141. "Don't Bring Me Down" by the Electric Light Orchestra
Three songs are inseparably connected in my head with 9th grade: (a) Another One Bites the Dust, (b) Another Brick in the Wall, and (c) Don't Bring Me Down. In the case of Don't Bring Me Down, it was a watershed moment in the way I felt about the group. I had liked them well enough before 1979's Discovery album hit the stores. I had enjoyed other ELO songs that had charted before then, including Evil Woman, Strange Magic, Do Ya, Livin' Thing, Telephone Line, Sweet Talkin' Woman, and Turn to Stone. However, until that point, ELO had always been that band that Joe just couldn't get enough of. But after I heard Don't Bring Me Down, I made up my mind that I couldn't get enough of ELO either. I became a fan.
Some say this song was the beginning of ELO not using any orchestra instruments in their songs. To those people I say, "Shut the hell up, Gregg! When was the last time you saw an orchestra without drums? Or without cymbals? Or without afros!"
The reduction in orchestral backing in this song doesn't bother me at all. But there is one thing that bugged me about this song as a 9th grader that still bugs me today--my uncertainty as to what word he's singing after "Don't bring me down." For many years, I thought he was singing "Don't bring me down. Gross!" However, I read somewhere that the lyric was "Don't bring me down. Bruce!" Other's on the interwebs agreed.
While it sounded plausible enough, this still didn't seem right to me, so I went straight to the authority on all things ELO. No, not Jeff Lynne. I went to Joe.
The explanation I got from him was that Lynn was singing "Don't bring me down. Groos!"--which is kind of a made up word. The lyrics on Google Play agrees with Joe, and since the oo in Google sounds like the oo in Groos, I would be inclined to say the issue has been put to rest.
But dammit! Some semi-reputable internet sources have claimed that Lynne sings it both Groos and Bruce, depending on if it's live or not!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Don%27t_Bring_Me_Down#Lyrics
http://www.jefflynnesongs.com/dontbringmedown/
No! No! No! No! No! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Everytime I find a video of the live version, the cameras cut away from the closeup of Lynne singing so I can't read his lips!
Because of my uncertainty as to what the lyric really is, whenever I sing along to this on the radio, there's this frustrating moment of hesitation in my mind during which I think, "Do I sing Gross like I did in Jr. High, or Groos like Joe told me to, or Bruce like they would in Australia?!"
Confusion! I don't know what I should do! I'll leave it all up to you.
Gross!
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Friday, March 24, 2017
142. Two-Thirds of Our Bacon, One-Third of Your Cheese
142. "Quiche Lorraine" by The B-52s
Life was simple in Arimo. Even simpler for a kid that hasn't even entered kindergarten. When you're all of four years old (You? Or me?), you can't help but see all things, including interpersonal relationships, in pretty simple ways. Here's what I knew when I was four. I was Chris's friend. Chris had cousins. And I wanted Chris's cousins to also be my friends. Barry was one of Chris's cousins. So, logically....
Fast forward to ten years later. Barry and his family had recently moved to Marsh Valley. Chris and Barry and I were hanging out at his house talking about fireworks. We had concocted a plan to put on a fireworks show for our families on the next 4th of July. Barry had a fireworks catalog, and I had $50. Now back in 1980, you could get a lot of fireworks for $50, but you had to be selective and only order the ones that had a good price-to-OOOOooooo ratio. During our deliberations over what to put on the order sheet, we talked about many other things, like music. Barry mentioned something about a funny song he'd heard by the B-52s about a poodle named Quiche Lorraine. (I mentioned this song back in my entry for song #167--Private Idaho.)
Now, my 14-year-old brain was extremely interested in funny songs. The highlight of any Saturday spent discing the hell out of hundreds of acres of wheat fields was hearing the Dr. Demento show on the radio. The show had funny songs from the 50s through the present day, including such classics as:
Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini
Shaving Cream
My Balogna
Bomb, Bomb, Bomb, Bomb Bomb Iran
Junk Food Junkie
Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh! (A Letter from Camp)
Fish Heads
Psycho Chicken
Spam
Dead Puppies
They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!
The Streak
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life
Shaddap You Face
Another One Rides the Bus
King Tut
Because of my affinity for funny songs, when Barry told me about Quiche Lorraine, I immediately determined that Wild Planet would be my next Columbia Records and Tapes pick. The album was an incredible tour de force of musical treats--quirky songs that at the time I would have lumped into the category of "funny" songs, including Private Idaho, Devil in My Car, Strobe Light, and the reason I bought the record in the first place--Quiche Lorraine! Onto the video!
Another reason I thought this song was exceptionally fun to sing along to was the fact that our bishop named one of his daughters by the name of Lorraine. So the song was a two-fer--I could fave fun singing about a weird looking poodle AND mock one of the few girls in town in the process.
Has anybody seen a dog dyed dark green,
About two inches tall, with a strawberry blonde fall,
Sunglasses and a bonnet,
and designer jeans with appliques on it?
The dog that brought me so much joy
Left me wallowing in pain!
Quiche Lorraine! (Bellon)
Fast forward another 30+ years. My son Erik spent a semester studying art at the San Fransisco Art Institute. While he was there, he got to meet one of the women in the B-52s. Cool! I can't remember which one, but she talked with him and some other students for a while. He wouldn't have known anything about the B-52s if he hadn't heard me playing their songs as he was growing up. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't resent the fact that I made him listen to my favorite music on a regular basis, instead of just listening to his all the time.
So thanks, Quiche, for making it possible for me to bond with my son over music for at least a few minutes. You really are a sweet, sweet, sweet puppy!
Life was simple in Arimo. Even simpler for a kid that hasn't even entered kindergarten. When you're all of four years old (You? Or me?), you can't help but see all things, including interpersonal relationships, in pretty simple ways. Here's what I knew when I was four. I was Chris's friend. Chris had cousins. And I wanted Chris's cousins to also be my friends. Barry was one of Chris's cousins. So, logically....
Fast forward to ten years later. Barry and his family had recently moved to Marsh Valley. Chris and Barry and I were hanging out at his house talking about fireworks. We had concocted a plan to put on a fireworks show for our families on the next 4th of July. Barry had a fireworks catalog, and I had $50. Now back in 1980, you could get a lot of fireworks for $50, but you had to be selective and only order the ones that had a good price-to-OOOOooooo ratio. During our deliberations over what to put on the order sheet, we talked about many other things, like music. Barry mentioned something about a funny song he'd heard by the B-52s about a poodle named Quiche Lorraine. (I mentioned this song back in my entry for song #167--Private Idaho.)
Now, my 14-year-old brain was extremely interested in funny songs. The highlight of any Saturday spent discing the hell out of hundreds of acres of wheat fields was hearing the Dr. Demento show on the radio. The show had funny songs from the 50s through the present day, including such classics as:
Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini
Shaving Cream
My Balogna
Bomb, Bomb, Bomb, Bomb Bomb Iran
Junk Food Junkie
Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh! (A Letter from Camp)
Fish Heads
Psycho Chicken
Spam
Dead Puppies
They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!
The Streak
Always Look on the Bright Side of Life
Shaddap You Face
Another One Rides the Bus
King Tut
Because of my affinity for funny songs, when Barry told me about Quiche Lorraine, I immediately determined that Wild Planet would be my next Columbia Records and Tapes pick. The album was an incredible tour de force of musical treats--quirky songs that at the time I would have lumped into the category of "funny" songs, including Private Idaho, Devil in My Car, Strobe Light, and the reason I bought the record in the first place--Quiche Lorraine! Onto the video!
Another reason I thought this song was exceptionally fun to sing along to was the fact that our bishop named one of his daughters by the name of Lorraine. So the song was a two-fer--I could fave fun singing about a weird looking poodle AND mock one of the few girls in town in the process.
Has anybody seen a dog dyed dark green,
About two inches tall, with a strawberry blonde fall,
Sunglasses and a bonnet,
and designer jeans with appliques on it?
The dog that brought me so much joy
Left me wallowing in pain!
Quiche Lorraine! (Bellon)
Fast forward another 30+ years. My son Erik spent a semester studying art at the San Fransisco Art Institute. While he was there, he got to meet one of the women in the B-52s. Cool! I can't remember which one, but she talked with him and some other students for a while. He wouldn't have known anything about the B-52s if he hadn't heard me playing their songs as he was growing up. It was the first time in a long time that he didn't resent the fact that I made him listen to my favorite music on a regular basis, instead of just listening to his all the time.
So thanks, Quiche, for making it possible for me to bond with my son over music for at least a few minutes. You really are a sweet, sweet, sweet puppy!
Thursday, March 23, 2017
143. I'm Too MaTUah to Be Angray!
143. "Back Talk" by Journey
It's was Ruth's album, but I owned it. I kept it in my room by my stereo. I listened to it whenever I wanted. I memorized the lyrics. I sang them when I wasn't even listening to the album. It was in every way an album that defined my musical tastes as a teenager. The album was "Frontiers."
Why did I like it so much? In part, because for my very first rock concert I got to see Journey with special guest Bryan Adams at the Mini-dome in Pocatello. (I refuse to call it the Holt Arena!)
The time was early 1983. Journey had just come out with Frontiers and Bryan Adams had debuted his Cuts Like a Knife album. Nice combo! (THANKS!) Mom and Dad let me go because I attended the concert with my older sisters and their husbands, so there was little chance I'd get in any trouble. (Have you seen my brother-in-law Dirk? Nobody messes with Dirk.) Still, after the concert was over and my hearing began to return, I really felt like I had gone through a rite of passage into full teenagerdom--attending a rowdy rock concert with loud music, half-naked women throwing themselves at the band, and lots and lots of pot smoke in the air. I also saw a half dozen drug deals from our seats in the stands, as well as a few fist fights that got broken up by burly men wearing shirts that said "Security" on them. How's that for living up to the rock concert stereotype!
Bryan Adams was excellent, and he basically performed his entire album. The only thing I didn't like was at one point he got the whole crowd to yell "F--- You!" over and over. To what end, I have no idea. Maybe it was a general act of defiance to the moral policing of music that was a bit of a political issue at that time*. Then when Brian left the stage he promised he would come back to Pocatello to perform again. (He never did.)
Journey played a lot of their older hits, but mostly they played songs from Frontiers. I remember they smoked and drank a lot on stage. And Steve Perry was at his Perryest, hitting all those notes that are so high it makes your scrotum shrink. (Yours? Or mine? Me or you?) But you know what makes scrotums expand, don't you? Neither do I. But I think there might be a clue in this picture of the band from the 70s.
AhUUUahUUUahUUUah! How's about something a little less bulge-ish?
I cheered so hard at the concert that I couldn't do my fingers-in-mouth whistle at the end, as my lips had given out, which is something to say for someone who played trumpet every day for an hour in band class, and several more hours on pep band gigs per week. I think the band played three encores before they ended it for good and everyone went out to the mini-dome parking lot to wait in line for two hours to get out. Not too shabby for a first concert!
But that's only one reason why I loved Frontiers so much. The second reason was that when all my high school romances went south on me, there were lots of solid breakup songs on it that I could listen to and get out all that anger over being dogged by every girl I ever wanted to not be dogged by. And when I was in that mood, there was no song I liked to play more than "Back Talk." It's a blistering, hard-rockin' pile of shout-it-out-loud angry lyrics. Unfortunately, there is no decent live video of Steve Perry singing this song. The best I could find is a video with the new lead singer, who basically ruins every song he sings. Ugh! It makes me so mad!
Yes, in this instance, the song lyrics perfectly reflect the way I feel about this new lead singer.
I believe you enjoy this aggravation.
Lately that's all I get from you!
You were born to drive me crazy!
Can't take it, can't take it any more from you!
No! No more...
Back talk! I don't need it!
Back talk! I don't need it!
Back talk! Don't want to hear it!
Don't give me no back talk--
Sassy back talk--
Don't give me no sassy back talk!
Fortunately, I've listened to the Steve Perry version so many times that even this terrible, horrible, awful performance won't make me like the song any less. It is simply the perfect arena rock song for releasing pent-up anger. And if you don't believe me, then keep it to yourself, and don't give me no sassy back talk!
NO!
* Although she had been the drummer in an all-girl rock band called the Wildcats, Tipper Gore didn't like the potty-talk in rock and roll songs, and she wanted warnings/ratings on all the records so that parents could keep their daughters from listening to albums with evil songs on them. Apparently, an impressionable Gore girl bought Purple Rain and played "Darling Nikki"--a song that referenced self-pleasuring--on the home stereo while her parents listened (dumb idea!), and Tipper lost her mind. A couple years later, we started seeing those warning labels on album covers for explicit lyrics, which only made teenagers want to buy them all the more, which in turn made all the artists want to use them more. And that's why teenagers today have such filthy mouths when they give their sassy back talk.
It's was Ruth's album, but I owned it. I kept it in my room by my stereo. I listened to it whenever I wanted. I memorized the lyrics. I sang them when I wasn't even listening to the album. It was in every way an album that defined my musical tastes as a teenager. The album was "Frontiers."
 |
| This is what aliens looked like in the 80s--Michael Jackson's nose and Emma Stone's eyes. |
Why did I like it so much? In part, because for my very first rock concert I got to see Journey with special guest Bryan Adams at the Mini-dome in Pocatello. (I refuse to call it the Holt Arena!)
The time was early 1983. Journey had just come out with Frontiers and Bryan Adams had debuted his Cuts Like a Knife album. Nice combo! (THANKS!) Mom and Dad let me go because I attended the concert with my older sisters and their husbands, so there was little chance I'd get in any trouble. (Have you seen my brother-in-law Dirk? Nobody messes with Dirk.) Still, after the concert was over and my hearing began to return, I really felt like I had gone through a rite of passage into full teenagerdom--attending a rowdy rock concert with loud music, half-naked women throwing themselves at the band, and lots and lots of pot smoke in the air. I also saw a half dozen drug deals from our seats in the stands, as well as a few fist fights that got broken up by burly men wearing shirts that said "Security" on them. How's that for living up to the rock concert stereotype!
Bryan Adams was excellent, and he basically performed his entire album. The only thing I didn't like was at one point he got the whole crowd to yell "F--- You!" over and over. To what end, I have no idea. Maybe it was a general act of defiance to the moral policing of music that was a bit of a political issue at that time*. Then when Brian left the stage he promised he would come back to Pocatello to perform again. (He never did.)
 |
| Is he running? Is he dancing? Is he trying to start a new Olympic sport of guitar discus? |
Journey played a lot of their older hits, but mostly they played songs from Frontiers. I remember they smoked and drank a lot on stage. And Steve Perry was at his Perryest, hitting all those notes that are so high it makes your scrotum shrink. (Yours? Or mine? Me or you?) But you know what makes scrotums expand, don't you? Neither do I. But I think there might be a clue in this picture of the band from the 70s.
 |
| Neal Schon stuck in his thumb and pulled out a disco fro. |
 |
| Tighter pants. Modest bulge. Better hair. Thank you 80s! |
I cheered so hard at the concert that I couldn't do my fingers-in-mouth whistle at the end, as my lips had given out, which is something to say for someone who played trumpet every day for an hour in band class, and several more hours on pep band gigs per week. I think the band played three encores before they ended it for good and everyone went out to the mini-dome parking lot to wait in line for two hours to get out. Not too shabby for a first concert!
But that's only one reason why I loved Frontiers so much. The second reason was that when all my high school romances went south on me, there were lots of solid breakup songs on it that I could listen to and get out all that anger over being dogged by every girl I ever wanted to not be dogged by. And when I was in that mood, there was no song I liked to play more than "Back Talk." It's a blistering, hard-rockin' pile of shout-it-out-loud angry lyrics. Unfortunately, there is no decent live video of Steve Perry singing this song. The best I could find is a video with the new lead singer, who basically ruins every song he sings. Ugh! It makes me so mad!
Yes, in this instance, the song lyrics perfectly reflect the way I feel about this new lead singer.
I believe you enjoy this aggravation.
Lately that's all I get from you!
You were born to drive me crazy!
Can't take it, can't take it any more from you!
No! No more...
Back talk! I don't need it!
Back talk! I don't need it!
Back talk! Don't want to hear it!
Don't give me no back talk--
Sassy back talk--
Don't give me no sassy back talk!
NO!
Fortunately, I've listened to the Steve Perry version so many times that even this terrible, horrible, awful performance won't make me like the song any less. It is simply the perfect arena rock song for releasing pent-up anger. And if you don't believe me, then keep it to yourself, and don't give me no sassy back talk!
NO!
* Although she had been the drummer in an all-girl rock band called the Wildcats, Tipper Gore didn't like the potty-talk in rock and roll songs, and she wanted warnings/ratings on all the records so that parents could keep their daughters from listening to albums with evil songs on them. Apparently, an impressionable Gore girl bought Purple Rain and played "Darling Nikki"--a song that referenced self-pleasuring--on the home stereo while her parents listened (dumb idea!), and Tipper lost her mind. A couple years later, we started seeing those warning labels on album covers for explicit lyrics, which only made teenagers want to buy them all the more, which in turn made all the artists want to use them more. And that's why teenagers today have such filthy mouths when they give their sassy back talk.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
144. The Mystery of the Plugged Bathtub
144. "Computer Blue" by Prince & The Revolution
The music of my freshman year at Ricks College was dominated by the soundtrack to Purple Rain. At the time I was NOT a fan of Prince. I thought the music to the movie was good, but I'm the kind of guy that thinks when a movie starts setting college fashion trends, it's time to actively resist. And Purple Rain definitely stirred up a fashion storm, even in the protective enclave of Ricks College.
One day while my roommate, Jeff, and I were talking (more accurately, he was talking while I was bashing) about Prince and Purple Rain, he mentioned a song off the album that I hadn't heard before--Computer Blue. He said he liked how it started with the dialogue between two women:
Wendy?
Yes, Lisa.
Is the water warm enough?
Yes, Lisa.
Shall we begin?
Yes, Lisa.
Then he busted up laughing at the dialogue he had just repeated. Huh?! What's so funny?
I remember after that chat he would sometimes just out of nowhere for no reason at all repeat this dialogue and then laugh. For the life of me, I don't know what he thought was so funny about these lines. First of all, it's obvious that there's oodles of sexual innuendo in the way the women say the lines. But sexual innuendo in a Prince song is nothing that surprising or entertaining or funny. So why did he keep laughing at these lines?!
Later in life, I was listening to the Purple Rain album because...um...I don't know. I must have been really bored, because like I said, I thought the songs were okay, but nothing that I'd want to listen to over and over. But I happen to be listening to the soundtrack when the song came up with that dialogue again, and I was instantly transported back to my dorm room and that conversation I'd had with my roommate Jeff. To my surprise, it turned out to be a very fond memory. And after I heard the guitar solo in the last 90 seconds of the song, I realized I liked it a lot for musical reasons too. For a Prince song, it rocked pretty hard! What's even more surprising is that when I saw the song being played in the movie, I didn't immediately dislike it because of the ridiculousness of the scene. Come on, Prince! Put a shirt on! Or at least towel off!
I still have no idea why Jeff got such a big kick out of the dialogue. When the dialogue is spoken in the movie, all it shows is a teary-eyed Prince and his drunken, abusive father smoking and standing in the hallway. So the movie is ZERO help in figuring out why Jeff thought it was so damn funny!
Nevertheless, even though I'm still annoyed by the opening dialogue in this song, because of its emotional connection to a period in my life that I now enjoy remembering, I have developed an affinity for this particular song. But I still refuse to think it's cool to dress like Prince!
The music of my freshman year at Ricks College was dominated by the soundtrack to Purple Rain. At the time I was NOT a fan of Prince. I thought the music to the movie was good, but I'm the kind of guy that thinks when a movie starts setting college fashion trends, it's time to actively resist. And Purple Rain definitely stirred up a fashion storm, even in the protective enclave of Ricks College.
 |
| Stop dressing like me! You're ruining this movie for everyone! |
One day while my roommate, Jeff, and I were talking (more accurately, he was talking while I was bashing) about Prince and Purple Rain, he mentioned a song off the album that I hadn't heard before--Computer Blue. He said he liked how it started with the dialogue between two women:
Wendy?
Yes, Lisa.
Is the water warm enough?
Yes, Lisa.
Shall we begin?
Yes, Lisa.
Then he busted up laughing at the dialogue he had just repeated. Huh?! What's so funny?
I remember after that chat he would sometimes just out of nowhere for no reason at all repeat this dialogue and then laugh. For the life of me, I don't know what he thought was so funny about these lines. First of all, it's obvious that there's oodles of sexual innuendo in the way the women say the lines. But sexual innuendo in a Prince song is nothing that surprising or entertaining or funny. So why did he keep laughing at these lines?!
Later in life, I was listening to the Purple Rain album because...um...I don't know. I must have been really bored, because like I said, I thought the songs were okay, but nothing that I'd want to listen to over and over. But I happen to be listening to the soundtrack when the song came up with that dialogue again, and I was instantly transported back to my dorm room and that conversation I'd had with my roommate Jeff. To my surprise, it turned out to be a very fond memory. And after I heard the guitar solo in the last 90 seconds of the song, I realized I liked it a lot for musical reasons too. For a Prince song, it rocked pretty hard! What's even more surprising is that when I saw the song being played in the movie, I didn't immediately dislike it because of the ridiculousness of the scene. Come on, Prince! Put a shirt on! Or at least towel off!
I still have no idea why Jeff got such a big kick out of the dialogue. When the dialogue is spoken in the movie, all it shows is a teary-eyed Prince and his drunken, abusive father smoking and standing in the hallway. So the movie is ZERO help in figuring out why Jeff thought it was so damn funny!
Nevertheless, even though I'm still annoyed by the opening dialogue in this song, because of its emotional connection to a period in my life that I now enjoy remembering, I have developed an affinity for this particular song. But I still refuse to think it's cool to dress like Prince!
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
145. Jacob's Ladder
145. "Don't Stand So Close To Me" by The Police
Every summer, from the time I was a baby until around 14 years old, Mom would pack all six or seven kids (depending on how many had been born that year) into the blue Ford LTD and drive to Aunt Elva's for an extended visit of four to five days. The reasons for the long stay were two-fold. First, we loved playing with our cousins toys, which we did NOT have duplicates of at home. Second, according to the unwritten Law of Family Visitation, the longer the trip to get there, the longer the stay had to be.
Now, back in the day when the national speed limit was 55 miles an hour, a trip from Arimo to Sand Hollow (located near the western border of the state just before hitting Oregon) took approximately 17 hours and 13 tanks of gas. Of course, I'm only counting the time it took for me to make the trip. Being the middle kid, I usually had to sit in the middle of the back seat, which nearly triples the time it takes to get anywhere. If I'd had the luxury of sitting next to the window, like my older siblings did, the drive would have taken around 6 hours.
There were three forms of entertainment on these windowless, cross-state treks: listing to the car radio, reading a book, or fighting with siblings, which most often involved arguing over what station to listen to on the radio or hitting one another with books. Such fights were exhausting for everyone, so Mom always took a breather at a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Idaho to refuel us with a picnic lunch of baloney and cheese sandwiches on homemade bread. We washed it all down with water from an old bleach bottle that had been removed from the freezer that morning and was still half-filled with ice. This was our only real source of relief from the heat, as the air conditioning in cars back then was of such limited power that we often had honest arguments over whether or not it would feel cooler to roll down the windows.
Although our drive from Marsh Valley through Magic Valley to the Treasure Valley was fraught with the perils of heat, hunger, and hitting, I still always looked forward to these trips. Why? Because at the end of our three-valley pilgrimage, I got to play with my cousin Randy, who was about one year older than me.
Wait. Did I say "play?" That's really not quite the right word for what we did all day together. Aunt Elva's family lived on a dairy farm, which is why we usually visited them and they rarely visited us. Unlike fields of wheat, milking cows are not something you can just leave behind for a day or two. They've got to be milked twice a day, rain or shine. Consequently, even though we were visitors, we were still expected to help out with the day-long list of chores--milking cows, herding cows, feeding cows, cleaning cowpies out of the milking barn, irrigating alfalfa fields, hand-pollinating row after row after row of corn, feeding pigs, herding pigs, feeding chickens, gathering eggs, feeding rabbits, and catching rabbits that broke loose while we were feeding them. We only got to "play" after we got our chores done. And my favorite game was Caroom--a poor man's version of pool played by using a small cue stick to strike a colored ring so that it collided with other colored rings with the hope that your color of ring would slide into one of the four corner pockets.
I know. I know. It doesn't sound like it's even half as fun as regular pool. But after spending most of the day doing dairy-farm chores, it seemed like the greatest game ever invented. I begged Randy to play it all the time, and he usually obliged, and he usually won. However, the real pleasure of playing the game came from glancing the rings off the sides of the board into a corner pocket--hence the name Caroom!
During the summer of 1981, right after I'd finished the 9th grade, my summer visit to Aunt Elva's marked a change in my relationship with Randy. I became more of a tag-along than a playmate. He tried to ditch me a couple of times by sneaking around corners when I wasn't looking. This made me try to stay really close to him as we did our chores, since I didn't want to have to hunt him down or go back to the house without him, as that would make me look like I was being lazy, and Mom would get mad at me and tell me to get back out and help with the chores.
Because I was trying to stick to Randy like glue, he got annoyed at me on our second day and told me to back off. Then, for the rest of the visit, he would sing "Don't Stand So Close to Me" anytime I got within arm's length. But he wouldn't just sing that chorus line, he'd go on to sing other parts of the song, and he sometimes change the lyrics. He was especially fond of replacing the word "bad" with "fat" in the line "Her friends are so jealous, you know how FAT girls get!"
While I didn't appreciate Randy's repeated musical admonitions of "don't stand so close me," I actually began to like the song because of his singing it. Later that year, when I joined the Columbia Records and Tapes club, as one of my thirteen choices I ordered the Police's third album "Zenyatta Mondatta"--which I believe in the original language of Stingish means "statutory rape."
The commercial success of this song forced these three musical geniuses to create one of the most boring music videos of all time. The only redeeming thing in this visual debacle is the somewhat Stooge-esque dance moves. Here's a tip for producing a quality video, laddies. When a ladder is the most interesting thing in the video--even more interesting than Sting taking off his shirt--it's time to stop filming and come up with another idea for the video.
While I enjoy all of the songs on that album--including the baby-talk titled song "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da"--I've come to accept that my favorite song on the album is "Don't Stand So Close To Me." In spite of the creepy storyline of an English teacher's illicit affair with a sexually precocious teenage student, I can't help but associate it with my fond memories of staying at Aunt Elva's house during the summers of my youth.
Sadly, after that summer Randy introduced me to The Police, his life took a number of turns that put us on much different paths. Because of his drug use, we did not end up the life-long friends that I'd hoped we'd be. And even more sadly, the drugs eventually led to him dying at the age of 40 due to complications of a fungus infection in his lungs. However, the good memories of our times together remain a source of happiness to me. And to this day, whenever I hear "Don't Stand So Close To Me," I turn up the song, think of Randy, and belt out the line "You know how FAT girls get!"
Every summer, from the time I was a baby until around 14 years old, Mom would pack all six or seven kids (depending on how many had been born that year) into the blue Ford LTD and drive to Aunt Elva's for an extended visit of four to five days. The reasons for the long stay were two-fold. First, we loved playing with our cousins toys, which we did NOT have duplicates of at home. Second, according to the unwritten Law of Family Visitation, the longer the trip to get there, the longer the stay had to be.
Now, back in the day when the national speed limit was 55 miles an hour, a trip from Arimo to Sand Hollow (located near the western border of the state just before hitting Oregon) took approximately 17 hours and 13 tanks of gas. Of course, I'm only counting the time it took for me to make the trip. Being the middle kid, I usually had to sit in the middle of the back seat, which nearly triples the time it takes to get anywhere. If I'd had the luxury of sitting next to the window, like my older siblings did, the drive would have taken around 6 hours.
There were three forms of entertainment on these windowless, cross-state treks: listing to the car radio, reading a book, or fighting with siblings, which most often involved arguing over what station to listen to on the radio or hitting one another with books. Such fights were exhausting for everyone, so Mom always took a breather at a rest stop somewhere in the middle of Idaho to refuel us with a picnic lunch of baloney and cheese sandwiches on homemade bread. We washed it all down with water from an old bleach bottle that had been removed from the freezer that morning and was still half-filled with ice. This was our only real source of relief from the heat, as the air conditioning in cars back then was of such limited power that we often had honest arguments over whether or not it would feel cooler to roll down the windows.
Although our drive from Marsh Valley through Magic Valley to the Treasure Valley was fraught with the perils of heat, hunger, and hitting, I still always looked forward to these trips. Why? Because at the end of our three-valley pilgrimage, I got to play with my cousin Randy, who was about one year older than me.
Wait. Did I say "play?" That's really not quite the right word for what we did all day together. Aunt Elva's family lived on a dairy farm, which is why we usually visited them and they rarely visited us. Unlike fields of wheat, milking cows are not something you can just leave behind for a day or two. They've got to be milked twice a day, rain or shine. Consequently, even though we were visitors, we were still expected to help out with the day-long list of chores--milking cows, herding cows, feeding cows, cleaning cowpies out of the milking barn, irrigating alfalfa fields, hand-pollinating row after row after row of corn, feeding pigs, herding pigs, feeding chickens, gathering eggs, feeding rabbits, and catching rabbits that broke loose while we were feeding them. We only got to "play" after we got our chores done. And my favorite game was Caroom--a poor man's version of pool played by using a small cue stick to strike a colored ring so that it collided with other colored rings with the hope that your color of ring would slide into one of the four corner pockets.
 |
| Caroom! |
During the summer of 1981, right after I'd finished the 9th grade, my summer visit to Aunt Elva's marked a change in my relationship with Randy. I became more of a tag-along than a playmate. He tried to ditch me a couple of times by sneaking around corners when I wasn't looking. This made me try to stay really close to him as we did our chores, since I didn't want to have to hunt him down or go back to the house without him, as that would make me look like I was being lazy, and Mom would get mad at me and tell me to get back out and help with the chores.
Because I was trying to stick to Randy like glue, he got annoyed at me on our second day and told me to back off. Then, for the rest of the visit, he would sing "Don't Stand So Close to Me" anytime I got within arm's length. But he wouldn't just sing that chorus line, he'd go on to sing other parts of the song, and he sometimes change the lyrics. He was especially fond of replacing the word "bad" with "fat" in the line "Her friends are so jealous, you know how FAT girls get!"
While I didn't appreciate Randy's repeated musical admonitions of "don't stand so close me," I actually began to like the song because of his singing it. Later that year, when I joined the Columbia Records and Tapes club, as one of my thirteen choices I ordered the Police's third album "Zenyatta Mondatta"--which I believe in the original language of Stingish means "statutory rape."
The commercial success of this song forced these three musical geniuses to create one of the most boring music videos of all time. The only redeeming thing in this visual debacle is the somewhat Stooge-esque dance moves. Here's a tip for producing a quality video, laddies. When a ladder is the most interesting thing in the video--even more interesting than Sting taking off his shirt--it's time to stop filming and come up with another idea for the video.
While I enjoy all of the songs on that album--including the baby-talk titled song "De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da"--I've come to accept that my favorite song on the album is "Don't Stand So Close To Me." In spite of the creepy storyline of an English teacher's illicit affair with a sexually precocious teenage student, I can't help but associate it with my fond memories of staying at Aunt Elva's house during the summers of my youth.
Sadly, after that summer Randy introduced me to The Police, his life took a number of turns that put us on much different paths. Because of his drug use, we did not end up the life-long friends that I'd hoped we'd be. And even more sadly, the drugs eventually led to him dying at the age of 40 due to complications of a fungus infection in his lungs. However, the good memories of our times together remain a source of happiness to me. And to this day, whenever I hear "Don't Stand So Close To Me," I turn up the song, think of Randy, and belt out the line "You know how FAT girls get!"
Monday, March 20, 2017
146. The Pipes are Calling
146. "It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll)" by AC/DC
Bagpipes!
Did I mention the bagpipes?
BAGPIPES!
'Nuff said!
Bagpipes!
Did I mention the bagpipes?
BAGPIPES!
'Nuff said!
147. Soitenly!
147. "The Curly Shuffle" by Jump 'N' the Saddle Band
The beginning of the 1976 television season introduced my 10-year-old cartoon loving brain to Jabberjaw--a shark that talked like Curly on The Three Stooges. I didn't like the storyline of the cartoon that much--a shark that's a drummer for a lame teenage rock band. It actually wasn't that memorable of a show to me, and I don't recall anything that ever happened in any of the episodes. But I loved how Jabberjaw talked like Curly--so much so that I began to imitate Jabberjaw. That's right. In my pre-pubescent mind, I wanted to learn to talk like Jabberjaw, not Curly. So I practiced by repeating the phrases and sounds that Jabberjaw made until I got decent enough at imitating the shark that I could not only make my sisters laugh, but I also could make myself chuckle. Granted, my Jabberjaw repertoire was mostly limited to three sounds: woob-woob, nyuk-nyuk, and ahUUUah! But you can do a lot with just these three sounds. In fact, these three sounds made up about 37% of the shark's dialogue on the show. Don't believe me? Here's a sample.
In this clip, Jabber has about 40 seconds of dialogue. In that time, he had 3 woob-woobs, 6 nyuk-nyuks, and 5 ahUUUahs. The time it takes to make those three sounds varies, but it's about 15 seconds in total. 15/40 = 37.5%
I told ya! I told ya!
Full disclosure--I totally made up the 37% number before I did the dialogue analysis, and I was right on the mark! I guess I must have learned more from Alan Christensen's math classes than how to make girls laugh by sharpening pencils. (Take a full-length pencil, insert into sharpener, crank for about 5 seconds, blow on the pencil tip and check for sharpness, insert and crank again for about 10 seconds, blow again, sharpen for 2 seconds, blow again, sharpen for 2 quick cranks, blow again, return to seat with pencil nub.)
Because I had already mastered the three basic Jabberjaw curly-esque sounds, when the Jump 'N' the Saddle Band released "The Curly Shuffle" in 1983 I made an immediate, strong connection to the song, and I started adding some Curly quotes to my Jabberjaw noises, including "Oh, wise guy!" and "Soitenly!"
The Curly Shuffle hardly ever gets played on the radio anymore, but every now and then when I'm feeling like I want a little pick-me-up, I'll google up an illegal copy on the ol' internet and let the song take me back to a time when all I needed to be happy was a little Jabberjaw noise.
I don't know if there was ever an official video that went with this song, and if there was, I doubt MTV played it. But I do think that it is entertaining to listen to the song while watching clips from The Three Stooges shorts.
By the way, I think most songs would be better if you've got a Stooges movie compilation for the video. For example, Gangnam Style is at least 1000% better with Moe, Larry, and Curly (and Shemp) dancing to it. (I'm sure that Roni and Buzz will back me up on that claim.)
If only I could imitate those dance moves!
The Curly Shuffle isn't the first or last novelty song on the list. But it is the only song that brings out my inner ten-year-old so much that I walk around the house doing Jabberjaw sounds for the rest of the day. Of course, you know what my wife's reaction is to that--AhUUUahUUUahUUUah!
The beginning of the 1976 television season introduced my 10-year-old cartoon loving brain to Jabberjaw--a shark that talked like Curly on The Three Stooges. I didn't like the storyline of the cartoon that much--a shark that's a drummer for a lame teenage rock band. It actually wasn't that memorable of a show to me, and I don't recall anything that ever happened in any of the episodes. But I loved how Jabberjaw talked like Curly--so much so that I began to imitate Jabberjaw. That's right. In my pre-pubescent mind, I wanted to learn to talk like Jabberjaw, not Curly. So I practiced by repeating the phrases and sounds that Jabberjaw made until I got decent enough at imitating the shark that I could not only make my sisters laugh, but I also could make myself chuckle. Granted, my Jabberjaw repertoire was mostly limited to three sounds: woob-woob, nyuk-nyuk, and ahUUUah! But you can do a lot with just these three sounds. In fact, these three sounds made up about 37% of the shark's dialogue on the show. Don't believe me? Here's a sample.
In this clip, Jabber has about 40 seconds of dialogue. In that time, he had 3 woob-woobs, 6 nyuk-nyuks, and 5 ahUUUahs. The time it takes to make those three sounds varies, but it's about 15 seconds in total. 15/40 = 37.5%
I told ya! I told ya!
Full disclosure--I totally made up the 37% number before I did the dialogue analysis, and I was right on the mark! I guess I must have learned more from Alan Christensen's math classes than how to make girls laugh by sharpening pencils. (Take a full-length pencil, insert into sharpener, crank for about 5 seconds, blow on the pencil tip and check for sharpness, insert and crank again for about 10 seconds, blow again, sharpen for 2 seconds, blow again, sharpen for 2 quick cranks, blow again, return to seat with pencil nub.)
Because I had already mastered the three basic Jabberjaw curly-esque sounds, when the Jump 'N' the Saddle Band released "The Curly Shuffle" in 1983 I made an immediate, strong connection to the song, and I started adding some Curly quotes to my Jabberjaw noises, including "Oh, wise guy!" and "Soitenly!"
The Curly Shuffle hardly ever gets played on the radio anymore, but every now and then when I'm feeling like I want a little pick-me-up, I'll google up an illegal copy on the ol' internet and let the song take me back to a time when all I needed to be happy was a little Jabberjaw noise.
I don't know if there was ever an official video that went with this song, and if there was, I doubt MTV played it. But I do think that it is entertaining to listen to the song while watching clips from The Three Stooges shorts.
By the way, I think most songs would be better if you've got a Stooges movie compilation for the video. For example, Gangnam Style is at least 1000% better with Moe, Larry, and Curly (and Shemp) dancing to it. (I'm sure that Roni and Buzz will back me up on that claim.)
If only I could imitate those dance moves!
The Curly Shuffle isn't the first or last novelty song on the list. But it is the only song that brings out my inner ten-year-old so much that I walk around the house doing Jabberjaw sounds for the rest of the day. Of course, you know what my wife's reaction is to that--AhUUUahUUUahUUUah!
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