims to be surprised that people are worked up over his death. No one has flamed her yet, but she seems very much in the minority.)
Makes me wonder whether MJ had one good comeback left in him -- whether he could have found a way to tap that residual goodwill.
It would have been tough:
He couldn't have made fun of his image, like William Shatner, b/c shadowy accusations of child molestation (real or perceived) don't really lend themselves to self-parody.
And of course, his every public appearance only served to remind everyone how grotesquely different he'd become since he first captured our imaginations.
But if he could have cleared away at least a little of the nonsense, and gotten back on stage and delivered the music, and the moves ... who knows?
Sure, he was plenty strange ... but, once he reached adulthood, he had never been "normal" in any kind of Huey Lewis guy-next-door way.
Even when America loved him, he was a quirky eccentric in flood-length pants, white socks and that curious sequined glove.
Maybe he could have found another way to package himself that would once again have caught the masses' fancy.
(I don't buy the reports that he sold out 50 shows in London -- that reeks of hype to me -- but clearly there was *some* demand to see him. And maybe, just maybe, those shows might have helped re-launch him. But we'll never know.)
It's right before the fade, and it comes and goes in a second, and it's one of those spine-tingling Perfect Pop Moments.
And that's what I'll think of when I think of Michael Jackson.
I was never a huge fan myself -- I thought he was OK, but I never owned any of his albums, and never had any particularly deep personal memories or experiences related to his music.
I've been struck, though, at the outpouring of positive memories from people my age on Facebook.
From the woman whose first concert was a Jacksons Victory Tour show, to the woman who learned how to moonwalk on a hardwood floor covered in baby powder, all kinds of people seem to remember the man fondly.
(There is one FB friend of mine who views MJ as a child molester and publicly claims to be surprised that people are worked up over his death. No one has flamed her yet, but she seems very much in the minority.)
Makes me wonder whether MJ had one good comeback left in him -- whether he could have found a way to tap that residual goodwill.
It would have been tough:
He couldn't have made fun of his image, like William Shatner, b/c shadowy accusations of child molestation (real or perceived) don't really lend themselves to self-parody.
And of course, his every public appearance only served to remind everyone how grotesquely different he'd become since he first captured our imaginations.
But if he could have cleared away at least a little of the nonsense, and gotten back on stage and delivered the music, and the moves ... who knows?
Sure, he was plenty strange ... but, once he reached adulthood, he had never been "normal" in any kind of Huey Lewis guy-next-door way.
Even when America loved him, he was a quirky eccentric in flood-length pants, white socks and that curious sequined glove.
Maybe he could have found another way to package himself that would once again have caught the masses' fancy.
(I don't buy the reports that he sold out 50 shows in London -- that reeks of hype to me -- but clearly there was *some* demand to see him. And maybe, just maybe, those shows might have helped re-launch him. But we'll never know.)
Monday, June 22, 2009
Framed.
Here's one o' them high-concept Web sites:
Sum up a movie using only four frames from the movie.
I'm not sure it really works all that well, but then again, I don't watch that many movies, so maybe you cinema buffs can speak more authoritatively.
Sum up a movie using only four frames from the movie.
I'm not sure it really works all that well, but then again, I don't watch that many movies, so maybe you cinema buffs can speak more authoritatively.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
International feel.
I was watching soccer on ESPN today -- the qualifying tournament for the World Cup, whatever that's called.
I was watching Spain vs. South Africa for a while, which was a good game ... but then I heard that Iraq vs New Zealand was on ESPN2.
So I went there posthaste and watched the rest of the game.
How often do you see a sporting event featuring Iraq or New Zealand?
Never mind seeing the two countries directly playing one another.
It was like watching a fight between two unusual animals -- like watching a snapping turtle and a groundhog go at it -- a spectacle you watch not b/c you care about the outcome, but just b/c you've never seen it before.
The game was lousy -- really sloppy; both teams played at the level of U.S. Division II college soccer.
And of course it was an 0-0 tie.
(Not that I mind that; if you don't like 0-0 ties, you don't watch soccer very long.)
It was an interesting spectacle, if not a particularly edifying one.
I'll probably tune in tomorrow for Brazil vs Italy, which of course should be a game so well-played that it will make me wonder whether I was really watching soccer today.
I was watching Spain vs. South Africa for a while, which was a good game ... but then I heard that Iraq vs New Zealand was on ESPN2.
So I went there posthaste and watched the rest of the game.
How often do you see a sporting event featuring Iraq or New Zealand?
Never mind seeing the two countries directly playing one another.
It was like watching a fight between two unusual animals -- like watching a snapping turtle and a groundhog go at it -- a spectacle you watch not b/c you care about the outcome, but just b/c you've never seen it before.
The game was lousy -- really sloppy; both teams played at the level of U.S. Division II college soccer.
And of course it was an 0-0 tie.
(Not that I mind that; if you don't like 0-0 ties, you don't watch soccer very long.)
It was an interesting spectacle, if not a particularly edifying one.
I'll probably tune in tomorrow for Brazil vs Italy, which of course should be a game so well-played that it will make me wonder whether I was really watching soccer today.
June 8, 1974: We could stay inside and play games, I don't know.
(Before we get to the meat and potatoes of today's post, one note: According to blogger.com, this is post #800. Thanks to everyone who's suffered through the first 799. That means you, JB.)
This week's AT40 countdown started on a really low note (we'll explain in a minute) but got better. It has more bold-faced favourites than most countdowns I blog about, even if some of 'em are kinda sentimental picks.
So here we go -- the top 40 songs in the land for the week ending June 8, 1974.
No. 40, debut: "Sideshow," Blue Magic. This circus-themed song begins with the traditional circus fanfare and a voice chanting "STEP RIGHT UP!," which is a pretty goddamn weak way to start an AT40 countdown.
As for the rest of the song, can't listen -- clown will eat me.
This was Blue Magic's first hit.
Just a few months later, the soul vocal group from Philadelphia would be called on by the Rolling Stones to provide vocal backups for a song on the "It's Only Rock n' Roll" album.
Dunno what brought Blue Magic to Mick and Keef's attention ... but I sure hope it wasn't this.
No. 39, debut: "No Charge," Melba Montgomery. A former country No. 1, which is also a bad, bad sign.
I'm coining a new Kinky Paprika rule: Any song that begins with a spoken-word voiceover, and is not performed by Barry White, is sucksville.
Wiki says this cornball semi-recitation about all the things mothers do for us peaked at No. 39 on the pop charts, so this might have been its first and only week.
Oh, sure -- this song pops up once, and I get to hear it.
No, 38, debut: "Rikki Don't Lose That Number," Steely Dan. Donald Fagen has a fucking awesome voice, and if you disagree, go read somebody cooler's blog.
Casey introduces the record as "Steely Dan, from Los Angeles" -- which was true at the time but somewhat laughable, since Becker and Fagen were quintessential New Yorkers who were only press-ganged into living in LA by the need to make it big in the record business.
According to Wiki, this peaked at #4 and was the Dan's highest-charting record.
It must be said: The first three songs on this AT40 represent the surprising openness of top 40 radio in those days. We have a slow vocal-group soul song, a C&W weeper, and the odd jazzy inflections of the Dan, all within 10 minutes of each other.
That ain't bad for eclecticism. D'ya think today's hit radio stations play that kind of variety?
Before No. 37, Casey answered a reader's question that involved the week's obligatory Beatles name-drop.
No. 37, debut: "If You Wanna Get To Heaven," Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Stiff boogie. This is a minor-league party song; a grade-B party song; the Hydrox of party songs (something like "We're An American Band" would be the Oreo of party songs.)
No. 36: "The Payback," James Brown. He's got soul; he's super bad.
No. 35: "The Air That I Breathe," The Hollies. I blogged a few months ago about really liking some of the Hollies' Sixties Britpop songs, and I think if I looked deeper into the Hollies I could get to like them.
Casey introduces the record as being by a band that's been together 10 years and came over in the first wave of the British invasion.
I hoped against hope that the Kinks had scraped out some forgotten hit -- though I knew well that in '74, the Kinks were probably playing the "Preservation" song cycle to half-full college gyms.
No. 34: In its 18th week on the charts, "Come and Get Your Love," Redbone.
I like the way this song struts -- it sounds like it could have been the product of the same New Orleans funkmeisters who waxed "Lady Marmalade," even though it wasn't.
I could live without the lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala's at the end.
But what the hell -- you can't really hold what a band does on the fade against it; otherwise the Beatles get serious demerits for how-the-hell-do-we-finish-this? songs like "Magical Mystery Tour."
No. 33: This countdown has a weird addition I've not heard in other AT40s: Gently funky background music playing under Casey's voice as he introduces each record.
Not sure I like it -- it makes you think you're hearing the song you're about to hear, and of course, you aren't.
Anyway: "Mighty Mighty," Earth Wind & Fire. Acceptably funky but stays way too long on one chord.
No. 32: "Another Park, Another Sunday," the Doobie Brothers. Never been a huge fan of Tom Johnston's voice.
According to Wiki, it was the song on the B side of this single -- "Black Water" -- that would go on to become the Doobies' first No. 1 hit.
Why anyone would put "Black Water" on the B-side and this on the A is beyond me.
No. 31: Something by Eddie Kendricks. Missed the title. More acceptable funk.
I think it might have been "Son of Sagittarius," which I regret not hearing, b/c it sounds like a real time capsule.
Ah well.
No. 30, debut: "I'm Coming Home," the Spinners. The Spinners were kings of the silky groove-ride.
Philippe Wynne's voice is da bomb. He shoulda done a debut with Fagen.
(Actually, I'd love to hear Donald Fagen record an entire album of duets, Sinatra-stylee. Seriously.)
Produced by Thom Bell. Where? Philadelphia.
No. 29: "On and On," Gladys Knight and the Pips. See my comment on No. 31 of this post.
My wife: "I can skip ahead if you want."
Me: "Naw, I'm waiting to see when they're going to change to another chord."
My wife: "They go on and on."
No. 28: "One Hell of a Woman," Mac Davis. Mac slips into his best Tom Jones voice and elucidates a thorough list of female archetypes -- she's a lady, she's a kitten, she's a witch, she's a baby, she's warm and tender.
(Presumably Meredith Brooks, or the people who wrote "Bitch" for her, were listening closely.)
I can't seem to find a good video of Mac singing it, but check out this Tonight Show video in which Vikki Carr takes it on in the first person.
No. 27: "T.S.O.P.," MFSB. Philly International serves up the theme to "Soul Train."
Any song that makes me think of groovily dressed people dancing in the "Soul Train" line, or whatever they called it, is fine with me.
No. 26: "Bennie and the Jets," Elton John. I love the pure weirdness of this record, starting with the deliberately fake, tinny-sounding "live" ambience.
(Was any listener ever fooled into thinking this was actually recorded before a live audience?)
This is one of several records on the chart ("Rikki" is another) that make you wonder what the hell they're about -- not in a deliberately provocative "Angie Baby" sort of way, but just in the matter-of-fact way they go about their business.
And yeah, I know, this song is about some sort of mythical glam-rock band. But whaddya think motivated Elton and Bernie Taupin to produce a weird, tinny record about a mythical glam-rock band?
No. 25: "Just Don't Want to Be Lonely," the Main Ingredient. Starts with a spoken-word voiceover. See Nos. 40 and 39.
No. 24: "Save the Last Dance for Me," the DeFranco Family.
When I was a boy and visiting the science museum in Toronto, I found a hockey card on the floor.
It was partially in French, and it was cool and exotic, and I've still got it.
Just like Canadian sports cards, Canadian bubblegum pop has its own flavour -- it's familiar but just a little bit different.
This is not a bad bubblegum single at all.
No. 23: "I've Been Searchin' So Long," Chicago. This bold-face is based entirely on my fondness for '70s Chicago; this is not one of their best songs.
It's too bad the American public decided it loved Peter Cetera's voice best; I've always had a man-crush on Robert Lamm.
No. 22: "Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing," Stevie Wonder.
The beginning of this sounds like some guy in East L.A. hassling a meter maid over a parking ticket.
Only Stevie could start from there and create an irresistible, soulful pop single.
No. 21: "Haven't Got Time for the Pain," Carly Simon.
Casey loves to introduce Carly Simon records by pointing out how tough it can be for performers who come from affluent backgrounds -- that it's not just the po' folks who feel the pain.
I am not sure whether:
* Casey told and re-told the same anecdotes week after week;
* These rebroadcast AT40s are cut-and-pasted together, with Casey chatter from other weeks inserted to replace anecdotes deemed unworthy of repeating.
(Theoretically something like, "Clearasil doesn't have time for acne, and Carly Simon doesn't have time for the pain! Here she is at No. 21.")
* I'm actually hearing the same two countdowns over and over and over again.
No. 20: "You Won't See Me," Anne Murray. Nice of her to rescue a charming Beatles album track from comparative obscurity.
That being said, I won't listen to it.
No. 19: Two chicks, two covers. "I'm In Love," Aretha Franklin, covering an old Wilson Pickett semi-hit.
Mmmmmmm, Aretha.
This song isn't perfect -- in particular, there are some upper-register screechy sections toward the end that detract from the vibe.
But hey, not every glass of Jack Daniels on the rocks opens the glowing door to heaven; but it's still Jack Daniels on the rocks.
No. 18: "I Won't Last A Day Without You," the Carpenters.
Since we were just talking about Beatles covers, you might enjoy the Carps kickin' flavor on "Ticket to Ride."
No. 17: "Hollywood Swinging," Kool and the Gang. Wonder who had more Top 40 hits in the '70s -- Kool or EW&F?
They both show up a lot in these countdowns.
I'm guessing EW&F was bigger in the '70s, but Kool and the Gang soared ahead with all those bland songs in the early '80s (like "Fresh" and "Joanna.")
No. 16: "The Show Must Go On," Three Dog Night. Again with the circus sound effects!
I've ranted before about the annoyance of having two religious-themed songs in one countdown, but two circus-themed songs in one countdown is a fate worse than being cut in two by a homicidal magician.
I'm just thankful that "Send In The Clowns" wasn't a hit this week too.
No. 15: "If You Love Me," Olivia Newton-John.
Somewhere in Graceland, Elvis was stirring himself, turning on the radio and mumbling, "Gotta cover that song."
The TCB Band played it with so much more of a laid-back snap than the guys on Olivia's record did.
No. 14: "The Loco-Motion," Grand Funk.
There's no mystery as to what this song is about; but it makes up for its lack of lyrical ambiguity with some sonic weirdness.
Seriously -- listen to that backing track.
It's weird and metallic and rubbery all at once, and it doesn't really sound like the bass, guitar and keyboards you hear on other songs on the 40.
And Mark Farner's guitar solo is a classic, woefully underrecognized piece of weird sound processing.
What is that effect (or effects -- there's surely more than one being applied)?
All told, a victory not just for Grand Funk, but also for their producer -- longtime Kinky Paprika favourite Todd Rundgren.
No. 13: "Oh Very Young," Cat Stevens. Oh very shite.
No. 12: "My Girl Bill," Jim Stafford.
There will be two novelty/joke records in the Top 12. Neither will be very good. This is the first.
No. 11: "Be Thankful for What You Got," William DeVaughn.
I wondered why I liked this song so much, and then I found out from Wiki:
It was recorded at Sigma Sound in Philadelphia, using several of the same musicians who made other Philly records so irresistible during the '70s.
Also learned that DeVaughn later moved in a gospel/religious direction, which explains why I've never heard anything else he ever sang.
No. 10: "For the Love of Money," the O'Jays. Did I mention that Philafuckingdelphia is all up in this countdown?
This is a tight, nasty, funky, knife-edged soul song, and the fact that they later used it to sell Corollas or whatever does not detract from its brilliance.
Wikipedia sez: "Another successful cover of the song was done by Todd Rundgren with his rock band Utopia on their 1982 album 'Swing To the Right.' "
Much as I love Rundgren, I'm gonna have to wait to hear that one for myself before I pronounce it "successful."
No. 9: "Midnight at the Oasis," Maria Muldaur. Yeah, I like this song.
I like Muldaur's playful warble, and I especially like the snaky, deceptively difficult guitar solo that made guitarist Amos Garrett a cult hero among studio players.
(Check out the description on this to see just how much of a meal ticket "Midnight at the Oasis" is for the guy.)
No. 8: "The Entertainer," Marvin Hamlisch. Do you think the kids today would tolerate a ragtime instrumental in their Top 10?
Just another indication that Top 40 radio was more eclectic than one might think, back in the day.
No. 7: "Help Me," Joni Mitchell. I've mentioned before that I listened to "Court and Spark" almost literally every night while doing homework my senior year of high school.
I prefer "Free Man in Paris" to this one, but this one ain't bad. It brings back the sound, and the memories.
No. 6: "Billy Don't Be A Hero," Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods. No idea why people liked this.
I wonder what the band members are doing now:
D'ya think they go around bragging about having played bass in Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods?
I can't imagine that boast carries much street cred ... indeed, I'm not even sure it did in June of 1974.
Incidentally, I just thought I'd mention that the Grateful Dead played a fabulous concert at Oakland Coliseum on June 8, 1974, including a weird, primal, dissonant jam that has become the stuff of Dead legend. Of course, there was no Dead on this week's AT40.
No. 5: "Sundown," Gordon Lightfoot. This bold-face rating is based entirely on the deep, sonorous, tobacco-cured depths of Lightfoot's voice, which instill in me a man-crush rivaled only by Robert Lamm.
This song strikes more of a nerve (to me, anyway) than his other hits -- he genuinely sounds like a guy caught in a turbulent relationship who doesn't want to be in it but can't get out of it.
(If Wikipedia is to be believed, that was pretty much the case. Maybe that's why it sounds so real.)
Also of note: If I understood Casey correctly (and a quick recount seems to confirm this), there are as many Canadian acts on this week's countdown as there are British performers.
How often has that happened?
No. 4: "Dancing Machine," Jax 5. Has more flash than their early singles but very little of the charm. Guess that comes with growing up.
No. 3: Following another Beatles namedrop, "You Make Me Feel Brand New," the Stylistics.
Oh, you'll never guess which American city the Stylistics happened to hail from?
(Hint: Start in Bala Cynwyd and head east.)
No. 2: "The Streak," Ray Stevens.
And, brand-new at No. 1: "Band on the Run," Paul McCartney and Wings.
McCartney in those days loved to stick two or three song-fragments together and try to stitch up a linkage between them.
On "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey," it really didn't work.
On this one, it does.
Here's another song that makes you wonder what the hell it's about.
Of course, knowing McCartney, it doesn't have to be about anything -- he has the gift of taking an evocative phrase and building something on it that works well enough to pass by the listener without conscious questioning.
(What the hell was "Uncle Albert" about, for that matter? Or "Coming Up"?)
I'm sure "Band on the Run" was some concept he dreamed up when he went to Lagos, Nigeria, to record, and he built a song around it.
Incidentally, at the same time the song was ascending to No. 1, the "Band on the Run" album rose to No. 1 on the album charts. Nice sweep.
This week's AT40 countdown started on a really low note (we'll explain in a minute) but got better. It has more bold-faced favourites than most countdowns I blog about, even if some of 'em are kinda sentimental picks.
So here we go -- the top 40 songs in the land for the week ending June 8, 1974.
No. 40, debut: "Sideshow," Blue Magic. This circus-themed song begins with the traditional circus fanfare and a voice chanting "STEP RIGHT UP!," which is a pretty goddamn weak way to start an AT40 countdown.
As for the rest of the song, can't listen -- clown will eat me.
This was Blue Magic's first hit.
Just a few months later, the soul vocal group from Philadelphia would be called on by the Rolling Stones to provide vocal backups for a song on the "It's Only Rock n' Roll" album.
Dunno what brought Blue Magic to Mick and Keef's attention ... but I sure hope it wasn't this.
No. 39, debut: "No Charge," Melba Montgomery. A former country No. 1, which is also a bad, bad sign.
I'm coining a new Kinky Paprika rule: Any song that begins with a spoken-word voiceover, and is not performed by Barry White, is sucksville.
Wiki says this cornball semi-recitation about all the things mothers do for us peaked at No. 39 on the pop charts, so this might have been its first and only week.
Oh, sure -- this song pops up once, and I get to hear it.
No, 38, debut: "Rikki Don't Lose That Number," Steely Dan. Donald Fagen has a fucking awesome voice, and if you disagree, go read somebody cooler's blog.
Casey introduces the record as "Steely Dan, from Los Angeles" -- which was true at the time but somewhat laughable, since Becker and Fagen were quintessential New Yorkers who were only press-ganged into living in LA by the need to make it big in the record business.
According to Wiki, this peaked at #4 and was the Dan's highest-charting record.
It must be said: The first three songs on this AT40 represent the surprising openness of top 40 radio in those days. We have a slow vocal-group soul song, a C&W weeper, and the odd jazzy inflections of the Dan, all within 10 minutes of each other.
That ain't bad for eclecticism. D'ya think today's hit radio stations play that kind of variety?
Before No. 37, Casey answered a reader's question that involved the week's obligatory Beatles name-drop.
No. 37, debut: "If You Wanna Get To Heaven," Ozark Mountain Daredevils. Stiff boogie. This is a minor-league party song; a grade-B party song; the Hydrox of party songs (something like "We're An American Band" would be the Oreo of party songs.)
No. 36: "The Payback," James Brown. He's got soul; he's super bad.
No. 35: "The Air That I Breathe," The Hollies. I blogged a few months ago about really liking some of the Hollies' Sixties Britpop songs, and I think if I looked deeper into the Hollies I could get to like them.
Casey introduces the record as being by a band that's been together 10 years and came over in the first wave of the British invasion.
I hoped against hope that the Kinks had scraped out some forgotten hit -- though I knew well that in '74, the Kinks were probably playing the "Preservation" song cycle to half-full college gyms.
No. 34: In its 18th week on the charts, "Come and Get Your Love," Redbone.
I like the way this song struts -- it sounds like it could have been the product of the same New Orleans funkmeisters who waxed "Lady Marmalade," even though it wasn't.
I could live without the lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala's at the end.
But what the hell -- you can't really hold what a band does on the fade against it; otherwise the Beatles get serious demerits for how-the-hell-do-we-finish-this? songs like "Magical Mystery Tour."
No. 33: This countdown has a weird addition I've not heard in other AT40s: Gently funky background music playing under Casey's voice as he introduces each record.
Not sure I like it -- it makes you think you're hearing the song you're about to hear, and of course, you aren't.
Anyway: "Mighty Mighty," Earth Wind & Fire. Acceptably funky but stays way too long on one chord.
No. 32: "Another Park, Another Sunday," the Doobie Brothers. Never been a huge fan of Tom Johnston's voice.
According to Wiki, it was the song on the B side of this single -- "Black Water" -- that would go on to become the Doobies' first No. 1 hit.
Why anyone would put "Black Water" on the B-side and this on the A is beyond me.
No. 31: Something by Eddie Kendricks. Missed the title. More acceptable funk.
I think it might have been "Son of Sagittarius," which I regret not hearing, b/c it sounds like a real time capsule.
Ah well.
No. 30, debut: "I'm Coming Home," the Spinners. The Spinners were kings of the silky groove-ride.
Philippe Wynne's voice is da bomb. He shoulda done a debut with Fagen.
(Actually, I'd love to hear Donald Fagen record an entire album of duets, Sinatra-stylee. Seriously.)
Produced by Thom Bell. Where? Philadelphia.
No. 29: "On and On," Gladys Knight and the Pips. See my comment on No. 31 of this post.
My wife: "I can skip ahead if you want."
Me: "Naw, I'm waiting to see when they're going to change to another chord."
My wife: "They go on and on."
No. 28: "One Hell of a Woman," Mac Davis. Mac slips into his best Tom Jones voice and elucidates a thorough list of female archetypes -- she's a lady, she's a kitten, she's a witch, she's a baby, she's warm and tender.
(Presumably Meredith Brooks, or the people who wrote "Bitch" for her, were listening closely.)
I can't seem to find a good video of Mac singing it, but check out this Tonight Show video in which Vikki Carr takes it on in the first person.
No. 27: "T.S.O.P.," MFSB. Philly International serves up the theme to "Soul Train."
Any song that makes me think of groovily dressed people dancing in the "Soul Train" line, or whatever they called it, is fine with me.
No. 26: "Bennie and the Jets," Elton John. I love the pure weirdness of this record, starting with the deliberately fake, tinny-sounding "live" ambience.
(Was any listener ever fooled into thinking this was actually recorded before a live audience?)
This is one of several records on the chart ("Rikki" is another) that make you wonder what the hell they're about -- not in a deliberately provocative "Angie Baby" sort of way, but just in the matter-of-fact way they go about their business.
And yeah, I know, this song is about some sort of mythical glam-rock band. But whaddya think motivated Elton and Bernie Taupin to produce a weird, tinny record about a mythical glam-rock band?
No. 25: "Just Don't Want to Be Lonely," the Main Ingredient. Starts with a spoken-word voiceover. See Nos. 40 and 39.
No. 24: "Save the Last Dance for Me," the DeFranco Family.
When I was a boy and visiting the science museum in Toronto, I found a hockey card on the floor.
It was partially in French, and it was cool and exotic, and I've still got it.
Just like Canadian sports cards, Canadian bubblegum pop has its own flavour -- it's familiar but just a little bit different.
This is not a bad bubblegum single at all.
No. 23: "I've Been Searchin' So Long," Chicago. This bold-face is based entirely on my fondness for '70s Chicago; this is not one of their best songs.
It's too bad the American public decided it loved Peter Cetera's voice best; I've always had a man-crush on Robert Lamm.
No. 22: "Don't You Worry 'Bout A Thing," Stevie Wonder.
The beginning of this sounds like some guy in East L.A. hassling a meter maid over a parking ticket.
Only Stevie could start from there and create an irresistible, soulful pop single.
No. 21: "Haven't Got Time for the Pain," Carly Simon.
Casey loves to introduce Carly Simon records by pointing out how tough it can be for performers who come from affluent backgrounds -- that it's not just the po' folks who feel the pain.
I am not sure whether:
* Casey told and re-told the same anecdotes week after week;
* These rebroadcast AT40s are cut-and-pasted together, with Casey chatter from other weeks inserted to replace anecdotes deemed unworthy of repeating.
(Theoretically something like, "Clearasil doesn't have time for acne, and Carly Simon doesn't have time for the pain! Here she is at No. 21.")
* I'm actually hearing the same two countdowns over and over and over again.
No. 20: "You Won't See Me," Anne Murray. Nice of her to rescue a charming Beatles album track from comparative obscurity.
That being said, I won't listen to it.
No. 19: Two chicks, two covers. "I'm In Love," Aretha Franklin, covering an old Wilson Pickett semi-hit.
Mmmmmmm, Aretha.
This song isn't perfect -- in particular, there are some upper-register screechy sections toward the end that detract from the vibe.
But hey, not every glass of Jack Daniels on the rocks opens the glowing door to heaven; but it's still Jack Daniels on the rocks.
No. 18: "I Won't Last A Day Without You," the Carpenters.
Since we were just talking about Beatles covers, you might enjoy the Carps kickin' flavor on "Ticket to Ride."
No. 17: "Hollywood Swinging," Kool and the Gang. Wonder who had more Top 40 hits in the '70s -- Kool or EW&F?
They both show up a lot in these countdowns.
I'm guessing EW&F was bigger in the '70s, but Kool and the Gang soared ahead with all those bland songs in the early '80s (like "Fresh" and "Joanna.")
No. 16: "The Show Must Go On," Three Dog Night. Again with the circus sound effects!
I've ranted before about the annoyance of having two religious-themed songs in one countdown, but two circus-themed songs in one countdown is a fate worse than being cut in two by a homicidal magician.
I'm just thankful that "Send In The Clowns" wasn't a hit this week too.
No. 15: "If You Love Me," Olivia Newton-John.
Somewhere in Graceland, Elvis was stirring himself, turning on the radio and mumbling, "Gotta cover that song."
The TCB Band played it with so much more of a laid-back snap than the guys on Olivia's record did.
No. 14: "The Loco-Motion," Grand Funk.
There's no mystery as to what this song is about; but it makes up for its lack of lyrical ambiguity with some sonic weirdness.
Seriously -- listen to that backing track.
It's weird and metallic and rubbery all at once, and it doesn't really sound like the bass, guitar and keyboards you hear on other songs on the 40.
And Mark Farner's guitar solo is a classic, woefully underrecognized piece of weird sound processing.
What is that effect (or effects -- there's surely more than one being applied)?
All told, a victory not just for Grand Funk, but also for their producer -- longtime Kinky Paprika favourite Todd Rundgren.
No. 13: "Oh Very Young," Cat Stevens. Oh very shite.
No. 12: "My Girl Bill," Jim Stafford.
There will be two novelty/joke records in the Top 12. Neither will be very good. This is the first.
No. 11: "Be Thankful for What You Got," William DeVaughn.
I wondered why I liked this song so much, and then I found out from Wiki:
It was recorded at Sigma Sound in Philadelphia, using several of the same musicians who made other Philly records so irresistible during the '70s.
Also learned that DeVaughn later moved in a gospel/religious direction, which explains why I've never heard anything else he ever sang.
No. 10: "For the Love of Money," the O'Jays. Did I mention that Philafuckingdelphia is all up in this countdown?
This is a tight, nasty, funky, knife-edged soul song, and the fact that they later used it to sell Corollas or whatever does not detract from its brilliance.
Wikipedia sez: "Another successful cover of the song was done by Todd Rundgren with his rock band Utopia on their 1982 album 'Swing To the Right.' "
Much as I love Rundgren, I'm gonna have to wait to hear that one for myself before I pronounce it "successful."
No. 9: "Midnight at the Oasis," Maria Muldaur. Yeah, I like this song.
I like Muldaur's playful warble, and I especially like the snaky, deceptively difficult guitar solo that made guitarist Amos Garrett a cult hero among studio players.
(Check out the description on this to see just how much of a meal ticket "Midnight at the Oasis" is for the guy.)
No. 8: "The Entertainer," Marvin Hamlisch. Do you think the kids today would tolerate a ragtime instrumental in their Top 10?
Just another indication that Top 40 radio was more eclectic than one might think, back in the day.
No. 7: "Help Me," Joni Mitchell. I've mentioned before that I listened to "Court and Spark" almost literally every night while doing homework my senior year of high school.
I prefer "Free Man in Paris" to this one, but this one ain't bad. It brings back the sound, and the memories.
No. 6: "Billy Don't Be A Hero," Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods. No idea why people liked this.
I wonder what the band members are doing now:
D'ya think they go around bragging about having played bass in Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods?
I can't imagine that boast carries much street cred ... indeed, I'm not even sure it did in June of 1974.
Incidentally, I just thought I'd mention that the Grateful Dead played a fabulous concert at Oakland Coliseum on June 8, 1974, including a weird, primal, dissonant jam that has become the stuff of Dead legend. Of course, there was no Dead on this week's AT40.
No. 5: "Sundown," Gordon Lightfoot. This bold-face rating is based entirely on the deep, sonorous, tobacco-cured depths of Lightfoot's voice, which instill in me a man-crush rivaled only by Robert Lamm.
This song strikes more of a nerve (to me, anyway) than his other hits -- he genuinely sounds like a guy caught in a turbulent relationship who doesn't want to be in it but can't get out of it.
(If Wikipedia is to be believed, that was pretty much the case. Maybe that's why it sounds so real.)
Also of note: If I understood Casey correctly (and a quick recount seems to confirm this), there are as many Canadian acts on this week's countdown as there are British performers.
How often has that happened?
No. 4: "Dancing Machine," Jax 5. Has more flash than their early singles but very little of the charm. Guess that comes with growing up.
No. 3: Following another Beatles namedrop, "You Make Me Feel Brand New," the Stylistics.
Oh, you'll never guess which American city the Stylistics happened to hail from?
(Hint: Start in Bala Cynwyd and head east.)
No. 2: "The Streak," Ray Stevens.
And, brand-new at No. 1: "Band on the Run," Paul McCartney and Wings.
McCartney in those days loved to stick two or three song-fragments together and try to stitch up a linkage between them.
On "Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey," it really didn't work.
On this one, it does.
Here's another song that makes you wonder what the hell it's about.
Of course, knowing McCartney, it doesn't have to be about anything -- he has the gift of taking an evocative phrase and building something on it that works well enough to pass by the listener without conscious questioning.
(What the hell was "Uncle Albert" about, for that matter? Or "Coming Up"?)
I'm sure "Band on the Run" was some concept he dreamed up when he went to Lagos, Nigeria, to record, and he built a song around it.
Incidentally, at the same time the song was ascending to No. 1, the "Band on the Run" album rose to No. 1 on the album charts. Nice sweep.
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