Cosmic American Blog

Belinda Carlisle May Have Had The Most Awesome Career Of All Time

2012-01-26T21:37:00.000-08:00

Think about it.

If someone asked me to come up with the most absurdly awesome pop singer career I could think of, designed to appeal specifically to me, Little Earl, I think this is what I would have come up with. No, scratch that; what I would have come up with wouldn't have been as good.

Upon closer inspection, I came to realize that Belinda Carlisle appears to have collaborated with, performed on the same bill as, or at the very least met, members of every single one of my favorite bands. The Beatles? Check. The Beach Boys? Check. The Rolling Stones? Check. Fleetwood Mac? Check? The Bee Gees? Check. Roxy Music? David Bowie? Queen? Elton John? Check check check check.

Elvis? No, but she claims he is her favorite singer and she wears white underwear in his honor (Elvis apparently liked white underwear). Frank Sinatra? No, but she once had an amusing encounter with Sammy Davis, Jr. in a Hollywood restaurant. Michael Jackson? No, but she claims he once called her hairdresser to ask if she wore a wig (she didn't). Nirvana? No, but her former Germs band mate Pat Smear went on to become essentially the fourth member of Nirvana during their last year or so of existence.

You name it, she's done it. Number One album, and single? Yep. Selling out Wembley Stadium? Yep. Marrying the son of a movie star? Yep. I was even surprised to discover that, although her solo career essentially dried up in the US around 1990, she remained extremely popular in the UK throughout the early '90s, even scoring Top Ten hits as late as 1996.

1996! I mean, this was when the UK music scene was really happening with, you know, real artists. And people were still listening to Belinda Carlisle? Christ on a cracker.

What had begun as a vague, casual interest had now slid into a sick, twisted obsession. I rapidly consumed every Belinda Carlisle YouTube clip I could get my hands on. I did Belinda Carlisle YouTube clips the way Belinda Carlisle did coke. Did you know that there are whole secret YouTube caverns and crevices dedicated solely to Go-Go's and Belinda Carlisle clips? I have been there. I have been to the mountaintop.

So, to summarize: Girl goes from being in arguably the first L.A. punk band ever, to being the lead singer of one of the greatest New Wave bands ever, to becoming a late '80s Top 40 cheesemeister, to becoming a European chart fixture at the height of Britpop ... I mean, here is a woman who managed to consume every chemical known to man, send pictures of her vagina to men's hotel rooms, pose for Playboy, and still came off classier than Madonna ... why, this has to be the greatest, zaniest career of all time. A career so zany, you couldn't make it up if you tried. A career so zany, someone needed write a book about it. Just to put it all in perspective, to try to make some sense of the whole shebang. Hell, I would do it myself - that is, if it hadn't been done already.

Ah. For you see, during my research, I quickly discovered that someone had recently (June 2010) beaten me to the very punch. Imagine my surprise when I learned the author's name:

Belinda Carlisle.

Belinda Carlisle Was Attractive

2012-01-23T17:56:00.001-08:00

That's Belinda Carlisle?

No, seriously, that's Belinda Carlisle?

Come on, stop joking around, show me a picture of Belinda Carlisle.

Really?

No, not Miss America 1986, I said a picture of Belinda Carlisle. You know, former Germs member Belinda Carlisle?

Holy Moley.

I'd heard things here and there. I remember when my brother went to a Go-Go's reunion show in Golden Gate Park about ten years ago, and I asked him over the phone how it was. The first thing he said was, "You know, Belinda Carlisle, I have to say, she's still looking pretty good." But my brother tended to be rather horny in those days and he was attracted to just about anything that moved.

I also remember when Carlisle posed for Playboy right around the same time. But men who grew up in the '80s, I felt, seemed to retain a fondness for girls of their pop culture youth whether they were all that attractive or not. I dismissed their enthusiasm for nude Belinda Carlisle photos as simply misplaced nostalgia.

But now, after having seriously listened to the Go-Go's and Carlisle's solo material, and having been amused by her secret punk rock history, I started taking a good look at her music videos on YouTube. And another good look. And another.

Oh. My. God.

Ladies and gentlemen, I had finally found her:

My '80s Dream Woman.

Let's face it. Most girls who were considered "hot" in the '80s, when you actually look at them now, look kind of ridiculous and, frankly, not all that hot. But Belinda Carlisle in the '80s still looks pretty good. Like, in 2012.

I mean, when people talk about a hot female singer from the '80s they probably think of Madonna. Here's Madonna, circa 1986, in the "Papa Don't Preach" video:

Now, here's Belinda Carlisle, circa 1986, in the infamous "Mad About You" video:

Yeah. Oh yeah.

I mean sure, Madonna had a certain sex appeal and great fashion sense. But Belinda Carlisle was ... pretty. You might want to have sex with Madonna, but you would have a crush on Belinda Carlisle.

Oh, and did I mention the former depraved punk rocker thing? You see, most female singers who are attractive are also rather boring and shallow. Imagine if one of these singers also happened to be intelligent, complex, zany, and knowledgeable about the musical culture around her?

Guys, I think I'd hit the jackpot.

And you'd think all the drugs she ingested would have shown up at some point and made her look shittier, but it seems like it was the other way around. She must have struck some sort of weird Faustian bargain: the more drugs she took, the better looking she got.

So add it all together: the former punk career, the surprising fondness for coke, the looks of a homecoming queen - I was left to draw only one final conclusion ...

Belinda Carlisle Did Coke. Lots Of Coke.

2012-01-20T18:08:00.001-08:00

So, as I perused Go-Go's and Belinda Carlisle videos on YouTube, in search of the answers to so many questions, I kept reading oblique references to "drug use." Just what kind of "drug use" were we talking about here? As far as I could tell, Carlisle was so clean-cut she made Barbra Streisand look like Janis Joplin. She seemed like the kind of girl who would scream if she broke a nail. Apparently those D.A.R.E. ads didn't work for her.

Turns out Belinda Carlisle did coke. Lots of coke. Mountains of coke. Enough coke for a small Eastern European country. More coke than Stevie Nicks, Marvin Gaye, and Richard Dreyfuss combined. Take the hypothetical amount of coke that Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, the Eagles, and Oasis may have consumed over the course of their entire careers, multiply that by five, and you might - might - be somewhere near the amount of coke that has been snorted by Belinda Carlisle.

Folks, this might explain everything. This might explain how, in just a few short years, she went from being a contemporary of X to a contemporary of Tiffany. Apparently she was on coke for years and years. It's quite possible that she may have had no idea what was going on the whole time.

The plot only thickened after I found an interview Carlisle did with Jenny Stewart of PlanetOut.com in 2009. Some excerpts:

If you had a five-hour window, where you could do any drug in the world with the assurance that nothing bad would happen and you'd be safe ... what drug would you do, and under what circumstances --

[Excited]. I can tell you exactly what it would be. I don't need to think about it! OK, it would be mushrooms, and it would be in the countryside in Ireland, which was one of the best days of my whole life when I did that! I went on a complete mushroom trip for an entire day, with a backpack filled with fruit, and it was so much fun.

Were you with anybody?

Oh, yeah! I was with an actual mushroom priest, and had a complete ceremony, and the whole thing -- and it was completely sacred, and it was AMAZING! I never would have guessed mushrooms. Yeah, definitely mushrooms. You probably would have guessed cocaine, but no -- no coke or anything speedy. Mushrooms, for sure. Totally.

You referred to what was maybe a bad party once as a result of "too much cocaine, Quaaludes and boredom." Totally random -- do you remember the number that was on a Qaaulude pill?

Yup -- seven-fourteen. Yes! [Laughs] That's scary, huh? But I used to love them.

What happened to them? Why did they stop making Quaaludes?

Well, because they were too good, that's why. [Laughs] They were just too good. I mean, I used to love the whole sort thing where you know, you'd get them, and then you'd take one. And then you'd just sort of wait for your fingers to get numb, and then your mouth would go numb, and then everything would just sort of get all . . . pear-shaped, basically.

Was there ever a super gorgeous lesbian groupie or even just a fan that made you think, "Wow!"

Oh, well, yeah -- that's happened quite a few times through the years. And not just to me, but to all the girls in the Go-Gos. And come on, it's always flattering, I mean, I'd rather have it from someone attractive than from someone ugly.

Damn. Belinda Carlisle was no delicate flower. This woman had been around.

Then Stewart proceeded to play a rather naughty game with Carlisle:

Would you be willing to play "Who would you rather sleep with?" I chose some female rock stars from the '80s, and you tell me which one you'd rather sleep with -- and why.

I'll play; it sounds funny.

OK -- Debbie Harry or Pat Benatar?

Debbie Harry. I mean, from what I said before and also because I wanted to be Debbie Harry when I was 17.

Joan Jett or Stevie Nicks?

[Thinks] Ummm . . . hmmm. Oh, Joan Jett! 'Cuz she's cute.

OK -- I just had to -- Joan Baez or Janis Ian?

[Laughs hard] Janis IAN? Oh, my God, that's so scary! I'd say Joan Baez. [Laughing]

But why?

Well 'cuz she's more attractive! [Still laughing].

Exene (from the punk band X) or Phranc the lesbian folk singer?

[Laughing] Oh, my God, that's slim pickin's right there! Hmmm. Well, I think I'd have to go with Phranc the lesbian folk singer.

Corey Haim or Corey Feldman?

Ewwww!!! Oh, God! [Laughs hard, then silence.] Hmmm. [Laughs harder.] Oh, God. OK, probably Corey Haim. [Laughing.]

But why Haim? You have to give a reason.

I don't know! I have no idea! [Laughing.] Well, because ... isn't Corey Feldman the one who moondanced? He was the one Corey that did the moonwalk, right? Anyone who does that? I mean, come on. No way.

OK, last one. Madonna or Cyndi Lauper?

Oh, I'd definitely go with Madonna. Just so I could say "I've been with Madonna."

For somebody with such a tame solo career, Carlisle sounded pretty ... zany. I was digging her style. Instead of finding answers, I felt as though the mystery was only deepening. I became even more intrigued when I discovered another surprising facet of this woman's career.

Belinda Carlisle Was In The Germs (?!)

2012-01-17T20:45:00.001-08:00

So here is how much, until I started learning about the Go-Go's, I knew about the Germs.

The Germs were arguably the first L.A. punk band. Now, there were three major punk scenes in the late '70s: New York punk, British punk, and L.A. punk. I prefer British punk the most, and also have quite a fondness for New York punk, but L.A. punk is probably my least favorite of the three. As Stephen Thomas Erlewine writes in his review of the Rhino compilation We're Desperate: The L.A. Scene (1976-1979), "the Los Angeles scene wasn't nearly as rich and diverse as those in New York and London. New wave pop didn't have a stronghold in the L.A. punk community, which tended to favor raw, hard, amateurish punk." In other words, L.A. punk kind of stank like a smelly sock.

The best part about the Germs was probably the band members' stage names: Darby Crash, Pat Smear, Lorna Doom, and, briefly, a young woman going by the name of Dottie Danger (who unlike her band mates, would eventually become known to the world under a different moniker).

Darby Crash was their Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious all in one, antagonizing the audience with his lead singing a la Rotten, and becoming a raging junkie a la Vicious. During concerts he would smear himself with peanut butter and salad dressing. He also had a hard time singing into the microphone.

The Germs recorded one album (produced by Joan Jett!) before Crash came back from a trip to England proclaiming that his new musical hero was Adam Ant. Not long afterward, he intentionally overdosed on heroin, the day before John Lennon was assassinated. Nice timing.

In the end, I might like the Germs' story more than their actual music. But what I think of them is really not important here. What you need to know is this: the Germs were about as gritty, raw, credible, and influential as L.A. punk got. In other words, later (and better) bands started out wanting to be the Germs.

So, I'm reading the Wikipedia entry on the Go-Go's and I come across this: "They were formed as a punk band and had roots in the L.A. punk community; they shared a rehearsal space with X, and Carlisle (under the name 'Dottie Danger') had briefly been a member of punk-rock band The Germs."

Cue the sound of a needle being ripped from a spinning record. Did I just read that Belinda Carlisle had been in the Germs? Not "the" Germs? Perhaps they meant a different Germs? Perhaps they meant a different Belinda Carlisle? Maybe someone was pulling a Wikipedia prank? Surely this couldn't have been true, under any circumstances. I checked the Germs' Wikipedia article:

In April 1977 the band added Lorna Doom (Teresa Ryan) on bass, with transitional member "Dottie Danger", later famous as Belinda Carlisle of The Go-Go's, on drums. Carlisle never actually played with the band, owing to her being sidelined by a bout of mononucleosis for an extended period, and she was replaced by her friend Donna Rhia, real name: Becky Barton, who played three gigs and recorded their first single. Carlisle remained a friend and helper of the band throughout (she can be heard introducing the band on the Germicide: Live At The Whiskey recording, as produced by Kim Fowley), only leaving because her new band, the Go-Go's was becoming popular and, as she put it, "I was really disturbed by the heroin that was going on."[4]

Umm ... hold on a minute here. Did Wikipedia mean to tell me that the sweet pop princess responsible for "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" used to hang out with ... Darby Crash? Meaning, if you went up to Belinda Carlisle and asked her, "So what do you think about Darby Crash," instead of saying, "Who the hell is that?" like any reasonable person would expect her to say, she would say, "Oh yeah, we were friends back in the late '70s."

No. Way.

"Dottie Danger"?

This was good. This was really too good.

OK, you're saying, big deal. So the lead singer of the Go-Go's used to be in some punk rock band. But you don't understand. You don't know what this means.

For starters, it means that not only had Belinda Carlisle been a genuine punk rocker; she had been in one of the most "punk" punk bands in all of Los Angeles! At one point, she had been more "punk" than people who actually cared about being considered "punk"!

This instantly became my favorite piece of celebrity trivia of all time, trumping other former champions such as:

* Waylon Jennings played with Buddy Holly, and almost ended up on the plane that crashed with Holly, Richie Valens and the Big Bopper on it!

* Shirley MacLaine and Warren Beatty are actually brother and sister!

* Neil Young and Rick James were once in the same band together, before either had become famous!

* Al Gore and Tommy Lee Jones were college roommates!

Now, those are all amazing and weird, but ... Belinda Carlisle in the Germs! This was more than just a mere piece of "trivia." I was not content to simply let this go. No, readers, I smelled blood. I needed answers. How does someone go from being in the Germs to being ... Gloria Estefan? Listening to her solo career, you'd think she'd never even touched a germ in her life. It would be like someone coming up to me and telling me, "Hey, did you know that Debbie Gibson used to be in the Circle Jerks?" Why no. No I did not.

In other words, you don't simply end up in the Germs by accident. My God, this changed everything. My assumptions about Belinda Carlisle's personality needed to be vastly reassessed. Why, anyone who could be in the Germs must also possess some awareness of the darker, edgier side of life. This was not apparent in Carlisle's solo career. At all. In any way. She wasn't some "mainstream rocker"; she was Whitney Houston - without the grit. It's like sitting next to the boring preppie girl in English class who has a boring preppie boyfriend, and then one day you peak into her backpack and you see DVDs of Taxi Driver and A Clockwork Orange in there. Wait a minute, she's not supposed to know about those kinds of movies.

Why, if I lived in a world where Belinda Carlisle could have been in the Germs, then ... maybe I wasn't quite so alone after all.

Thus began the Great Belinda Carlisle Mystery of 2011.

Most punk musicians were actively against mainstream pop. To them, punk wasn't just a musical style; it was also a political point of view. Most punk rockers thought long and hard about the direction of their careers - whether what they were doing was ethical, whether it was culturally challenging, etc. etc.

Most, not all.

And yes, many artists who started out in the punk world eventually crossed over into the Top 40. But not, as far as I know, quite so thoroughly. Indeed, the Go-Go's are one of three artists to appear on both the Pitchfork 500 and my '80s Tape (the other two are David Bowie and Hall & Oates). Also, not too many artists from the L.A. punk scene eventually graced mainstream radio. With New York and London punk it was much more common: Blondie, Talking Heads, The Clash, Billy Idol - hell, even Patti Smith had a Top 40 hit! But L.A. punk was hardcore. I'm amazed anyone from that scene actually wanted to go pop. And Belinda Carlisle didn't just go "pop." That's like saying Tarantino movies are "violent."

I suppose if I knew Belinda Carlisle back in her punk days and watched her dive headfirst into the cheese, I might have called her some sort of sell out. Instead, because I originally thought of her as a tame pop singer and then discovered that she used to be a wild punk rocker, I suddenly thought she was awesome, and getting even more awesome by the minute. Besides, one of the most annoying aspects of punk culture is its obsession with "purity" and "authenticity."

Still, I wanted to know: why? Why would a singer so committed to punk rock go so thoroughly ... yuppie? After further research, I came across my potential answer.

The Go-Go's Were A Punk Band (?!)

2012-01-14T21:30:00.000-08:00

So here is how much, until approximately a year ago, I knew about the Go-Go's.

The Go-Go's were the first all-female rock band. Not really, but they were the first all-female rock band that anybody gave a shit about, ie. to have major commercial success in the United States and be treated like other, male, rock bands. Popular music had been littered with female rock performers for decades, but never had there been a band composed entirely of females who played all their own instruments and wrote all their own material, and were also, you know, good.

The Go-Go's are often linked and/or confused with the Bangles, the other major all-female rock band of the '80s. While the Bangles were, I would say, equally successful and equally important, the Go-Go's preceded them by several years. Nonetheless, many casual observers have failed to keep the two bands straight. When I rediscovered The '80s Tape and asked my father if he knew the name of the band singing "Head Over Heels," he said, "Oh! This is ... wait, it's either the Bangles or the Go-Go's, I could never remember which was which. And there was Susanna Hoffs and there was Belinda Carlisle, and I think Susanna Hoffs was in the Go-Go's, and Belinda Carlisle was in the Bangles." After doing some quick research of my own, I learned that the song was by The Go-Go's, and that, well, my father had the lead singers backwards. I'm almost positive that he would make the same mistake if I asked him today.

In 1996, I bought a useful CD-ROM created by Microsoft named Music Central. Music Central was sort of like a proto-All Music Guide. In addition to containing album reviews and track listings, the disc also contained about 30 short film clips. Imagine watching brief little videos - on your own computer! One of these film clips was of the Go-Go's performing "We Got The Beat" on the Old Grey Whistle Test. I have found the full performance on YouTube:

I must admit that, at the time, I did not find the clip too impressive. "What was the hell is this?" I thought to myself. "Cheerleader rock?" I had just begun to discover other New Wave artists such as Talking Heads and The Clash, and "We Got The Beat" did not seem as significant or complex as the music of those bands. I wondered if rock critics had overstated the Go-Go's' significance, simply because they were an all-female band, and everybody thought that was so cool? The first thing any reviewer said about the Go-Go's was a comment about their gender, not their music. I didn't care whether they were all girls or all robots or all sex dwarves; was the music any good?

On the other hand, "Head Over Heels" was one of my absolute favorite songs on a tape already full of favorite songs, so I could not dismiss the band based on one clip of "We Got The Beat" alone. That said, a lot of famous bands have released only one song that I really like.

Matters were complicated by AMG's recommendations. First of all, no Go-Go's album received five stars. Stephen Thomas Erlewine's review of their first album, Beauty And The Beat, was highly complimentary, but did he give the album five stars? No. As if I had time for these four-and-a-half star albums! And in his review of their Greatest Hits, he wrote:

"As a brief overview, Greatest Hits is adequate since it does contain all the hit singles, but it's also misleading, since it doesn't capture the group's punky spirit. Nevertheless, it's a cheaper, more manageable introduction than the double-disc set Return To The Valley Of The Go-Go's, even though serious fans should choose that collection instead."

Well, I wasn't exactly a "serious" fan who was willing to hear two discs of Go-Go's, but I didn't want to hear a collection that was merely "adequate" either. This was all too much of a bother. Maybe someday I would listen to a Go-Go's greatest hits album, but I wasn't in any hurry.

Fast-forward many years later to my exploration of The Pitchfork 500, which included, somewhat to my surprise, the Go-Go's "Our Lips Are Sealed." "Well," I thought, "if Pitchfork thinks the Go-Go's were important, maybe I should think so too."

Although "Our Lips Are Sealed" was apparently a huge hit in the early '80s, I had never heard this song in my entire life. After listening to it, I had to concede that, unlike "We Got The Beat," I ... kinda liked it. I still didn't understand why rock critics might have considered it "significant" or "groundbreaking." On the surface it was a fun, retro, early '60s girl group song that didn't strive toward anything profound, but I felt like the band was fully aware of this and was delivering the cutesy sentiments with a sly wink. I got the impression of a group that was deliberately putting the listener on, sort of "playing innocent," concealing their true persona. It had an air of mystery to it. Maybe a Go-Go's hits collection wouldn't be such a chore after all.

I checked AMG again, and Erlewine's original review of Return To The Valley Of The Go-Go's had been replaced by an equally enthusiastic review from Ned Raggett, a writer not known for enjoying mainstream pop:

Of all the various best-ofs and compilations that have come out over time that cover the Go-Go's career, this one is the clearest winner, by a long shot ... the first 11 tracks alone make for an entertaining peek into the band's earliest days, with a slew of live cuts from both early rehearsals and gigs, including a number of songs taped at the legendary SF punk venue the Mabuhay Gardens. Everything's rough, energetic, and merry fun -- while it's no surprise why some compositions remained unheard in later years, it's still worth hearing how the group pureed everything from straight-up punk to spaghetti Western guitar and girl group right from the start.

"All right," I announced to myself. "Two discs of Go-Go's. Let's do it."

But what was all this talk about "punk"? Indeed, in Erlewine's little band bio, he wrote that "the group was an integral part of the Californian punk scene. And they did play punk rock, even if many of their rougher edges were ironed out by the time they recorded their first album, 1981's Beauty and the Beat."

Well, sure, a lot of New Wave bands played "punk," but that doesn't mean they sounded like The Ramones and The Damned. Hell, The Police were nominally considered "punk" at one point, usually by people who didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

So one unsuspecting day, while coming home from work, I started listening to the first disc of Return to the Valley of the Go-Go's. And, readers, I must tell you what I heard.

I heard ... punk.

It sounded like punk. It didn't sound like "Police" level punk, it sounded like ... "punk" punk. It sounded like the Dead Kennedys, or Black Flag. Not only was it punk, it was pretty good punk. And the song titles were punk: "Screaming," "Fun With Ropes," "Blades," "Johnny Are You Queer." I mean whoa, wait a second here. Hold the phone. When did this happen?

In passing, one might think that the notion of The Go-Go's having started out as a genuine punk band might not be so unusual. They are widely known as a New Wave band, and, as I was well aware, New Wave and punk essentially went hand in hand. But still, something wasn't quite right with this picture.

What about the band's aforementioned lead singer, one Belinda Carlisle? I had vague recollections of a certain late '80s solo career that was not very - how shall we say this - not very ... punk. "Mad About You," "Circle In The Sand," "I Get Weak," and what may very well be the catchiest pop song of all time, "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" - the mere titles alone instantly conjuring up a long ago world of pure, shameless, summery pop perfection.

After fully absorbing the Go-Go's collection, suddenly I had a bad hankering for what were, as far as the rock critic in me was concerned, these highly inconsequential and disposable Top 40 hits. Looking over my shoulder, I downloaded Her Greatest Hits. My God, it hit the spot.

Still, I was unable to reconcile the information in front of me. On the totem pole of late '80s pop music credibility, Belinda Carlisle was perhaps a couple of notches below George Michael, and a couple of notches above Rick Astley. Not only did I find it hard to believe that she had ever been a "punk" rocker of any kind; I found it hard to believe that someone like her would have even known what punk was.

Truth be told, I didn't know very much about her. Carlisle's career seemed to be a minor one, of negligible scholarly interest. Was she quirky, was she boring, was she intelligent, was she shallow? Who, precisely, was this former "punk" singer?

Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe the Go-Go's had started out as a punk band, but Belinda Carlisle hadn't been one of the original members. Maybe she was one of those people who found her way into the punk scene "accidentally," but wasn't a serious, committed punk. And just as the Go-Go's started moving toward a more commercial sound and were about to make it big, she finally joined at the last minute. That at least might make some sense. Yes, surely that was it.

Oh, how wrong I was.

How to Critique Modern Art

2012-01-12T14:24:00.001-08:00

Regarding the new Damien Hurst art shows (colored dots on canvases), Roberta Smith writes in the NYTimes:

"The fluctuations in quality is itself a kind of affirmation of the whole idea of quality."

Some of his paintings are shitty, so that reaffirms the idea that some paintings are better than others.

This is why people (not me, I actually like it) make fun of contemporary visual art.

P.S. - shouldn't that be "the fluctuations... *are*... a kind of..."

Duran Duran's Best Song Wasn't A Single?

2012-01-10T19:32:00.000-08:00

I don't remember hearing Duran Duran songs as a child. Later, when people would say, "Oh man, remember the 80s? Remember Duran Duran?," I had to admit that I didn't exactly.

For a long time I got Duran Duran mixed up with Depeche Mode, and I wasn't the only one; I remember looking at a friend's mix tape in the late 90s, and on the back of the case, she'd credited "Enjoy The Silence" to Duran Duran. Both groups used synthesizers, both groups' names consisted of two words, and both groups' names began with "D." But I later realized that Depeche Mode and Duran Duran were very different bands.

When I finally did hear songs like "Rio" and "Hungry Like The Wolf," I was hard-pressed to define their appeal. Guess I just had to be there? With Duran Duran, I think the videos might have taken precedence over the music itself; according to member Nick Rhodes, "Video is to us like stereo was to Pink Floyd." Well that's all well and good, but I can't "listen" to frilly shirts and Sri Lanka now, can I? On its own, the music sounded kind of thin and brittle. There wasn't enough bottom. It was like dance music that I couldn't really dance to.

Now that all varieties of '80s pop music have grown on me like a fungus, I find Duran Duran (made up of Simon Le Bon and twelve guys named Taylor) somewhat more appealing. Is it just me, or did Michael Jackson nick the verse melody of "Black Or White" from "Hungry Like The Wolf"?

Still, I laughed a little bit on the inside when I saw that Pitchfork had included a Duran Duran song on the Pitchfork 500. Come on, were they really all that "significant"? And they went with an obscure Rio album track called "The Chauffer"? Jesus, Pitchfork, quit trying so hard. Then I actually listened to "The Chauffer," and a funny thing happened: I liked it.

From Wikipedia:

In May 1980, while the band were working for Paul and Michael Berrow, who at the time ran the Rum Runner night club in Birmingham, one of the Rum Runner bar maids recommended her ex-boyfriend to be their new lead singer. Simon Le Bon auditioned in May 1980, bringing with him a book of poetry and lyrics, including the lyrics to the song which would eventually become "The Chauffer."[2]

Try this on for size:

Out on the tar planes the glides are moving
All looking for a new place to drive
You sit beside me so newly charming
Sweating dew drops glisten freshen your side

And the sun drips down bedding heavy behind
The front of your dress all shadowy lined
And the droning engines throb in time
With your beating heart

Way down the lane away living for another day
The aphids swarm up in the drifting haze
Swim seagull in the sky towards that hollow western isle
My envied lady holds you fast in her gaze

And watching lovers part I feel you smiling
What glass splinters lie so deep in your mind
To tear out from your eyes with a thought to stiffen brooding lies
And I'll only watch you leave me further behind

For Duran Duran, this was pretty weird! He's mixing up "sun," "drips," "drops," "glisten," shadowy," "haze" - the jumble of imagery is impressive. How can a seagull "swim"? How can a "plane" drive? Simon Le Bon, you're blowing my mind!

Top it all off with a heavily phased spoken word sample at the end a la "I Am The Walrus," and the track is almost - dare I say it - uncommercial.

Now that I thought about it, I had to admit that I probably liked this song more than Duran Duran's actual hits from the period. Hell, if I'd heard songs like "The Chauffer" earlier, I might not have made fun of them so much. It's not even on their Greatest Hits. There are a lot of bands whose best songs weren't singles, but I didn't think Duran Duran would be one of those bands. (I'm excluding from this "best" designation their two excellent '90s comeback singles, "Ordinary World" and "Come Undone," which in my mind are almost part of a different career.)

But to conclude that "The Chauffer" was Duran Duran's best song would be to ... agree with Pitchfork! Oh God, what had I done? In the end, I had to grit my teeth and admit that, however reluctantly, Pitchfork might have actually been on to something.

Then there's the video, which according to Wikipedia was "inspired in part by Liliana Cavani's 1974 film, The Night Porter, and the photography of Helmut Newton":

A woman in an erotic costume is driven in a vintage car by a uniformed chauffeur. Elsewhere, another woman dresses herself carefully in lingerie and walks through the streets of London towards a rendezvous in an abandoned multi-storey car park. The chauffeur watches while a third woman (Perri Lister), a topless blonde in an open-bust corset, performs a sensuous dance to the accompaniment of the instrumental coda of the song — clearly an homage to Charlotte Rampling's topless "Dance of the Seven Veils" in The Night Porter.

Oh, clearly. I wonder why this didn't get played too often on MTV.

"The Chauffer" may be the rare instance of an '80s music video that doesn't look dated in any noticeable way. I mean, if Duran Duran had put this much effort into their actual music, we might be having a different conversation here. I'm always down for some weird, European, upper class kinky sex; add in the black and white cinematography and we're all set. But I just imagine some innocent guy trying to get into his car and thinking, "Whoa man, I must have ended up in the wrong parking lot."

ABC: What '80s Roxy Music Wanted To Sound Like But Didn't?

2012-01-06T13:58:00.000-08:00

In 1982, Roxy Music released their final album, Avalon. It was fairly popular and, although very different from the band's earlier material, still critically praised. Stephen Thomas Erlewine has called it "one of their finest albums" and "another landmark in their career." For my part, I've never really thought much of it; I find the album somewhat dated and lifeless. Not that I don't think Roxy Music could have made great, somewhat more commercial music in the early 80s. But Avalon wasn't it. If they'd wanted to go in this direction, they should have made an album more like ... ABC's The Lexicon Of Love!

Imagine David Bowie and Bryan Ferry making hot glam rock love (honestly, is it really so out of the question?) and conceiving a child; that child would be ABC lead singer Martin Fry. Whereas Bowie and Ferry were starting to go through the motions by 1982, as far as Fry was concerned, no one had ever sung a tongue-in-cheek love song before.

I mean just compare this:

with this:

Does Roxy Music have any parrots, puppets, or ballerinas in its video? ABC wins.

I was surprised by how much I liked the band's first album, The Lexicon Of Love (produced by a post-Buggles/pre-Frankie Goes To Hollywood Trevor Horn), which I think pulls off an impressive feat: it manages to simultaneously poke fun at the crooning British lounge lizard style without actually succumbing to insincerity or irony (imagine saying that about Bowie or Roxy Music!). Fry may be putting us on, but he also doesn't deny the magic of the kind of pop music he is supposedly lampooning. He's like a great Audrey Hepburn movie: yes, I've seen this plot many times before, but it's so witty and charming I can't help but be smitten all over again.

For instance: I've dissected the lyrics to "The Look Of Love," and although on a casual listen I feel like I know what the song is about, upon closer inspection, I'm not sure the song is actually about anything. But Fry's rhymes are so clever and his singing is so impassioned, the song's "true" meaning almost resides outside the lyrics:

When your girl has left you out on the pavement (goodbye)
Then your dreams fall apart at the seams
Your reason for living's your reason for leaving
Don't ask me what it means

Who got the look
I don't know the answer to that question
Where's the look
If I knew I would tell you
What's the look
Look for your information
Yes there's one thing, the one thing that still holds true
What's that

That's the look, that's the look
The look of love
That's the look, that's the look
The look of love
That's the look, that's the look
The look of love

Sounds great, except ... what the hell is "the look of love"? What are you talking about? You're just making stuff up! In the end, it's a pop song about pop songs. And Fry doesn't need to pull out the thesaurus in order to do it (I'm looking at you, Elvis Costello).

Also: listen to the keyboard melody around the 2:22 mark. Is it just me, or do I hear a little bit of "Holiday" in there? Looks like Madonna may have lifted the hook of love.

Adam Ant Based His Whole Career Off Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk"?

2012-01-02T19:01:00.000-08:00

In 1979, Fleetwood Mac recorded the song "Tusk," which they released on the album of the same name. An odd song by Fleetwood Mac standards, "Tusk" consisted of tribal drumming, off-kilter chants of the title word, and a guest appearance by the USC Trojan Marching Band. Most people probably heard this song and thought it was quirky and different. Adam Ant must have heard this song and decided to base his entire recording career around it.

Apparently, Adam Ant's whole sound was a "thundering, infectious Burundi drum beat." He also dressed up like a cross between a pirate and a Native American. For a couple of years in England, Ant was huge, scoring several Top Ten hits, including the #1's "Stand and Deliver," Prince Charming," and "Goody Two Shoes." Pitchfork included his 1980 song "Kings of the Wild Frontier" in The Pitchfork 500. I'd always heard a lot about Adam Ant without actually having heard Adam Ant. After finally listening to him, I can kind of understand why.

I'll say this: Adam Ant certainly created a style of his own. No one else sounds like Adam Ant. That may be his gift and his curse. On a dark and lonely night, when I need music to comfort my restless soul, I don't think I would put on some Adam Ant.

I like his videos, though, which are zany and ridiculous. And very English.

The problem with Adam Ant is that he doesn't really have any ... depth. Adam Ant is like the Rolling Stones, if the Rolling Stones could only do "Jumpin' Jack Flash," and not also be able to do, say, "Ruby Tuesday," or "Gimme Shelter," or "You Can't Always Get What You Want," or "Sympathy For The Devil."

Perhaps if he'd based his entire recording career off "The Edge of Seventeen," Adam Ant might have had better luck.

"Sex Dwarf" Didn't Get Marc Almond Imprisoned?

2011-12-30T20:24:00.000-08:00

I wasn't too surprised to learn that Marc Almond is gay. But after spending some time with Soft Cell, I have to say that "gay" doesn't quite cover it. Marc Almond isn't just gay; the man is flaming like an Olympic torch.

Almond is like that kid in Drama class who simply loves being up on stage. He doesn't care whether you're laughing with him or laughing at him; he just wants your attention.

In his AMG review of Soft Cell's debut album Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret, William Ruhlmann writes:

At full album length, lyricist Almond's primary preoccupation, only suggested in "Tainted Love," was spelled out; this was a theme album about aberrant sexuality, a tour of a red-light district ... The insistent beats taken at steady dance tempos and the chilling electronic sounds conjured by Ball emphasized Almond's fascination with deviance; it almost seemed as though the album had been designed to be played in topless bars. British listeners saw through Almond's pretense or were amused by him, or both; more puritanical Americans tended to disapprove, which probably limited the group's long-term success stateside.

Count me among the amused. You may have already seen him preening and prancing in the "Tainted Love" video, dressed as a Greek god on Mount Olympus, taunting little girls like the Wicked Witch of the West. In the clip for "Bedsitter," Almond is clearly overjoyed to have discovered that, oh my God, there's a camera on me!

Then there's "What," which was apparently filmed in a Mondrian painting.

Oh, and he was also on Ecstasy:

During 1982, the duo spent most of their time recording and relaxing in New York City, where they met a woman named Cindy Ecstasy whom Almond would later confirm was his drug supplier (it was Cindy Ecstasy who introduced them to the new nightclub drug of the same name). The duo released a second album, a 6-track mini album entitled Non-stop Ecstatic Dancing which contained remixes of older material along with their new hit single "What!". Almond would later admit that the album was recorded and mixed under the influence of ecstasy.[8]

Never underestimate the power of a gay man on Ecstasy. Because nothing can prepare the unsuspecting listener for a pleasant little ditty known as "Sex Dwarf." AMG's Greg Prato writes:

"Sex Dwarf" is a sleazy anthem that features plodding keyboards, aggressive drums, and one of the ugliest vocal performances committed to record. It isn't that Marc Almond has a death metal throat, but instead it's the way he creeps and crawls over the track like a perverted lounge singer.

"Sex Dwarf" is the sound of Marc Almond rolling around in his own sleaze and smearing it all over himself lustily. Apparently there is even "an alternate cut of 'Sex Dwarf' on which singer Marc Almond appears to simulate a female orgasm with his voice." Is that so?

Now, I'm about to post the infamous music video for "Sex Dwarf," but first I want you to simply listen to it. Close your eyes and step inside "Sex Dwarf." You may have to wash yourself afterwards. The thing is, I can understand the female voice whispering "Sexxxx Dwaaaarf," but I still can't quite wrap my head around the peculiar male voice that follows with his own oddly pitched "Sexxxx Dwaaaarf." Is this the actual Sex Dwarf speaking? And just what is a Sex Dwarf, anyway? Is it different from just a regular old dwarf? Don't regular dwarfs have sex?

Ah, but all those questions take a back seat when confronted with the "Sex Dwarf" video, which, according to Wikipedia, "was banned for explicit, S&M-related content." Fortunately, YouTube is here to save the day. I now present, in all its glory, the original music video for Soft Cell's "Sex Dwarf," which features David Ball running around with a chain saw, topless women gyrating awkwardly on the floor, butchered meat being splattered all over the walls, and, obviously, a dwarf. But a word of warning: once you watch the "Sex Dwarf" video, you may never be the same again.

Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" Was A Cover Version?

2011-12-26T11:19:00.000-08:00

Do a Google search on 80s One Hit Wonders, and the first thing that will probably come up is Soft Cell's "Tainted Love." Actually, I just tried that, and it didn't come up. But anyway.

One surprising tidbit about Soft Cell, a duo consisting of singer Marc Almond and synthesizer player David Ball, is that they weren't really one hit wonders at all.

Guys, I just discovered something amazing, you're not going to believe it: America isn't actually the center of the world! Did you know that there are other countries in the world besides America? Like, there's this one that's called "England"? Well, apparently, in this "England," all those 80s bands that we've always thought of as One Hit Wonders (Madness, Gary Numan, Dexy's Midnight Runners, a-ha) actually had long, healthy careers. Guess the British public didn't get the memo that they needed to stop buying those artists' records, because the American pop culture zeitgeist had permanently and irrevocably deemed them One Hit Wonders, and that was that.

Nevertheless, while "Tainted Love" was far from Soft Cell's only UK hit, it was certainly the biggest. Come on, sing it with me:

Now I know I've got to -

CLAP CLAP

Run away, I've got to -

CLAP CLAP -

Get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me

And nothing beats that BART car "doors are closing" percussion sound. But the real surprise about "Tainted Love" is that it wasn't written by Soft Cell. It wasn't even written by one of their contemporaries. Listening to the original version of "Tainted Love," you have to wonder how Soft Cell even got the idea to record it in the style they did in the first place:

Whoa. How did we get from that to this?

Gloria Jones' version is a pure mid-60s soul stomper in the mold of Solomon Burke's "Everybody Needs Somebody To Love." Soft Cell's version is ... well, it's hard to say exactly.

In his AMG biography of Gloria Jones, Richie Unterberger refers to Soft Cell's cover version as "wimpy." This strikes me as an inaccurate way to describe Soft Cell's rendition. Unterberger tends to be heavily biased against all mainstream pop music made after 1971, so the adjective he uses is not surprising, and reveals why he is probably not the best writer to be writing about post-60s pop (which, to his credit, he usually doesn't). Soft Cell's version of "Tainted Love" may be more "robotic," more "white," more "trashy," more "artificial," but it's not exactly "wimpy." If anything, compared to most of the pop singles of 1981, it's rather lean and mean. Christopher Cross covering "Tainted Love" would be wimpy. Toto covering "Tainted Love" would be wimpy. One thing's for sure though: the way Marc Almond sings it, the "love" described in the lyrics certainly sound a lot more "tainted."

The fact that "Tainted Love" is actually an old soul song finally explains why Soft Cell paired it together in a medley with The Supremes' "Where Did Our Love Go." I used to hear this version on the radio and I would think to myself, "Hmm, OK, that's a completely random segue right there." In reality, it was perfectly thematic. Unfortunately for Soft Cell, because they'd written neither song, they didn't receive any songwriting royalties. And this was their biggest hit! From Wikipedia:

Usually, an artist releasing a cover version as a single would opt to write the song that appears on the B-side as this would still entitle the artist to some songwriting royalties stemming from sales of that single. However, as Soft Cell wrote neither "Tainted Love" nor "Where Did Our Love Go" (the 7" B-side track), they lost the opportunity to make a greater sum of money from songwriting royalties stemming from one of the most popular songs of the 1980s. Almond expressed regret for this in his book, and attributed the error to naïveté.

Well, Marc Almond may have been naive in the ways of the music business, but, as we shall soon see, he was not quite so naive in the ways of love.

The Human League Hated "Don't You Want Me"?

2011-12-22T18:13:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, I was watching one of those VH1 "Top 100 Songs Of The '80s" specials or something of that ilk (Zrbo knows this story well), and suddenly Elton John appeared in a clip: "So I was driving on a country road in England one night and this song came on the radio and ... it just blew me away. I pulled over to the side of the road just so I could listen to this killer song."

Those throbbing drum machines. The way that incessant keyboard riff hits a series of extra rapid notes just as the verse begins. The bridge to end all bridges. Every element instantly conjures up some dank, dingy European night club smothered in strobe lights. This baby all but screams out "Worldwide #1 Hit."

The thrill that Elton John felt on that country road in 1981 must have been echoed by pretty much everybody else the first time they heard "Don't You Want Me." Everybody, that is, except the Human League. From Wikipedia:

The lyrics were originally inspired after lead singer Philip Oakey read a story in a "trashy US tabloid". Originally conceived and recorded in the studio as a male solo, Oakey was inspired by the film A Star Is Born and decided to turn the song into a conflicting duet with one of the band’s two teenage female vocalists. Susan Ann Sulley was then asked to take on the role. Up until then, she and the other female vocalist Joanne Catherall had only been assigned backing vocals; Sulley says she was chosen only through "luck of the draw".[3] Musicians Jo Callis and Philip Adrian Wright created a synthesizer score to accompany the lyrics which was much harsher than the version that was actually released. Initial versions of the song were recorded but Virgin Records-appointed producer Martin Rushent was unhappy with them. He and Callis remixed the track, giving it a softer, and in Oakey's opinion, "poppy" sound. Oakey hated the new version and thought it the weakest track on Dare!, resulting in one of his infamous rows with Rushent.[4] Oakey disliked it so much that it was relegated to the last track on the B side of the (then) vinyl album.

Before the release of Dare!, two of its tracks—"The Sound of the Crowd" and "Love Action (I Believe in Love)"—had already been released as successful singles. To promote the new album, Virgin released "Open Your Heart" in October 1981, which hit #6 in the UK Singles Chart. With a hit album and three hit singles in a row, Virgin's Chief Exectutive Simon Draper decided to release one more single from the album before the end of 1981. His choice, "Don't You Want Me", instantly caused a row with Oakey who did not want another single to be released because he was convinced that "the public were now sick of hearing The Human League" and the choice of the "poor quality filler track" would almost certainly be a disaster, wrecking the group's new found popularity. Virgin were adamant that a fourth single would be released and Oakey finally agreed on the condition that a large colour poster accompany the 7" single, because he felt fans would "feel ripped off" by the "substandard" single alone.[5]

"Don't You Want Me" was released in the UK on 27 November 1981. To the amazement of the band (and especially Oakey[6]), it shot to number one on the UK charts. This success was repeated six months later in the U.S., with "Don't You Want Me" hitting #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 for three weeks. Billboard magazine ranked it as the sixth-biggest hit of 1982. The single was certified Gold by the RIAA the same year for sales of a million copies. Today, the song is widely considered a classic of its era. Oakey still describes it as overrated, but acknowledges his initial dismissal was misguided and claims pride in the track.

Umm ... yeah, it's kind of overrated, aside from being, you know, your best song. Sure, I've got a copy of Dare! (known among my friends as the last album that rock critic Lester Bangs listened to before he died - which raises the question: did he find Dare!'s dissimilarity to his treasured '60s guitar-based rock so terrible that it ultimately killed him?). The first nine songs are cute, they're pleasant, and then I get to Track 10, and it's simply in a whole different ... if you'll excuse the expression ... league. Philip, buddy, it's not even a contest. How about this: maybe you could write some more songs that you don't like and then record them, please?

Also, Susan Ann Sulley was 17? No wonder why their relationship sounds so convincingly sketchy. I love it when Oakey sings, "But don't forget it's me who put you where you are now/And I can put you back down too," and then he follows that up with "Don't, don't you want me?" Like, "You're my little bitch and you'll do whatever I want. Hey, why don't you like me?" Hmm, maybe I could give you a hint?

Zrbo's 5 Favorite Songs Of The Year

2011-12-20T14:20:00.001-08:00

Can you guess which one isn't from 2011?

Here we are again folks, the end of another year means it's time to start rolling out the 'best-of' lists. Let's take a walk down memory lane to see what songs I most enjoyed from the past year. These might not necessarily be the best songs of the year, just the ones I found myself listening to again and again. I guarantee at least one surprise.

Lady Gaga - "The Edge of Glory"

Ok, so I like Lady Gaga, can you really fault me? After all, I was somewhat obsessed with Madonna about a decade ago, and since Lady Gaga is basically the modern day equivalent (though don't tell that to Gaga apparently) you can see why I might like her. Though I didn't find her newest album to be as good as I had hoped, I've still managed to find myself liking at least a few of the new songs, The Edge of Glory being one. I first heard this song when Lady Gaga performed it on American Idol while wearing some sort of amazonian inspired headdress while perched on top of a giant wall making love to some dancer/model before committing mock suicide (sounds about right). The song starts innocently enough, but really gets good once she starts ratcheting up the intensity with "I'm on the edge with you.. with you... WITH YOU!!!". Throw in some deliciously 80s sax courtesy of the late Clarence Clemons right before he passed away, and you have a great little pop song. Surprisingly, this isn't really one of my favorite LG videos, I prefer to just listen to it, but here's the fairly tame video for your viewing pleasure.

Michael McCann - "Icarus"

It's well established here that I'm a big videogame fan, so here's the obligatory videogame bit. Taken from this year's Deus Ex: Human Revolution, sequel to one of the greatest games of all time, Icarus is just a fantastic bit of cyberpunk inspired music that still manages to send chills down my spine every time I hear it. The music just oozes style, perfectly fitting the technological dystopia of the near future found in the game. It might also help that I'm currently reading Snow Crash. Best part - I haven't even gotten around to playing the game yet.

Sergio Mendes - "Alibis"

I mean this completely un-ironically. Ever since fellow blogger Little Earl posted this song in his 80s mix tape series I've had this song inexplicably stuck in my noggin. Sure, it's definitely not from 2011, but it doesn't mean that a 25+ year old gem can't sneak it's way onto the list. It's just deliciously infectious without needing all that signal processing that's meant to get your attention, and Joe Pizzulo's voice is so, so smooth. To top it off, this video is such a great relic from a different time. I've constantly found myself singing this song out loud as I go about my daily business. Damn, I might have to go listen to it again right now.

VNV Nation - "Space & Time"

It's a year in which a new VNV Nation came out; ergo, a VNV track must appear in my list. The lead off track from VNV Nation's album Automatic, this song is so very quintessentially VNV while also managing to be something very different. There's the inclusion of electro-harpsichords, Ronan Harris' voice is more 'punchier' than ever (it sounds like he's eating those opening lines), and there's even the vaguest hint of something approaching dubstep during the break (without delving into it so much as to sound like he's riding the fad). All in all, a great track from a great album.

And the winner is...(drumroll)...

Within Temptation - "Faster"

When I first heard this song earlier this year I literally (not figuratively) stopped in disbelief at what I was hearing. This was Within Temptation, the same symphonic metal band I had heard back in the early 2000s when I was living in Germany - the band that had that hokey looking Pagan-metal aesthetic? I wasn't even aware they were still around. The only song of theirs I still listened to was their cover of Kate Bush's Running up that Hill (also with the hokey Pagan-metal aesthetic). Now here they were with a video that actually looked professionally made and sounded good - really good.

A little Internet research later I learned that not only is Within Temptation still around, but they've become the biggest musical export out of the Netherlands (what does that say about a country's music when their most popular band does metal - imagine them nestled up there on the chart next to Beyonce and Kanye).

Apparently in the intervening years since I left Europe they've been working hard, pushing out a slew of albums. Their latest album, The Unforgiving, is actually pretty damn good. They took their sound in a more mainstream direction, something that I think works greatly to their benefit. It's also a dreaded concept album with characters and a plot, complete with an entire comic book (sorry, graphic novel) series penned by some actual known guys in the biz. I've watched the entire accompanying short film that goes along with the album and it isn't terribly good. But this song, Faster, just rocks my socks off.

Sounding like it should be featured during the credits of some Jerry Bruckheimer film accompanied by explosions, Faster not only rocks, but the video looks good too. Lead singer Sharon den Adel is just an amazing bombshell to look at (can you believe she just finished two back-to-back pregnancies?), with gorgeous eyes the likes which haven't been seen since Susanna Hoffs from the Bangles. Where on earlier albums her voice could occasionally sound shrill (waif metal? - did I just invent a new genre?), here she sounds much more confident and sultry. You can't even detect a hint of a Dutch accent, almost like she's been taking vocal lessons from a country music artist.

An energizing rocker all around, this one is great to listen to while driving, though a little dangerous. It's my top pick for 2011.

Runners-up:

Rebecca Black - Friday: It's like an anti-song critique of everything wrong with pop music nowadays, yet it's somehow stupidly infectious.

VNV Nation - Streamline: I initially thought this song was a bit of filler, but it's grown on me more than any other song on Automatic. Everything after the first chorus is sheer bliss.

Within Temptation - Sinead: Here's WT doing what's essentially a dance song, far removed from anything metal. I love the concept for this video - they're the band playing in the nightclub where a scene from the album's story is taking place.

Little Earl's Fun New Wave Surprises

2011-12-16T19:55:00.000-08:00

I love punk. But I love New Wave more. New Wave is like punk with all the good stuff thrown back in.

They're basically the same genre, when it comes down to it. You can't talk about New Wave without talking about punk. But I am going to try.

I could not adequately discuss the cultural significance and musical legacy of punk without dedicating several blogs to the topic. Instead, I am just going to post this link:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Punk_rock

Hell, while I'm at it, let's do the same thing for New Wave:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Wave_music

Now let me bring you up to speed with some videos:

The moral of the story is, soon punk hit the '80s. In my opinion, any '70s punk band who still tried to play punk in the '80s didn't really get it. The point of punk wasn't to play fast, two minute songs with shitty sound quality. The point of punk was to do whatever the hell you wanted to do. And what's more punk than totally selling out? Exactly.

There was a lot I already thought I knew about '80s New Wave. But thanks to The Pitchfork 500, I suddenly made some shocking new discoveries. No, this isn't the last you've heard of Cosby Rock. But please join me, if you will, on a journey I would like to call "Little Earl's Fun New Wave Surprises."

The Spielberg Face

2011-12-14T14:36:00.000-08:00

I almost feel like I should let Little Earl handle this one. Here's a terrific short video on Spielberg and his dramatic use of the close-up face, with the authors going so far to say it's Spielberg's defining technique. Watch and decide for yourself.

"Just" The Ultimate Cosby Rock Anthem

2011-12-11T18:49:00.000-08:00

Like George Benson, Grover Washington, Jr. was a jazz musician who did the crossover dance. Somehow or other, he roped Bill Withers into his game.

Withers had been laying low for quite a while since his peak in the early '70s. Not many soul musicians drew inspiration from folk, but Withers did this and he did it well. "Ain't No Sunshine," "Use Me Up," "Lean On Me" - hating Bill Withers is like hating ice cream. Suddenly, in 1982, on the wings of Grover Washington, Jr.'s sexy sax, Withers' congenial magic filled the airwaves once more.

I don't think any record sleeve so completely captures the spirit of its single the way the record sleeve for "Just The Two Of Us" does. You've got a saxophone, and a glass of wine. It's nighttime. Done.

"Just The Two Of Us" may, in my opinion, be the ultimate Cosby Rock anthem. It is so the epitome of Cosby Rock, a version was even recorded by...Bill Cosby:

"The trailer is like a comedy sketch parodying 'horse films' "

2011-12-07T13:42:00.001-08:00

So there's this movie coming out called "War Horse" directed by Steven Spielberg. You may have heard of him, but have you seen the trailer? It's gotta win the award for hokiest looking piece of schmaltzy Oscar-bait drama I've ever seen. It's just completely unreal. The first time the trailer came on TV me and the wife totally thought we were being set up for a joke, half expecting Jim Carrey to pop out with a reveal for Ace Ventura 3. It would at least be more appropriate.

I delved into the dangerous waters of the IMDB message boards to see if anyone else agreed with me and I came back with the title of this post, ripped straight from a thread made by someone else with a bit of sense. I mean, C'MON, this has got to be parody, right, right?!?

There's just too many awful cliches to count. Luckily, someone on IMDB started counting for me:

- The girl standing up in her car dumbfounded at a horse walking past her like it's the first creature of it's kind to ever walk on earth.
- The single teardrop trailing down the girls face.
- "That's my 'orse!"
- The general sepia tone.
- That shot of the countryside.
- A STEVEN SPIELBERG FILM and the rest of them embarrassing title cards.

I'll add quickly:

- Includes the 'untameable horse' cliche.
- Gratuitous glamor shots of a horse riding in some idyllic countryside.
- Includes British people fighting in war to give everything more gravitas.
- Old man/Werner Herzog lookalike spouting off old-timey wisdom.

By the time the words "This Christmas" appear near the end I just can't take it anymore and double, nay, triple over in laughing. "Stop it, stop it!", I say like when you're being tickled and you can't breathe anymore. It's just SO bad that it's HILARIOUS. The sad part though is that I found more than one thread on IMDB with people saying the trailer brought them to tears. These must be the same people who shop at Wal-Mart and get excited to see Shrek 7: Back in the Shrek. I, for one, will not be seeing this movie, no matter how much praise it may get. Also - HORSES!

George Benson: How Jazz Went Cosby

2011-12-06T19:54:00.000-08:00

Q. What's lamer than a funk musician going pop?

A. A jazz musician going pop.

You see, jazz is already kind of lame as it is, and half the time you're on the border of easy listening, but you think you're all cool and special because you're playing jazz. Better to just abandon any pretense of high art and head straight for the dentist office.

George Benson knows what I'm talking about. In the '60s, Benson was a real, legitimate jazz guitarist. At least that's what people tell me; not knowing the difference between good jazz and shitty jazz myself, I'm just going to have to take everybody's word for it. AllMusic's Richard Ginell writes, "He can play in just about any style -- from swing to bop to R&B to pop -- with supreme taste, a beautiful rounded tone, terrific speed, a marvelous sense of logic in building solos, and, always, an unquenchable urge to swing". You know me, I'm always a sucker for a "rounded tone" and "terrific speed" (wink wink).

But George Benson could do one thing most jazz musicians could not: he could sing. Initially, the man wasn't in a big rush to exploit his vocal prowess. Although he played jazz, he always had a fondness for pop music, doing instrumental versions of AM radio staples like The Monkees' "Last Train To Clarksville," The Association's "Along Comes Mary," and The Mamas & The Papas' "California Dreamin' " in his own groovy way. His 1973 version of Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit" will fuck you up. He even recorded an entire album-length tribute to Abbey Road.

But Benson never fully crossed the line until 1976, when he had a left-field pop hit with a version of Leon Russell's "This Masquerade":

Suddenly, George Benson was a pop star. And he liked it.

I'm pretty sure I heard "Breezin'" somewhere in the background of a Yacht Rock episode:

Then there was his tasty re-make of The Drifters' "On Broadway," which I and many others will forever associate with the opening sequence of All That Jazz:

Yeah, these were pop hits, but they still sounded somewhat like jazz. No, George needed to kick his sell-out phase into high gear. Enter Quincy Jones.

Fresh from the success of Off The Wall, Jones and frequent Michael Jackson songwriter/funkiest Englishman alive Rod Temperton teamed up with Benson for "Give Me The Night." As far as I'm concerned George, the night is all yours:

Suddenly the George Benson guitar sound was everywhere. Listen to the opening notes of "Too Hot" or the solo in "Hello," for instance. Funny thing is, by the time of "Turn Your Love Around," I don't even think Benson was bothering to play guitar on his own recordings:

The metamorphosis into Cosby Rock ... was complete.

Take That, Berkeley!

2011-12-03T18:41:00.000-08:00

Hey, so Berkeley, you think you're all political and protesty and at the forefront of civil rights and everything? Well guess who just completely stole your thunder? UC Davis, that's who. Yeah, safe, calm, inoffensive little UC Davis. That's right. Guess whose protestors are getting pepper sprayed in the face? Not Berkeley's protestors, I can tell you that. Guess whose chancellor is being asked to resign? Not Berkeley's chancellor. Oh yeah.

Sorry Berkeley, you're just yesterday's news. Nobody cares about your pathetic little protests anymore. I mean, when was the last time a protest at Berkeley gave birth to an internet meme (known as "Casually Pepper Spray Cop")? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Hey, Speak For Yourself Lionel, I Didn't Say Anything

2011-11-30T20:27:00.000-08:00

There must have been something about Gregory Hines movies that brought out the best in '80s pop stars. Like Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins before him, Lionel Richie couldn't resist the charms of the Soundtrack Song.

I can see our proverbial studio executive now: "You know what we need? A movie about two ballet dancers! But wait - one of them's Russian, and the other one's American! We'll call it White Nights. Fellas it's a hit! Get me Baryshnikov on the phone! And Hines! And Isabella Rossellini!"

So is "Say You, Say Me" about the Cold War? Lionel better hope so, because as far as I can tell, it's not about anything at all. The melody and production are so powerful, though, nobody really cared. Maybe Lionel caught a glimpse of a majestic dystopian future:

I had a dream, I had an awesome dream
People in the park, playing games in the dark
And what they played was a masquerade
From behind the walls of doubt, a voice was crying out

Maybe it's not about the Cold War, but about the War of the Worlds? The War on Drugs? Will we ever find hope in this cold and heartless world?

Then all of a sudden, the song starts going cray-zay:

So you think you know the answers, oh no
Well the whole world's got you dancing, that's right I'm telling you
Time to start believing, oh yes
In even you who are, you are a shining star

Maybe, just maybe, we can break free from the prison of modern life. But no, the moment of possibility vanishes, and we're back to where we started.

You know, Lionel, just say whatever you want.

Where Kool & The Gang Searingly Chronicle The Breakdown Of All The Marriages They Foolishly Instigated

2011-11-26T14:53:00.000-08:00

So you've taken Kool & The Gang's advice and gotten yourself hitched. A lifetime of joy and marital bliss awaits you, right?

At seventeen we fell in love
High school sweethearts,
love was so brand new
We took the vows of man and wife
Forever, for life
I remember how we made our way
A little patience, the times we prayed
Can't imagine that this love is through
Feelin' the pain, girl when you lose

Wait a second, "This love is through"? But you said...what about...you didn't tell me about this, Kool & The Gang.

Flyin' high we never took the time
To stop and feel the need
Funny how those years go by
Changing you, changing me
I remember love's fever
In our hearts, girl and in our minds
Can't imagine that this love is through
Feelin' the pain, girl when you lose

Oh great, now you tell me. Thanks a lot, Kool & The Gang. As J.T.'s voice soars into the open night, I can practically taste the court papers and child support on my lips:

"It's so so hot baby, yes it's so hot, I just can't take it, I can't stand no more baby, we were once lovers! We took our vows, of man and wife, foreeevaaahhh!"

Well, one man's song about marital troubles is another man's song about safe sex:

While I'm at it, let's not forget Lil' Kim's sampling of "Ladies Night" on her "Not Tonight" remix, featuring Missy Elliott, Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes, Da Brat, Angie Martinez, Mary J. Blige, Queen Latifah, SWV, Total, Xscape ... and basically every female rapper ever.

That might genuinely be too hot for me.

Lionel Goes Country

2011-11-22T19:27:00.000-08:00

We all have certain ambitions in life. Some of us want to run a marathon. Some of us try to climb Mt. Everest. Some of us hope to win an Oscar. Lionel Richie wanted to write a hit country music song.

Other black singers had gone there before. Let's not forget Charley Pride, who managed to sound exactly like a white country singer except, holy shit, he's black.

Ray Charles decided to tackle country on his own terms, performing country songs in an R&B style, ending up with a unique, new kind of genre entirely.

But by the '80s, it had been a while.

Now, if you stop to think about it, country elements had been lying latent in Lionel's songs as far back as "Easy" and "Sail On." But no, "country elements" weren't enough for the man. Lionel wanted to pen an official "country music song." Well, if he couldn't sing it himself, maybe he could get some white guy to do it. Enter Kenny Rogers.

"Lady" wasn't just a #1 country hit, it was also a #1 pop hit. Perhaps feeling encouraged, and willing to test his powers to the limit, Lionel did not stop there. Thanks Kenny, it was fun, but no, he wanted a country hit under his own damn name.

"Stuck On You" (do I hear faint traces of Eric Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight"?) became the fourth straight Top Ten hit from Can't Slow Down, peaking at #3. But I doubt Lionel cared much about that. No, what he really cared about was that the song climbed all the way to #24 on the country charts. #24!

Ladies and gentlemen, Lionel Richie had finally become an official country music singer.

You ride 'em, cowboy.

Where Kool & The Gang Definitely Don't Promote Marital Sex

2011-11-18T21:48:00.000-08:00

Here's a Kool & The Gang song not likely to be played at a wedding reception. Even fans of their '70s incarnation can get behind this one; to quote one YouTube user, "Didn't care much for their 80's output, but this song is a banger!"

The band was apparently hoping it would be considered a rocker. I'm staring to come under the impression that every single '80s R&B artist, at some point, tried to do their own "Beat It." Kool & The Gang released a couple of different mixes of "Tonight." The version that appeared on my '80s Tape was, oddly enough, the "album" mix. They also released an "AOR Mix," with a different and slightly longer guitar solo, presumably in an attempt at having a crossover "Album Oriented Rock" hit. Didn't work, I'm presuming.

What's always struck me about "Tonight" is that, while the lyrics appear to describe a 16-year-old guy losing his virginity, the song doesn't sound particularly happy or idyllic. Instead, it sounds kind of freaky and menacing. Maybe it wasn't such a great night after all. When J.T. leaps into a piercing falsetto at the end, proclaiming "Oh tonight, I wanna da-aaa-ance with you," I mean, I'm glad he wants to dance, but I wouldn't want him dancing anywhere near me.

Hello? Is It The Most Unintentionally Hilarious Video Of The '80s You Were Looking For?

2011-11-13T18:00:00.000-08:00

There are cheesy '80s music videos. And then there is Lionel Richie's "Hello."

Some artists viewed the new possibilities of the music video format as an opportunity to push the limits of visual creativity. Lionel Richie took it as an opportunity to push the limits of cheese.

The song "Hello" itself is already on the sappy side. "I've been alone with you inside my mind/and in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times." Yeah, Lionel, like you're the first person to ever write a love song. But when that little chord swoops in after the word "for," and he slides into the chorus, I have to admit, I'm a goner.

But they needed to create a whole new category of cheese to accurately measure the cheese level in this video. You see, Lionel's a college professor (or a student teacher? a high school teacher?), she's a student, he's in love with her. Pretty corny. Except there's just one twist: she's blind.

Oh! Snap! Boo-yah!

No, Lionel, don't go there - wait - just - don't - but - aaaaaaaaaaaaand he went there.

It's hard to know what to say. There's the embarrassing play dialogue ("It isn't good for you Billy Boy. Too many memories, too many ghosts." "It's what I know - this, and the can."). There's the late night phone call. And finally, there is the sculpture. Oh, the sculpture.

You know what? I'll just let the YouTube users take it from here:

That statue needs a heavy douching of jerry curl juice to portray him accurately

No one has ever captured my jerry curl in clay......I'm jealous

Lionel Richie Chia Pet Head. On sale now!

Do you think that the bust of Lionel that looks nothing like him still exists? It's probably worth a fortune. I would love to own it. It would really tie the room together.

how does she put her makeup on??

Why is she reading with the lights on?

obviously pretending to be blind for a scholarship

Hello? Is it me you're looking for? Oh, sorry... I'll try back later. Do you know when she'll be in? Around 9, you say? I apologize for the mixup again, take care now.

What subject is he teaching? Mackin' 101

Yo, how come no one notices that Lionel Ritchie is singing in the middle of class out of nowhere.

Lionel, what the f*ck kinda shirt are you wearing @3:47? its like a striped button up tank-top-vest with pockets...

Where Kool & The Gang Single-handedly Create Your Wedding Reception Playlist

2011-11-10T21:28:00.000-08:00

For reasons that remain unclear to this day, in the '80s Kool & The Gang took it upon themselves to make the jobs of wedding DJs the world over just a little bit easier. Don't know what to play at a wedding? Just pop in a Kool & The Gang Greatest Hits CD and you're all set.

"Celebration" may not only be heard at weddings, but also at birthdays, bar mitzvahs, Quinceaneras, and freed hostage welcoming parties (see: Iran Hostage Crisis, 1981). Personally, I will forever associate the song with Oakland A's home victories, but the tune can be applied to virtually any sporting event, aside from those held in Cleveland, where fans have nothing to celebrate.

Depending on at what point you play the video for "Get Down On It" at your reception, sickness may be unintentionally induced. As one YouTube user put it, "Guy who made the video had just found the 'ghosting' function and thought 'hey thats pretty cool!' "

Meanwhile, the video for "Fresh" was apparently a rare collaboration between Bob Fosse and Ridley Scott:

Imagine chewing on your steak, and then turning around to find that...Kool & The Gang have taken over your favorite all-night diner! "Hey, get that keyboard off the table, you're scratching the paint."

But the mother of all Kool & the Gang wedding reception songs has to be "Cherish." "Cherish" is to '80s wedding reception songs as "Just The Way You Are" is to '70s wedding reception songs. It is a wedding reception unto itself.

But see, what I like about "Cherish" is that it is not specifically about weddings, or even about romance. According to AMG, the band was recording in the Bahamas, and "while working along the beach, lead singer James 'J.T.' Taylor watched the band members' children happily at play and thought to himself 'how blessed we are. God has been good to us and we should cherish it.' " His falsetto at the 3:33 mark is so sweet, it almost makes me want to cherish something. Like my sarcasm.

The video is like a perfect four-minute distillation of every Time-Life "Romantic Classics" infomercial ever made, complete with seagulls, bonfires, and tiki torches. I warn you: the sheer wholesomeness of these images may cause blindness.

Dear God, Something Terrible's Happened, Why Can't Lionel Richie Slow Down??

2011-11-06T17:03:00.000-08:00

In 1982, Lionel released his first solo album, simply called Lionel Richie. The album was an immediate success and boasted three hit singles: "Truly," "You Are" (which brightened up my '80s Tape) and "My Love," a song I heard on the radio a couple of months ago and kept waiting for it to slip into the chorus of "Easy," and then I realized that after a while Lionel Richie's ballads all just blend together and become one big Lionel stew.

But in retrospect, Lionel Richie was merely a warm-up for the MOR onslaught that was Can't Slow Down.

Imagine a record executive sitting around his penthouse in 1983, smoking a cigar, thinking, "Man, if only I had an album that was just like Thriller, but much wimpier." Can't Slow Down is that record.

Picture an emasculated hybrid of "Beat It" and "Bille Jean" and you might have "Running With The Night." Who needs a scorching guitar solo from Eddie Van Halen when you can have a scorching guitar solo from...Toto's Steve Lukather?

Then there was the time Lionel Richie tried to sound Jamaican. "People dancing all in the street/Feel the rhythm all in their feet/Life is goooood, whyyyylde and sweet." Dude, Lionel, you're from Alabama. You're not fooling anybody.

But clearly all the partygoers are having too good of a time to care about the man's dubious accent; even the policeman can't resist joining in on the fun. As one YouTube user put it, "This song stopped me from killing myself with a spoon today."

Also: did you know that Lionel Richie is huge in the Middle East? According to ABC News, "Grown Iraqi men get misty-eyed by the mere mention of his name. Iraqis who do not understand a word of English can sing an entire Lionel Richie song." Fittingly, on the night American tanks invaded Baghdad, Iraqis celebrated by blasting "All Night Long" throughout the streets. Probably not the kind of party Lionel had in mind.

The Shat is Back

2011-11-04T12:19:00.000-07:00

Yes folks, the Shat is back! Back with a new album that is. An album... of covers! Have you ever wanted to hear Shatner sing Space Oddity? How about She Blinded me with Science? Or maybe you're in the mood for some 90's Floyd with Learning to Fly? All these and more await on Shatner's "Seeking Major Tom", an album of space-themed covers. Here's Bohemian Rhapsody for you (which curiously takes its cues from the Halo 3 Superbowl halftime commercial, as well as Halo 3's opening cinematic). Enjoy!

How Kool & The Gang Went Cosby

2011-10-30T18:17:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, back in 1969, a man named Robert Bell decided to go by the name of "Kool," and he began collaborating with some fellow musicians whom he then termed his "gang." This "Kool" and his so-called "gang" played a variety of what was then called "funk." Their songs boasted titles such as "Chocolate Buttermilk," "Raw Hamburger," "Electric Frog," "Funky Granny," and "Rated X." They didn't even have a lead singer. Who needs a lead singer when you're funky?

Among my peers, the most well-known track done by the funk-era Kool & The Gang is probably "Jungle Boogie," thanks to its usage in the opening credits of Pulp Fiction (Side note: did you know that '70s R&B actually existed before Quentin Tarantino discovered it?). The man delivering those guttural vocal ad-libs was apparently the band's roadie.

And who could forget their contribution to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, the not-in-terribly-good-taste "Open Sesame"? I don't think lines like "Get on your camel and ride," or the comical usage of the "There's a place in France where the naked ladies dance" melody would go down too well in this day and age. But hey, there probably weren't too many Muslims in Studio 54, I'm guessing.

The '70s Kool & The Gang wasn't solely about high energy dance numbers, however. See "Summer Madness," their freaky, spaced-out version of a ballad.

But as every musician of the '70s quickly found out, the good times couldn't last forever. AMG gives the band's 1977 album The Force 1 1/2 stars. Lead single "Slick Superchick" peaked at #102. Suddenly, this gang wasn't so kool anymore.

Enter one James Taylor - who went by "J.T." in order to avoid confusion with the singer-songwriter of "Fire and Rain" fame.

One could argue that this James Taylor possessed even less of an edge than the other one. But with J.T. at the helm, Kool & The Gang not only returned to prominence, but swiftly eclipsed their earlier popularity.

Now, there are funk purists who adamantly claim that the '70s Kool & The Gang was the "real" Kool & The Gang, and that the version of the band that came to dominate radio in the '80s was watered down crap. These are probably the same people who think that Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd was the "real" Pink Floyd, or that Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac was the "real" Fleetwood Mac. These people were probably young adults in the '70s, they are probably 60 years old now, and nobody cares what they think anymore.

Yes, it's true that there might have been more "credibility" and "real emotion" in the early incarnation of Kool & The Gang. But here's how I see it. There were a lot of other bands like them. I mean, who wants to be just another good funk band? Better to be the absolute masters of a shitty genre than runners-up in a good genre, that's what I say.

And the thing is, I don't think it's quite as hard to make a good funk song as it is to make a good pop song. This coming from a songwriting genius, of course. But funk songs are like jams; at times, they're barely even songs. After a while they can get kind of samey. In my opinion, it takes more effort to write a song like "Cherish" than it does to write a song like "Jungle Boogie." The later Kool & The Gang songs have lyrics, and chord progressions. They're sturdier compositions.

But why do I have to choose, really? In the end, it's all kool with me.

The Beatles: Rock Band Review

2011-10-27T12:37:00.001-07:00

The Beatles were inarguably ahead of their time. As fellow blogger Little Earl used to remind me often, nearly all modern pop music has it's roots in what The Beatles did. Psychadelia? Check. Hard Rock? Check. Electronica? Check. Perhaps the only thing The Beatles didn't invent was dubstep. Indeed, they really forged new musical ground that continues to be explored to this day. It's too bad then that The Beatles: Rock Band comes well after it's time. That is meant as a great compliment - let me explain.

The videogame genre that's come to be known as the "music rhythm" genre began with the original Guitar Hero back in 2005. It soon developed a cult following, and with the release of Guitar Hero II a year later, seemed to explode in popularity. It became the party game, with friends lining up to take their turn on a plastic guitar. Through this plastic guitar with brightly colored buttons, players were expected to play along with a song by hitting the corresponding colored buttons as they were shown on screen. It was an elaborate karaoke of sorts, providing the thrill of being a guitar god without having to actually deal with the incredible difficulty of actually having to master true guitarmanship.

Soon a competitor came along in the form of Rock Band. Now people could play as a whole band, with plastic guitars, basses, drum kits, and microphones. Rock Band was definitely a step forward and took itself ever so slightly more serious than the Guitar Hero series. It was also around this time that the music rhythm genre began to become oversaturated. More and more versions kept being knocked out to bring in more cash: Guitar Hero 80s edition, Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock (complete with virtual G&R Slash as a playable character), Guitar Hero: Aerosmith, Guitar Hero: Metallica, Guitar Hero: World Tour, Guitar Hero: Van Halen. These were all quick cash-ins, usually with little to no input by the featured artists, often featuring songs that supposedly 'inspired' the artist (seriously, a Foo Fighters song in Guitar Hero: Metallica, WTF!?).

Finally, in 2009, came word that The Beatles had given the Rock Band franchise permission to do a Rock Band version of The Beatles. Only this time things would be different, the surviving Beatles (and Yoko, don't forget Yoko) would have direct control on what was to be featured and how it all would be presented. They even went so far as to insist that their name be featured before the familiar Rock Band title, and thus we ended up with the magnificent The Beatles: Rock Band.

It's such a terrible shame then that The Beatles: Rock Band (TB:RB) was one of the last specific-band music games to come out. If only it had been the first, all the other titles would have benefited greatly, because the design of TB:RB is fantastic. Everything about the game screams quality.

The art style is superb, with cartoony looking versions of the fab four that have a somewhat whimsical look about them, apparently crafted under strict guidance from Apple Corps. (actually the whole game seems to have been strictly overseen by them, whoever 'they' are). The presentation is fantastic, taking you on a chronological journey, starting you off playing in the Cavern Club, to the Ed Sullivan show and all places inbetween, ending up on the roof of the Apple Corps. rooftop. For songs recorded at Abbey Road the game has added in "dreamscape" venues, with abstract whimsical nods to various songs (watch this to get what I mean).

This chronological progression really lets you see how the band progressed musically. The songs performed in the Cavern Club feel much more raw and live than the later tracks performed at Abbey Road studios which feel much more processed and musically dense. This is all helped by the various photos and short movies that you unlock as you progress. Some, if not most of these short movies are never before seen snippets and outtakes from various performances, movies, and interviews, though Little Earl would have to be the final judge on just how rare these really are.

TB:RB feels more than just a game, it's like an interactive history lesson that lets you play along. I feel like I actually learned stuff about The Beatles that I didn't previously know (like how the white album doesn't have more than two songs in a row sung by any given member). Ok, it's not going to wow a true afficianado, but for someone uneducated in Beatles lore, it offers a terrific overview of what The Beatles were about.

It's like an interactive history lesson that let's you play along

There's all sorts of little details that make this package work. Like when you pick a song to play, in the first few seconds before the song plays there's audio of the band warming up to play the song, with perhaps a few practice chords or John muttering to someone to turn an amp up. Or how between each musical venue a short montage plays showing you some famous scenes and audio snippets to show what the band was up to. Perhaps the most impressive is the opening to the game, with an amazingly done montage that takes you through the full gamut of The Beatles (seriously, I could watch this a hundred times and still enjoy it).

Overall The Beatles: Rock Band is superb package. I haven't even yet mentioned that the game supports not only the typical Rock Band staples such as guitar, bass, and drums, but the game allows for two microphones to be hooked up for vocal harmonies. My only disappointment with this game is that I wish it had been even more of a history lesson. As it is there's only something like eight short movies that you can unlock, I would have been fine with twice as much. But really, there's not much to complain about. It's just such as shame that this game came out in late 2009 after the music rhythm genre had already reached saturation, which resulted in poor sales. If this had come out earlier it could have laid the foundation for all sorts of music-games-as-history-lessons. Imagine a Pink Floyd: Rock Band, or Nirvana: Rock Band. Instead the only thing to come out since is... Green Day: Rock Band, ugh. Well, one can dream, but in the meantime I've gotta get back to my game and see if I can earn my 5 stars on Helter Skelter. 5/5 Zrbo points.

How Lionel Richie Went Cosby

2011-10-23T18:18:00.001-07:00

By the mid-'70s, the once mighty Motown empire was finally beginning to decline. The Jackson 5 jumped ship to sign with CBS. Only two original members of the Temptations remained. Diana Ross became swallowed up by her own ego. Marvin Gaye became swallowed up by his own penis. Things were looking grim. No one expected a young funk band from Alabama to make much of a difference.

I never understood why a band would name itself after a computer, but hey, that's cool. The Commodores' first hit, "Machine Gun," sounded like it could have been music from a video game, and was used to great effect in the "rise of Dirk Diggler" portion of Boogie Nights.

Then there is "Brick House," staple of frat house comedies and Tyler Perry movie trailers, otherwise know as "She's a brick...HOWZ."

But few people realize that the band who made "Brick House," a song as gritty and funky as anything by The Isley Brothers or The Ohio Players, was the same band who gave birth to the undisputed champion of Cosby Rock:

I can see it now. "Guys, this funk stuff is cool, but you know what I really like? Ballads. Can we try some ballads?" "I don't know, Lionel, that stuff is for pussies." "Aw, come on, just one song? Let's see how it does. If it flops, it flops."

If only. Instead, "Easy" unleashed a monster. The song became the Commodores' biggest hit yet (not to mention an "easy" target for Faith No More, who recorded an amusingly faithful cover version in 1993). The real Lionel Richie had finally stepped out from behind the funky facade. "Issac Hayes? Pfft. How about Barry Manilow? With a dash of Glen Campbell? Now we're talking."

The rest of the group gleefully rode the ballad train. "Still," "Three Times A Lady"...funk? What's funk? We've never heard of this "funk" that you speak of. Close your eyes, and "Sail On" is practically a Yacht Rock song.

Apparently the Commodores are sailing through the clouds here and not the ocean. Maybe they couldn't find any stock footage of a boat and had to settle for stock footage of a hang glider instead. I like the part where Lionel's band mate can't recall whether the lyrics are "Sail on, honey" or "Sail on, sugar." It's a big difference, buddy, get it right.

By 1981, Lionel was doing sweeping duets with Diana Ross.

"Endless Love" was billed as "Lionel Richie and Diana Ross," not "The Commodores and Diana Ross." The writing was on the crossover wall. He stuck around for one last uptempo dance number, "Lady (You Bring Me Up)," before finally sailing on to easier pastures.

For the rest of the band, though, it probably felt more like Monday morning than Sunday morning.

Cosby Rock

2011-10-18T20:19:00.000-07:00

In September 1984, The Cosby Show made its television debut. According to Wikipedia:

For Cosby, the new situation comedy was a response to the increasingly violent and vulgar fare the networks usually offered... The show had parallels to Cosby's actual family life: like the characters Cliff and Claire Huxtable, Cosby and his wife Camille were college educated, financially successful, and had five children. Essentially a throwback to the wholesome family situation comedy, The Cosby Show was unprecedented in its portrayal of an intelligent, affluent, African-American family.

I never really watched The Cosby Show. I don't honestly know much about it. But for the purposes of this blog series, I find Cosby a fitting symbol - a representative, if you will, of a certain shift in '80s black popular culture. Bill Cosby is emblematic of the way in which '70s African-American edginess gradually slid into '80s African-American tameness. And as television went, so did music. Ladies and gentlemen: I give you "Cosby Rock."

In perhaps a mixed sign of our nation's racial progress, I think it's fair to say that in the world of '80s pop music, exceedingly vacuous, non-threatening, yuppified pop songs were not solely the province of white people. True, since the beginning of American popular music, black musicians have often aimed at the middle of the road, but mostly out of necessity. Come off too dangerous, and white people weren't going to buy your music.

The difference with '80s R&B, however, is that - and correct me if I'm wrong here - the focus toward the middle of the road seems to have been more of a deliberate choice. In the '70s, mainstream audiences had demonstrated great acceptance toward gritty, often political funk from artists such as Sly & The Family Stone, Parliament-Funkadelic, Curtis Mayfield, and Stevie Wonder. In other words, white people could handle the heavy stuff. No, these '80s R&B singers wanted to make sentimental crap. But such is the beauty of true American freedom: You have the freedom to churn out Adult Contemporary schlock, if that's what you really want to do.

But I wouldn't want anyone to be fooled by some pseudo-narrative of black upward mobility. It was the '80s. Everybody was still fucked. It's just that nobody really wanted to sing about it. Well, a few people did. We called them "rappers." But come on, like that was ever going to make it. No, the future was obviously George Benson and Billy Ocean.

Michael McDonald Gets His Own Joke

2011-10-14T19:30:00.000-07:00

So after all this, you might ultimately be wondering: what is Michael McDonald really like? Does he think he's cool? Does he think he's ridiculous? Is he in on his own joke?

Ladies and gentlemen, I think I've found the answer. He is.

Back in 1999, many unsuspecting viewers of South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut reached the credits and were initially hit with a punk version of "What Would Brian Boitano Do?" Suddenly, after about a minute and forty-five seconds, a cheap, '80s-style keyboard entered, and a husky, soulful voice began crooning:

The eyes of a child, so innocent and pure
A child's heart is full of song
Take their tiny hand and lead them to the light
As adults we see pain in the world, and it sometimes don't seem right

But through the eyes of a child
The world seems magical
There's a sparkle in their eyes
They've yet to realize the darkness in their soul
The beauty of their smile
Adventurous and wild
Life is kind of gay, but it doesn't seem that way
Through the eyes of a child

Could it really be...yes...it's...Michael McDonald!

Here, according to Parker and Stone, is how it went down:

Having him come in and record that, he was just like, he was fucking perplexed. He said something like, "Beggars can't be choosers...you can pay me in food...can I crash at your guys' place...yeah it's been kind of lame lately...I gotta do whatever I can." He was great, he did a really good job on that song. He did Michael McDonald really well.

It truly is a treat to hear one of the iconic voices of my childhood belt out lines such as "Spread your wings and fly to the brightest star/If you want I can even get my friend Steve to detail your car - for like 20 bucks." He sounds like he means it.

Additionally, in a recent interview with Time Out New York, McDonald displays an impressive self-awareness. Some excerpts:

You should know going into this that I’ve had “I Keep Forgettin’ ” stuck in my head for 25 years now. I think I’m technically insane.

Well, that’s good to hear.

That “Regulate” song by Warren G and Nate Dogg? Didn’t help.

It’s funny. To my kids, that’s the good version of the song. They say, “Why couldn’t you have written it that way?” They love that record—but not because of anything I did.

As a guy with prematurely graying hair myself, I want to thank you for being a role model.

I wish I had a choice in that one, but yeah, you’re welcome.

You wore it proudly—like Steve Martin!

I wish I could say that I was that way from the beginning. It was only after two or three humiliating episodes where the record company told me, “We’re not going to shoot a video unless you dye your hair,” and I looked like Mr. Chocolate Kiss from Clairol. It had to get really ugly before I decided that I would never dye it again.

All well and good. But what we really want to know is: has he heard of Yacht Rock? Nothing could have prepared me for his delightful answer:

Have you ever owned a yacht?

No, but I thought Yacht Rock was hilarious. And uncannily, you know, those things always have a little bit of truth to them. It’s kind of like when you get a letter from a stalker who’s never met you. They somehow hit on something, and you have to admit they’re pretty intuitive.

Have you at least lived near a marina?

No, I never did. Although a couple summers ago, when I opened for Steely Dan, I’d do the encore with them and come out in a little captain’s hat, like Alan Hale Jr. We all wore them onstage.

And not one of you owns a yacht?

Not that I know of. Well, David Crosby owns a sailboat. But I’m not sure he counts.

The man has not only seen Yacht Rock; he liked it. Sometimes, the universe really is a wonderful place. The interviewer manages to squeeze a few more juicy morsels out of him:

Okay. So what’s the craziest thing you ever did with Kenny Loggins?

We mostly worked a lot when we would get together. Kenny, he’s one of those guys who was a more serious artist; I was just a schlub. He was like, “C’mon, let’s get this right,” and I was like, “Got any beer?”

I’m thinking that your tenure in the Doobie Brothers probably wasn’t drug-free.

Not exactly, no. Not everybody had the same problems that I had, but there was a few of us who did the dust.

Did fans almost expect that kind of stuff from you?

I don’t want it to sound like I’m bragging about smoking pot, but there was a time when that was a big part of our day. Smoking in the morning was normal. But a lot of things became normal to me. Seizures, pissing my pants, waking up in a hotel room with the New York City police at the foot of my bed became normal. It’s not like I’m proud of it.

I'm proud of it, Michael. We're all very proud.

--------------------------------

Thus ends our adventures in Yacht Rock - or at least the collection of artists featured heavily in the Yacht Rock web series. In reality, the show has only dipped its toes into the vast ocean that is early '80s soft rock. I have vague plans of starting a series on great Yacht Rock one hit wonders, as well as a series on Yacht Rock's late '80s sister genre, Yuppie Rock. But all in due time. For now, it's on to a discussion of a genre to which I have decided to bestow the name "Cosby Rock."

Yacht Rock: Episode 12

2011-10-08T21:02:00.000-07:00

And now, my friends, we come to the final episode of Yacht Rock, and let me tell you, it's a doozy. Somehow our dear Channel 101'ers have managed to wrap up every loose end and every stray reference into one loving little send-off. Even Christopher Cross makes a comeback!

Supposedly the episode is in 3-D, but I can't really attest as to whether that works or not. And yes, just what was Dan Ackroyd doing at the "We Are The World" session? Not only was he not a singer, he wasn't even American.

Michael McDonald Does His Own Soundtrack Song!

2011-10-03T21:53:00.000-07:00

One day our middle-aged, soulful crooning maestro must have looked up and noticed that Loggins was running laps around him in the hit soundtrack department. I guess he figured "better late than never."

And what better movie to write a song for than the Billy Crystal/Gregory Hines flick Running Scared. You know, Running Scared.

By this time McDonald's salt & pepper looks were firmly more salt than pepper. And what a surprise when, at the 2:40 mark, Michael McDonald finds himself in the movie with Billy Crystal and Gregory Hines! Look at the infectiously great time everyone is having. Little do they know, but it's 1986, and the party's about to be over.

Kenny Meets Giorgio

2011-09-30T18:36:00.000-07:00

Kenny Loggins loved movie soundtracks. Giorgio Moroder loved movie soundtracks. Kenny, meet Giorgio; Giorgio, meet Kenny.

According to Wikipedia, "Moroder originally asked Bryan Adams to record this song, but he was said to have rejected it because he had disliked the jingoism expressed in Top Gun." Obviously Kenny Loggins had no qualms about any of that. Don't you know anything, Bryan Adams? If you want to make it as an '80s rock star, check your values at the door.

Hilariously, "the rock group Toto was also supposed to perform the song, but due to legal matters, it was passed to Loggins." Luckily fate intervened, because Toto were about as dangerous as a sponge. By comparison, danger is Kenny Loggins' middle name. Just look at the video. Kenny appears to be residing in the highly dangerous zone of ... his bedroom. Nothing spells "danger" like a ceiling fan.

The Oily Robot Magic Of Giorgio Moroder

2011-09-24T19:45:00.000-07:00

The greatest minds in all of fiction could not have invented Giorgio Moroder. He is an instant parody of himself. He is also a genius.

But Giorgio was an Italian nobody until he met up with Donna Summer in 1975. I don't know who convinced who to do what, but at the end of it all, a vaguely pornographic 17-minute long disco epic called "Love To Love You Baby" was born.

The peak years of the Summer/Giorgio (I must only call him by his first name) collaboration would need to be discussed at another time. "Last Dance," "Hot Stuff," "I Feel Love" - just get yourself a copy of On The Radio. Suffice to say, their late '70s disco hits influenced a generation of electronic artists, and Giorgio never met a synthesizer he didn't like. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and eventually disco faded.

The death of disco would have killed lesser producers. How did Giorgio survive? Like Kenny Loggins, he discovered the next best thing: movie soundtracks.

What better way to escape from a Turkish prison than to the hypnotic, throbbing sounds of "The Chase" from the Midnight Express soundtrack (a gem I might have missed if not for its inclusion on the Pitchfork 500)?

Fresh off their crossover dance hit "Heart Of Glass," Blondie suddenly got the urge for a piece of the Giorgio action. Well, they wanted Giorgio, and they got Giorgio. "Call Me," from the American Gigolo soundtrack, became the #1 Billboard hit of 1980.

Doing his part to boost the popularity of leg warmers and off-the-shoulder sweaters everywhere, Giorgio may have created the very apotheosis of Aerobic Rock in Irene Cara's #1 hit "Flashdance...What A Feeling," from the Flashdance soundtrack.

Most observers would have suggested that pairing Giorgio Moroder with the German silent classic Metropolis was not a good fit. Giorgio thought otherwise.

Finally, in 1986, Giorgio teamed up with another unlikely partner: the U.S. Air Force. Somewhere deep down in that sleazy European body of his, he found a crumb of American patriotism and let his synth flag fly. I'll tell you what takes my breath away: Giorgio Moroder's surprising love for my country, that's what.

Zrbo Reviews: VNV Nation's Automatic

2011-09-20T17:51:00.001-07:00

Several years ago I found myself driving across the Dumbarton Bridge one early morning. I don't remember what my intended destination was, but I do remember that the experience was somewhat surreal. It was early in the morning so a heavy bank of fog was still hovering just off the bay. Driving along the Dumbarton, with it's span sitting just above water level, the heavy fog obscured any visible sign of land, to the point where I could see nothing but the road, the bay, and the electrical towers running parallel. It felt as though I were driving on some infinite road in the middle of an infinite ocean.

This surreal experience was accentuated by the sounds of VNV Nation pumping through my car. I was listening to a somewhat forgotten b-side named Weltfunk from one of the Genesis singles off of their 2002 album Futureperfect. Weltfunk, loosely translated from German as 'world radio' or 'world transmission', is an instrumental piece, one that makes me think of a parade march for an old art deco inspired World's Fair if they had had synthesizers and drum machines back then. It's the sound of progress-through-technology from a more innocent age. This feeling is accentuated by the radio noise that creeps in near the end of the track, almost like the listener is slowly losing the signal. Driving along this infinite-looking concrete bridge, coupled with the electrical towers and lines running alongside me, I felt as though I were driving into this imagined perfect future. Weltfunk was perfect for the retro-future/art deco vibe that VNV Nation presented on Futureperfect. With 2011's Automatic this song now feels like a prototype, invoking the same mood that VNV Nation presents the listener with on their new album.

VNV Nation are a duo, composed of Irishman Ronan Harris, and London-born Mark Jackson. Working out of their Hamburg studio, Ronan is the real heart of VNV Nation, while Mark provides backup (the Ringo?). Sprung from the depths of the gloomy underground electro-industrial scene, for the past decade and a half the two have been developing their own unique musical style, one they (perhaps inadvertently) ended up naming 'futurepop'. While the term may cause long time fans to roll their eyes, it's a perfectly apt descriptor for the style and tone of music VNV Nation have been producing: a mixture of electronica, industrial, dance, and synthpop, the theme of the music being a nod towards the future and the things humanity could be if we put aside our differences.

VNV albums carry a certain DNA in their structural layout. Each album seems to follow a certain rhythm, with mandatory instrumental (or spoken word) intros, followed usually by an uptempo track, with an instrumental to bring down the energy in the middle, then the album is built back up with a ballad, and ends on some sort of inspirational or experimental track that perhaps encapsulates the theme of the album. In a sense VNV albums are clichéd, the fan taking comfort in the expected rhythms of each album's structure. At this point I've come to realize that Ronan Harris has been doing this on purpose. He's not so much run out of ideas, rather he's been busy perfecting an art, each release a slightly more refined and mature iteration of the previous one. He's like a chef, creating and recreating a dish, serving up variations, all similar but none quite the same, until he hits just the right balance of flavors. Automatic is no exception to this rule: it is structured the way all VNV albums are, and is another great addition in an already amazing catalog.

Automatic begins, as it should, with an instrumental opener to get us in the mood and give us a taste of the theme of the album. Like with Futureperfect, and more specifically the song Weltfunk, Automatic takes it's stylings from retro-futurism, with art deco inspired cover art (see above), like some sort of missing title card from Metropolis. The album begins with with On-Air, a three and a half minute bit beginning with some old fuzzy radio noise, like someone changing frequencies on a very, very old radio. Eventually it morphs into a bit of light piano, but overall it doesn't work too well. While Matter and Form's Intro was also just a bit of noise, it was so brief that it never outlasted it's welcome. However, On-Air just dwells around a bit too long, with the opening radio fanfare repeated obnoxiously, and then the song just doesn't really go anywhere. Typically VNV openers set the stage, getting you excited to hear what's next. 2007's Judgement began with the cinematic Prelude, while Futureperfect's spoken Foreword worked wonderfully with it's inspiring multi-lingual message. On-Air just doesn't go very far and comes across a bit boring, a problem we'll encounter later on in another instrumental track. It's a shame then that On-Air falls flat, as what follows is very much worth listening too.

The second track, and the first real song, on a typical VNV album is usually an uptempo, anthemic dance number. 1999's Empires cemented this with Kingdom, which acts like some sort of VNV Nation mission statement. Every VNV album since has given us something good here, and Automatic does not disappoint. Space & Time is classic VNV Nation. It starts really well too, almost to the point where I wish Ronan had broke with tradition and just started the album on this track, just bolting straight out of the gate.

The band usually leaves the third slot space to another dance number, but usually something a bit more mid-tempo or exploratory. Usually these songs are good, but not quite as anthemic as the previous track, almost like Ronan doesn't want to upstage the leadoff song. Ronan discards this notion and gives us the terrific Resolution. Borrowing heavily from euphoric trance, Ronan's voice guides us along in an inspirational sing-along in an absolutely perfect piece of unadulterated futurepop complete with the full trance drop-it-out/bring-it-back bridge. Both of these first two songs are phenomenal ear candy and get the album moving along nicely.

Control is Automatic's nod to VNV's industrial/EBM roots, a rant that finishes with Ronan repeatedly chanting "Put the switch to automatic/I want control!". This song has a perfect opening with terrific energy and just pulls the listener in immediately with rebelliously fun lyrics like "I don't want 15 minutes or a reason why/I want a stainless steel road stretching off to the sky". If you know your VNV Nation then you'll find Ronan's inspiration here in what I call the VNV-rant song. These rant songs are a remnant of early VNV tracks like Honour where Ronan barked his lyrics more than sung them. However, the VNV-rant was truly cemented in the song Chrome from 2005's Matter and Form, and since then has shown it's head in songs like Testament, Nemesis, and Tomorrow Never Comes. Just like Chrome, Control gets experimental halfway through, with Ronan poking around on knobs and buttons on the old vintage synthesizers he's so fond of, to the point where the song breaks down almost completely two-thirds through, only to have Ronan somehow bring it all back. It's a fun song that will probably get a lot of play in the clubs, though my only complaint is that once the chorus kicks in Ronan doesn't give us anymore verses, just the repeated "I want control!".

After such an energetic and powerful tune, Ronan, in typical VNV style, gives the listener a break by bringing the energy back down with Goodbye 20th Century - perhaps bringing the energy down a little too much. Once again, we get old radio sounds which evolve into a light piano, and as before it just doesn't work. While I understand Ronan's desire to place this track here, it's too slow and pretty much just kills any momentum, with the song coming across as an On-Air part 2. This might have worked better as the album closer, such as Judgement's As It Fades did (which I described as sounding like something from Lord of the Rings), but it's just too slow for it's own good.

The album recovers with Streamline, a mid-tempo bit with Ronan delving more into the retro-future theme through lyrics such as "streamlined simplicity for a twenty-first century" and "electronic alchemists in the new metropolis/enlightened living through practicality". The song fulfills it's obligation by getting the album moving again, and brings us to one of the albums best songs.

The seventh track to greet us, Gratitude, is a delightful welcome. With a nice rhythm running through it, Gratitude finds Ronan giving some personal insight into the things that he's thankful for. That sounds a bit corny, but it's refreshing to hear Ronan singing about people real to him, as opposed to the usual unknown "you" he substitutes in many tracks. ~~He even references his father in this song, the first time in any VNV Nation song where a personal figure was specifically named~~ [edit: I've been corrected, apparently he says 'former self' not 'father's self'] (alas, we'll probably never get to know who Ronan was singing about in the haunting vocal version of Forsaken from 1998's Solitary EP). Actually, I'm not entirely sure if the whole song is meant for his dad or for multiple people as it becomes a bit muddled partway through. Either way, this is a truly great song, with a terrific rhythm and pacing and sweet chorus that manages to elevate itself above sappiness.

Nova (shine a light on me) is Automatic's ballad. It's a nice song with a nice sentiment and adequately fulfills its purpose as the song VNV get to perform live while loved ones in the audience hold each other. If that sounds cynical, then it just goes to show how skilled VNV are when it comes to delivering ballads. Earlier in the band's career it was a complete novelty to see a band associated with the underground club culture of electro-industrial sing a ballad. At this point in their career however, we've been given a ballad on each and every album, and they've begun to blur together a bit. I'm not saying Nova is bad or even clichéd, it's just that some of their earlier ballads seemed to have a bit more heart to them (see Standing) no matter how much Ronan may turn up his broguish crooning here.

The second-to-last track is Photon. If you know your VNV Nation then you know how they like to include a long danceable instrumental track somewhere on their albums. Empires birthed Saviour (and later Saviour [Vox] ), Futureperfect begat Electronaut, Matter and Form featured Lightwave, Judgement generated Momentum (har) which added some spoken word, and 2009's Of Faith, Power and Glory continued the spoken word instrumental (how else do I describe it?) with Art of Conflict. Photon is a fine addition to this lineage (and the name is so similar to Lightwave and Momentum that one wouldn't be blamed for confusing which song was which) and it allows us to move on to the final song off of Automatic.

Radio begins with some synthesized blips and bloops and then partway through adds a thudding drum beat to provide some rhythm. Radio functions as the album's final departing message, with VNV albums usually giving the listener something profound and stirring to ponder. This song is exactly that, and brings us all the way back to Weltfunk, with the radio as a metaphor for broadcasting VNV Nation's vision that "one should strive to achieve, not sit in bitter regret". In fact, attentive listeners of this song can hear the distant crackle of a radio between Ronan's opening lines, while the beat that kicks in, despite being unrelentingly thumping, has a surprising amount of bounce to it. This song takes a while to sink in, but provides some great payoffs. There's a certain urgency to Ronan's voice here that creates just the mildest bit of uneasiness, something the unrelenting rhythm accentuates. Rather than go with something wondrous and whimsical like Futureperfect's album closer Airships, here we are given something with just a little bit more edge, but something that fittingly caps off an album devoted to retro-futurism. Lastly, I have to point out that the song's length is 7:47, a number I'm curious if Ronan deliberately chose (we've seen Mark and Ronan hanging out in front of vintage planes before).

Like it's earlier cousin Weltfunk, Automatic presents us with a vision of a world from a more innocent age, where it was hoped that technology would one day provide for and unite all people's of the Earth. As VNV Nation's music has progressed, the lyrics have become a tad bit simpler, with the synthesizers given a bit more room to breathe. Gone are the days of overwrought lyrics and harsh industrial noise. Though some fans may lament that VNV are no longer the industrial band they once were, it's amazing to see just how far they've come in terms of style and sound. What began as an infusion of more trance into their earlier sound with the album Futureperfect, has slowly evolved into a wonderfully distinct sound that really sets VNV Nation apart from any of their contemporaries. I also have to note how amazing Ronan has become in the production department. Everything on this album sounds smooth and polished, with the synths sounding amazingly powerful. Ronan is known to toy with his collection of vintage synthesizers, and it would seem that he's become quite proficient in their use. At this point I wouldn't mind seeing Ronan provide some production on another band's album just to see how he'd fare.

I remarked in my review of Of Faith, Power and Glory that "with each new release Ronan Harris not only expands on the group's sound, but shows that he still has a good ear turned to the club scene. Not a single bleep, bloop, or synth seems misplaced... VNV Nation's strength comes from their ability to meld industrial anthems with catchy hooks and emotive lyrics." At the time of that writing I thought Of Faith, Power and Glory was the pinnacle of VNV Nation's sound, and could act as a perfect final album for the band if they so chose. Instead I was completely mistaken, as it seems that it was only with that album that they finished laying the foundation for their future, or, in their own words, "all great things to come". Like my surreal morning drive across that bridge, VNV Nation are heading down that same stretch of highway and they understand where they're going better than ever. 4.5/5 Zrbo points.

Yacht Rock: Episode 11

2011-09-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

Apparently, by Episode 10, Yacht Rock had become quite the hip little show - hip enough to bask in some genuine celebrity cameos. Drew Carey and Sara Silverman made guest appearances alongside Hollywood Steve. Episode 11 even features Jason Lee as Kevin Bacon, and what appears to be The Daily Show's Wyatt Cenac as James Ingram (!).

You see, while Kenny Loggins was on the phone with Michael McDonald, he was eating an apple, so when he told McDonald, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes," it came out sounding like "Yah mo b there in fifteen minutes."

A notorious song title was born.

Likewise, you probably thought that lyrics like "Jack, get back/Come on before we crack" and "Geez, Louise/Blow me off of my knees" were just Loggins' absurdly lame attempts to sound energetic, right? Little did we know, but the song was actually a direct plea to Jimmy Buffet's two most senior Parrotheads, Jack and Louise. And when Loggins sang "Cut foot loose," he was literally asking Michael McDonald to cut ... his foot ... loose.

The Footloose Soundtrack: George Orwell Never Imagined 1984 Would Be Quite This Scary

2011-09-15T13:15:00.000-07:00

Now, I will admit an area of weakness when it appears before me. Granted, I have not heard every cheesy '80s soundtrack that there is to hear. But I would be impressed if there were an '80s soundtrack both as cheesy and as impressive as the Footloose soundtrack.

Sadly, my newfound passion for '80s music has not extended into '80s cinema - yet. Thus, my appreciation for the Footloose soundtrack has not filled me with the overwhelming desire to actually go and watch Footloose. But I imagine I'm not the only person to have ever felt this way. How else do you explain the Footloose soundtrack topping the US Billboard album chart for 10 weeks in the summer of 1984 - a time when actual, you know, "real" albums like Thriller, Born In The U.S.A., and Purple Rain were also available for purchase? Surely not all of those listeners went and saw Footloose. Maybe they figured, hey, why buy a bunch of unrelated hit singles when six of them - that's right, six - are all on the same album!

Surprisingly, the album contains not one, but two hits from Kenny Loggins. While the aforementioned title cut continues to live and breathe within the hearts of all God fearing Americans, "I'm Free (Heaven Helps The Man)" has been relegated to the dustbins of shitty '80s pop music history. If your idea of a great music video is Kenny Loggins breaking out of prison, hot-wiring cars, jumping from rooftops, and rescuing teenage girls, then ladies and gentlemen, "I'm Free" may be your Citizen Kane.

Not that Shamalar's "Dancing In The Streets," Sammy Hagar's "The Girl Gets Around," and Moving Pictures' "Never" are lacking in any noticeable way, but let's be honest, it's the first four tracks that really put the Footloose soundtrack ahead of the pack.

"Footloose" was neither the album's only Kenny Loggins hit single nor the album's only US #1 single. Let's hear it for Deniece Williams' "Let's Hear It For The Boy," one of the cornerstones of a genre to be featured in an upcoming series of mine: Aerobic Rock.

What would an '80s soundtrack be without a terrific power ballad? Here we get "Almost Paradise," a duet between Heart's Ann Wilson and Loverboy's Mike Reno. I'll tell you what almost paradise is. Almost paradise is listening to this song.

Finally, Bonnie Tyler and songwriter Jim Steinman re-team after "Total Eclipse of the Heart" to contribute the frantic "Holding Out For A Hero." According to Wikipedia, "The opening couplet - 'Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods?/ Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?' - could be seen as an example of the Ubi Sunt motif in literature." See Paula Cole, you're not the only one who can pull off that Latin shit.

I guess she really needs a hero. Somebody just get her a damn hero already.

Kenny Loggins, Meet Movie Soundtracks

2011-09-12T19:43:00.000-07:00

Most musicians don't stay up in their bedrooms late at night playing air guitar, dreaming that one day, if they're lucky, they could write hits for movie soundtracks. Kenny Loggins, however, is not your ordinary musician.

So country rock wasn't good enough for him, and then mildly soulful soft rock wasn't good enough for him? I'm afraid Kenny Loggins was a restless spirit who would never be satisfied.

"I'm Alright," his initial foray into the world of cinema, appeared on the soundtrack to Caddyshack, a movie I have not actually seen. It seems to be praised by people whose taste in movies I generally do not respect, but perhaps one day I will give it a viewing.

Nor have I seen Footloose, the Kevin Bacon film to which Loggins provided the smash title track. The undisputed highlight of this song can be heard at the 2:44 mark.

And yet, somehow I have seen Sylvester Stallone's Over The Top, or at least parts of it on TV. Children, do not play with this '80s movie at home.

The Last Of The Great Loggins/McDonald Collaborations

2011-09-10T18:55:00.000-07:00

As a kid I always wondered why all these Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins songs sounded so similar to each other, and then one day, a couple of years ago, I finally found out why: because they were all secretly written together by Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins!

Although not featured in Yacht Rock, "Heart To Heart" was a cherished track on my '80s Tape (sadly, McDonald doesn't sing backing vocals, but he apparently plays keyboard), and I am not the only one who fell for the tune's sultry spell. In Stephen Thomas Erlewine's review of Loggins' 1982 album High Adventure, he writes that "Heart To Heart" is "the second of two pop classics Loggins cut as a solo artist" (the other being "This Is It," which he praises in an earlier review). "Here, he has a great mid-tempo groove, a good lyric and an indelible melody that is soft rock at its finest." Erlewine goes on to admit that "the rest of the album may not match this height -- most of the genre didn't..."

Ah, but Loggins would soon reach heights of a different, more hard-rocking kind.

Crazy Rant #6: Why Is Everything Closing?

2011-09-08T21:04:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, I decided to kill some time in Borders. Only problem was, when I walked in, there was nothing on the shelf. Because Borders was closing.

Was someone going to tell me that Borders was closing? I mean what the hell is going on? Borders? There were two Borders in downtown San Francisco, and every time I walked into either one, the place was always packed. Sometimes there were chairs in which I could sit. I didn't have to worry about looking like a douche if I wasn't buying something. Where am I supposed to kill time now? A park?

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to purchase a CD. I did not want to order the CD online. I wanted to purchase it in person. But I couldn't think of a store that still existed where I could actually go and do that. Borders? Closed. The Virgin Megastore? Closed. Tower Records? Closed. Was it now impossible to buy a CD in person? Suddenly I remembered a store that had probably not closed and that probably still sold CDs: Amoeba. I went to Amoeba, and no, they had not closed, and yes, they had the CD I was looking for.

Circuit City, I didn't really miss. No love lost over Mervyn's. But every time I turn my head, some major company is disappearing. It's like the day I looked at an atlas and wondered what the hell happened to the Soviet Union. What were all these little new countries? I could have sworn there was a moment in the '90s where I honestly thought, "Everything that's here right now is still going to be around forever, right, Chris Farley?"

When I first received consistent home internet access, I thought it was a cool new thing. I didn't think it was going to destroy newspapers, record companies, bookstores, and porn theaters. I should have made the connection. But I didn't. I mean, couldn't we still have the internet ... and Blockbuster too? Can you imagine a time when the Postal Service no longer exists? I can. Because it might be next year.

Yes, Paula Cole: where have all the cowboys gone?

Like An Anteater, But Worse

2011-09-05T12:10:00.000-07:00

A sinister bass line. Choppy guitar chords. It's The Supreme's "You Can't Hurry Love," only this is one dark alleyway The Supremes wouldn't want to find themselves walking down. A ghostly synthesizer riff. Percussion that sounds disturbingly like water droplets. A saxophone. Ladies and gentlemen, I have seen the future. And its name is "Maneater."

Maneater? What the fuck is a Maneater? A dangerous woman? If a dangerous woman came up to me and said she was a "maneater" I'd tell her she had a digestive disorder and she should get that looked at. Is it some kind of veiled oral sex reference? Nah - Hall & Oates weren't that sneaky. Is she a prostitute? "So many have paid to see/What'd you think, you'd get it for free?" Biologically speaking, we could assume that a maneater is in the Panthera genus, given that the animal described in the song is "a she-cat tamed by the purr of a jaguar." Maneaters are also nocturnal animals, seeing as they "only come out at night," and they also possess tremendous vision; how else could she keep her eyes on the door while she is sitting right next to you?

Although "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)" may have the hipster cache (even appearing on the Pitchfork 500, for example), "Maneater" is probably the true summit of Hall & Oates' art. When Hall sings "I wouldn't if I were you/I know what she can do," it's like a warning from a man who's already been there and barely lived to tell the tale. It lends an air of mystery to the narrator. So the guy survived a maneater; what else does he know?

But I'll tell you what truly elevates "Maneater" beyond the rest of Hall & Oates' singles: the saxophone solo.

The saxophone solo in "Maneater" is the mother of all '80s saxophone solos. Scratch that. It is the father, the son, and the holy ghost of all '80s saxophone solos. For you see, it's a duet. But not just any duet. The saxophone has a duet ... with itself.

It has a fucking duet with its own echo. Pete Townshend used to try this with a guitar during live shows, and Led Zeppelin created an effect in "Whole Lotta Love" where the echo of the vocal appeared before the vocal itself, but this, ladies and gentlemen, is a whole other creature entirely.

It starts off soft, playful. Then it builds. The notes begin to dance with each other. It's like a vice grip on your head, becoming tighter and tighter. Until finally, the saxophone and its echo weave and weave into this giant cascading crescendo and the intensity becomes so brutal it's just about to destroy your ears and rip Christopher Cross a new asshole and then Hall swoops in with a gritty "Oooooooohhh!" and brings us back to safety.

I've always pictured Hall and Oates sitting at the recording console, listening to the playback, saying to each other in hushed tones things like, "Nobody's ever done this before." "This is a totally new sound, man." "Nobody's even gonna know what to make of it."

Extra points for some of Hall's most inspired ad-libbing: "The woman is wild, whoo-ooo-ooohh!" and "Watch out, watch out, watch out, watch out!"

In summary: whatever a maneater is, you really don't want to know.

Apparently Hall & Oates Cannot Go For That

2011-09-02T19:43:00.000-07:00

If I had been hanging out in the studio with Hall & Oates in 1981, and they had asked me, "Hey Little Earl, what do you think about us having this lyric that goes, 'I Can't Go For That, I Can't Go For That, No Can Do'?," I would have told them that, no, actually I couldn't really go for that, and honestly guys, that is a lyric that you cannot do. But I wasn't there, and thank God, because they did go for that, and yes, they could do.

What they could do was score with R&B listeners:

Thanks to heavy airplay on urban contemporary radio stations, "I Can't Go for That" also topped the U.S. R&B chart, a rare feat for a non-African American act. According to the Hall and Oates biography, Hall, upon learning that "I Can't Go For That" had gone to number one on the R&B chart, wrote in his diary, "I'm the head soul brother in the U.S. Where to now?"

So yes, even black people could go for that. One very famous black person who could go for that was Michael Jackson. You may notice a slight similarity between the spare, "bass-and-percussion" opening bars of "I Can't Go For That" and "Billie Jean." According to Hall, this is no coincidence:

On "We Are the World" we were all in the room together. He sort of clung to Diana Ross pretty much, but at one point I was off to the side and he came over to me and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I stole 'Billie Jean' from you," and I said, "It's all right, man, I just ripped the bass line off, so can you!"

Years later, another group of black people could go for that: New York rappers De La Soul. I did a double-take the first time I heard this track from 3 Feet High and Rising:

De La Soul sampling Hall & Oates? That's almost as crazy as ... Warren G sampling Michael McDonald!

(Final note: So crucial was the saxophone player to '80s music that, when it came time to do the video for "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," the filmmakers included only three musicians: Hall, Oates, and the saxophone player.)

Forty Fords

2011-08-31T22:16:00.000-07:00

As Yoggoth once put it, "I love Harrison Ford movies that don't make me cringe." Perusing this fascinating interactive graphic from the National Post, it does impress me that an actor with what you might charitably call "limited range" (hence the identical expression in every panel) has appeared in so many artistically significant films. Maybe Harrison Ford knows something about life that the rest of us don't.

Hall & Oates Discover New Wave And Run With It

2011-08-27T21:35:00.000-07:00

In Episode 2 of Yacht Rock, Oates slams Hall against the wall and shouts "Get your dick out of your heart. You even know what the kids in the street are listening to? Disco, motherfucker!" I doubt it went down quite like that, but at some point they must have turned the radio dial to a dance station and realized that their precious Philly Soul had become passe. They grabbed a synthesizer and a drum machine, and beginning with 1981's "Kiss On My List," they became ... inescapable.

Hall & Oates may have been huge, releasing five US #1 hits in the span of three years, but they weren't exactly "cool." At this point, Both Hall and Oates were in their 30s. To hip listeners, it was probably a bit like watching your dorky uncles try to "get down" with "the kids." Like any of that mattered to me. I was three years old, and as far as I was concerned, Hall & Oates were fucking gods.

My favorite moment of "You Make My Dreams" would have to be when Hall exclaims: "Now listen to this!" (at 1:43). And then nothing happens. Like, wait, what am I listening for exactly?

I remember when I was little I took "Private Eyes" literally and I imagined a bunch of private investigators in trench coats following some woman around. I didn't get the pun. "Private Eyes" may also feature the best use of hand claps in a pop song ever. And there have been a lot of pop songs with hand claps in them.

The title of "sleaziest Hall & Oates song" would have to go to "One On One," where Hall attempts to compare lovemaking to the playing of basketball:

I'm tired of playing all the team
Oh it seems I don't get time out anymore
What a change if we set the pace, face to face
No one even trying to score

Ewwww.

How do you know when you're on fire? When even the new song you tack onto your Greatest Hits collection becomes a hit! Released in conjunction with Rock 'n Soul Part I (sadly there was never a Part II), "Say It Isn't So" doesn't sound like a classic Hall & Oates single right off the bat. But Hall & Oates are like ABBA or the Bee Gees: you need to have faith. Because when the chorus arrives...well, it touches me in places I didn't know I could be touched.

Yacht Rock: Episode 7

2011-08-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

Back in the mid-90s, when I was not paying attention to rap in any way, I heard a song that I later realized was Warren G's "Regulate." But I noticed something that I'm pretty sure 90% of Death Row's target audience did not: the song sampled Michael McDonald's 1982 supermarket favorite "I Keep Forgettin' (Every Time You're Near)." I remember thinking, "Wait a second, are they really sampling Michael McDonald's 'I Keep Forgettin'?" Yes. Yes, they were.

And so we come to Yacht Rock Episode 7, which leaps ten years into the future, long past Yacht Rock's heyday. Initially, in 1982, when McDonald plays "I Keep Forgettin' " (featuring, of course, three members of Toto) to Loggins, the now hard-rocking songwriter is unimpressed. McDonald challenges him to a bet:

"God damn it Loggins, the smooth grooves of this song alone will make it to at least #2."

Although "I Keep Forgettin'" was a big hit, it nevertheless only managed to peak at #4. McDonald is undettered:

"I don't know how, and I don't know when, but my song will bounce back."

And Dr. Dre was right of course; Warren G was destined to be mellow, not aggressive. "Little brutha, you don't get it. You don't gotta be all gangsta to make it in the rap game. You gotta find a style that fits. And you're not hard. You're...smooth."

Discography Rediscovered: Trance to the Sun's "Atrocious Virgin" (2001)

2011-08-22T11:58:00.000-07:00

Here I am again with a long overdue installment of Discography Rediscovered, the series in which I look back on older albums in my music collection. This time I'm taking a look at Trance to the Sun's magnificent "Atrocious Virgin".

I happened upon this album by complete and total chance. Working at my college radio station my senior year we received hundreds of albums by various labels in the hopes we'd give some of them airtime. I never had the privilege of listening to these albums, that was handled by higher ups, and frankly I didn't care because all I wanted to play was goth/electro songs I was familiar with anyways.

One day I saw this album sitting in the throw-away bin, someone having given it a listen and decided that it stunk. I saw the cover and something about it grabbed me. I thought it was by a trance group, but the art conveyed a more artful/indie band. I fished it out of the bin, took it back to my dorm room, and discovered one of my favorite albums.

I discovered that Trance to the Sun are very much not a trance group. Instead it's akin to goth rock but with more electronics and a heavy dose of psychadelic rock, with a bit of a shoegazing vibe. The center of the band is the intriguingly named Ashkelon Sain, with various females on vocals depending on album (this album features Ingrid Blue on vocals). Atrocious Virgin, I would learn, was to be the last album by this group.

Apparently the band had been around for most of the 90s but I'd never heard of them. In fact, most people in the 'goth' scene aren't very familiar with them either, and it's virtually impossible to find their albums, even through file-sharing sites (alas I'll probably never get my hands on the"Florakleptononomy" live album).

Back to the album. It's a perfectly crafted album with dense layers of music. The songs vary from energetic rockers such as "Thistle Lurid" to slow, plodding instrumentals (such as "Icicle Song" which comes immediately after, and perfectly compliments, the former track). The whole thing is held together beautifully by Ingrid Blue's lyrics. She sounds like Lewis Carroll's Alice gone all dark and moody. While I love Blue's lyrics and voice, I could see this as a point of contention for some. If you're not into moody goth lyrics pondering death, with vocals that at times sound like a little girl (see reference to Alice above), and at times which are hard to discern, I could understand not liking them.

The production on the album is also quite a feat. The liner notes state that the album was recorded and put together over the space of a year, but you could never tell. There's something Ashkelon Sain has done here that makes the album sound like it was recorded live right in front of you in the studio. It's really phenomenal.

I'm a sucker for long, drawn out songs with multiple movements (such as Jim Steinman produced Sisters of Mercy albums), and Atrocious Virgin does not disappoint. The final track, "Song of the Silent Crew" clocks in at an impressive 17 minutes, with parts ranging from goth rock, to drum circles, and back to psychadelic rock. In short, the song would be great to drop acid to.

However, my favorite track, at a mere 11 minutes long, is "Horse Head Lake". Taking a good five minutes just to get to the first verse, Horse Head Lake is a terrific odyssey of sound, from the opening strums of the guitar, to a short spoken segment by whom I presume is Mr. Sain, to Ingrid Blue's lyrics, to the ending minute consisting of the sound of distant rain, this is just such a fantastic piece of music. Alas, the only version I can find online is a condensed version that drops those first five minutes, listen to it here.

If my review hasn't piqued your interest, then maybe Tom Schulte from AMG will. He writes, "Trance to the Sun continues where the Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd left off. A dense swirl of guitar dissonance, synth, and drum machine lying under the haunting voice of Ingrid Blue... this is an audiophile psychedelic comeback experience worthy of comparison to Pink Floyd's Meddle." Since I'm not nearly as familiar with Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd as some of the folks here at this blog, I'll leave you to decide... if you can actually find the damn album (and speaking of Pink Floyd, here's a cover off a previous album of Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun). Regardless, this is really one of my favorite albums in my collection, one I keep coming back to again and again.

Recommended tracks you can actually listen to:
Sleeping with the Natives
Thistle Lurid
Horse Head Lake (short cut)
Homewrecker (live)

Ah, So That's Where My Pet Capybara Went

2011-08-20T20:28:00.000-07:00

From Slate:

A capybara, the world’s largest rodent, is loose in California. The rodent, which officials estimate weighs between 100 and 120 pounds, was photographed last month outside of a wastewater treatment plant in Paso Robles. The semi-aquatic rodent is native to South America and normally isn’t found in the U.S. outside of a zoo. Capybaras can grow to the size of a large dog and typically prefer swampy habitats. Local officials say that someone probably had one as a pet before either losing it or letting it go.

Nibbles! I've been looking for you everywhere! Thank God you're safe.

Fish and Game spokesman Andrew Hughan told the paper that while the rodents are “weird-looking,” they normally aren’t dangerous. As a result, officials have no plans to set traps for the beast unless hunters or trappers go after it. "You can't hunt that thing," Hughan said.

No kidding. And yet, when I think about it, this might actually be only the second most disturbing thing I've ever seen in Paso Robles.

Yacht Rock: Episodes 4 And 5

2011-08-16T21:41:00.000-07:00

Episode 4:

Although the "Rosanna inspired 'Rosanna' " rumor is, as I've established, essentially false, the Yacht Rock writers gleefully run with it here. When all is said and done, Toto manages to bring Michael McDonald to this stunning conclusion: "I never knew that smooth music could rock so hard." Also, apparently there really was a skit on SCTV making fun of Michael McDonald, but I'm not sure if the footage here is from the original sketch. But yes, here we have a satirical sketch within a satirical sketch.

Yacht Rock is blowing my mind.

Episode 5:

Thumbs up for the depiction of Michael Jackson as a macho womanizer: "Fuck this smooth music, Steve! I ain't that little boy anymore, understand? How am I supposed to stick my dick into some pussy, when you got me singing like one? Hard rock has got me and Eddie drilling more cooch than Black & Decker!" Ah, but at the sight of Koko's ghost, he transforms into the tender MOR crooner as seen on this infamous record sleeve:

And yes, that is a real duet between Kenny Loggins and Steve Perry. I have it.

Toto's "Africa": Haunting, Embarrassing, Quasi-Racist, Or Some Combination Of All Three?

2011-08-13T13:52:00.001-07:00

Say it's 1982, you just bought Toto IV and you've put it on the turntable for the first time. There's "Rosanna," there's "Make Believe," some rockers, some ballads, some hits, some filler - in other words, nothing too unexpected. Finally you come to the end of the album, track number 10. There's this quiet drumbeat. Some bizarrely synthesized percussion. The verse begins:

I hear the drums echoing tonight
But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation
She's coming in 12:30 flight
The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation
I stopped an old man along the way
Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies
He turned to me as if to say , "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you"

What is this? Where's Toto? Where are we? Who's the old man? What's waiting there? What the hell is going on?

Suddenly there's a dramatic drum fill, and the Toto that we know and (slightly) love appears in its full splendor:

It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you
There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do
I bless the rains down in Africa
Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

See, you wouldn't have been crazy if you'd concluded up to this point that Toto was only capable of churning out some slick, generic pop-rock and nothing more. But you would have been wrong.

Who knew Toto had it in them? Maybe they didn't. Apparently in one UK survey, the line "I know that I must do what's right/Sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti" was voted the worst lyric of all time. I used to think it was "rises like a lepress." Either way, it's problematic.

But who cares about the ridiculous lyrics when you can savor the atmosphere? It's the little touches that impress me most, like the subtle instrumental shifts that make the last go-around of the chorus particularly powerful. Listen to how the guitars enter at 3:16, then climb even higher at 3:27. Or the soaring vocal ad-libbing around 3:32. What really does it to me every time are those little, extra-emphatic piano chords at 3:42. And then - all is quiet again. A man on the savannahs of Africa must conceal his passion, only to reveal it when the moment strikes.

I didn't think such an atmospheric song would have a video that matches the images in my head. Toto, why did I underestimate you so?

Jeff Porcaro said of the song, "... a white boy is trying to write a song on Africa, but since he's never been there, he can only tell what he's seen on TV or remembers in the past." This is hilarious, because what I picture when I hear this song is not really Africa, but some city-dwelling white guy's weird mental images of Africa. I can tell you exactly what this song reminds me of. It reminds of the displays of African wildlife I used to look at as a kid in the old Academy of Arts and Sciences in Golden Gate Park, with their cheap, fake backdrops and stiff tigers and zebras. And Boom! Toto was thinking almost the same thing.

Here we have David Paich in a rather urban-looking library, staring at a black librarian, with lots of masks and flaming torches surrounding him. So they just found some black girl to play the librarian? How much do you want to bet she was just some black girl, not African or anything, but probably just from Baltimore, and they said, "Hey, do you want to be in this video about Africa?"

Paich keeps flipping through books. What is he looking for? He's looking for a book called Africa. But little does he know, the book called Africa is sitting under the feet of Toto! At any rate, when he finally finds the book, a savage warrior throws a spear into the library, and the black librarian's glasses fall shattered to the floor as the building burns down in flames. You see, by trying to search for Africa, the White Man has been destroying Africa! Yes, Toto. Yes.

Better Late than Never: Zrbo's Favorite Game of 2009

2011-08-10T12:23:00.000-07:00

This post was originally going to update my list of favorite games of 2009 when I discovered that I had never actually made a post detailing those games. So think of this as a lost post that should have been posted a year and a half ago... if I had actually gotten around to playing my now favorite game of 2009 back then.

And the winner is... Demon's Souls! Ah, Demon's Souls, how did I not notice you back when you arrived to critical acclaim at the tail end of 2009? Even my go-to videogame review site, Gamespot, gave it the 2009 Game of the Year award and I still paid little-to-no attention to this wonderful, wonderful gem of a game.

Perhaps I didn't pay much attention to (or chose to ignore) Demon's Souls because of the reviews. The reviews were all extremely positive, but they all said the same thing: that the game is brutally difficult. And it is. Make no mistake, this is not some videogame-as-art kind of game, this is truly a gamer's game.

What makes the game so difficult? Well, to begin with, Demon's Souls eschews many facets of modern game design that have become the norm. Take the simple concept of the checkpoint. In most games the game is constantly saving your progress in the background, so that when you die you lose a few minutes of time and are usually placed near the beginning of the encounter that got you killed. Demon's Souls dumps this concept and makes it so that if you die you have to start the ENTIRE level over again, with all the enemies back in place. Not only that, but the game punishes you further by cutting your life bar in half when you die and by making you lose all of the souls (i.e., experience points) you've acquired unless you make it back to the place where you died and touch your bloodstain on the ground to retrieve your collected souls.

While that's usually the most cited reason for difficulty in Demon's Souls, there's certainly other ways the developer's have gone out of their way to make life difficult. Get this: the game does not include a pause option - as in you can't stop the game. Enemies will often be waiting in hiding and you can't see them until it's too late. If you do manage to survive to the end of the level and make it to the boss, you will find an absolutely cunning foe that requires all the skills you've learned to stay alive. And if you die during the boss fight, well it's back to the beginning of the level again.

So why would anyone go through with this torture? Well, for starters, the gameplay is just fantastic. Your character always responds to each press of the button, and the flow of combat, block, thrust, parry, block, stab, is so well honed and refined. What makes it so rewarding is that when you mess up and die from an attack it's always your error. Rarely will you have the problem of "WTF, I hit the button and my character didn't respond!". The combat mechanics work, and work well. It's just such a pleasure to engage in combat, learning all the subtle nuances of blocking, parrying, and swinging a sword around.

Another reason why the game is so fantastic is the multiplayer system. It's not however your typical multiplayer system. In Demon's Souls you play in your own world, but you can see the ghosts of other people playing in their world. This helps alleviate the lonely eerieness and sense of isolation as you wander around imposing castles, caves, and the like. Seeing someone's ghost running around gives you a sense of comfort knowing that someone else in a parallel world is going through the same tribulations.

The game makes a really wonderful use of these ghosts through the use of bloodstains. Occasionally you will stumble upon a bloodstain on the ground. When you touch it a red ghost pops up and reenacts the last few moments of another player's life so you can see how they died (watch this for an example). This is extremely useful in such an unforgivingly brutal world. You approach a blind corner, see a bloodstain on the ground and decide to touch it. A red ghost appears, runs around the blind corner, and then moments later comes running back only to keel over and die. That lets you know that there's something waiting around the corner. It's an absolutely brilliant mechanic, in that it can forewarn you about something without having the developer's resort to a sign or an NPC saying "hey you need to be careful ahead".

In addition to the bloodstain feature is a system in which other players can leave short messages scrawled on the ground that give you hints as to what to expect. It might say "Beware of the enemy ambush ahead" giving you yet another leg up. Coupled with this a recommendation system where you can recommend a message if you find it useful. The more people who recommend a message, the more likely it is to remain there, and every time someone recommends one of your messages you get a small health boost. It's an ingeniously wonderful system.

I haven't even begun to talk about the game world itself. It's a bleak, imposing world that marries elements of horror with traditional fantasy/Tolkien tropes. All the names have a decidedly Eastern European flavor to them (Boletaria, Vingard, etc.), plus there's a bit of Lovecraftian horror going on (such as the final boss known as 'the Great Old One' who looks suspiciously Cthulhu-esque). The various bosses have equally imposing names: The Adjudicator, Dirty Colossus, Maneater, Maiden Astraea, The Old Hero. The design of the various castles and settings really does evoke a sort of foggy-streets-of-Prague-at-night feeling. Overall, it's a wonderfully terrific atmosphere that further adds to the feeling of misery and gloom.

So, there you have it. Demon's Souls is a fantastic game that ignores traditional game mechanisms while bringing some wonderfully new mechanics along. When you finally manage to make your way through a forbidding castle, careful every step of the way, and manage to defeat the boss at the end, the game truly makes you feel a sense of accomplishment few other games can achieve. It's not hard for me to say that Demon's Souls is not only my favorite game of 2009, but one of my favorite games of all time.

The Ubiquity Of Toto

2011-08-09T23:00:00.000-07:00

The average man on the street may know Toto as a cheesy band that had several cheesy hit singles. What he probably doesn't know is that the musicians in Toto, apart and occasionally together, played on almost every single mainstream pop album ever.

If you were recording an album in LA in the late '70s and early '80s, Toto were your guys. Steely Dan? Call Toto. Don Henley? Call Toto. Lionel Richie? Jackson Browne? Stevie Nicks? George Benson? Call Toto.

Here's how omnipresent Toto were: they even played on parts of Pink Floyd's The Wall. Don't tell most Pink Floyd fans that.

Not only could Toto play on your album; they could help you write it. Witness Boz Scaggs' Silk Degrees, in which half the songs were co-written by David Paich. Check out this Yacht-tastic groove from drummer Jeff Porcaro on "Lowdown":

Most significantly, Toto performed on almost the entirety of Thriller, and Steve Porcaro co-wrote "Human Nature," my favorite Michael Jackson song ever. So even if nobody realized it, they were all listening to Toto, almost all the freaking time.

Around 1977, this loose collection of studio professionals, including a seemingly limitless number of Porcaro brothers, decided that, hey, if they were already playing together so much of the damn time, maybe they should just form a band and get it over with. A bland, faceless corporate band, but a band nonetheless. It's sort of like one of those opposite sex friendships where you're not really attracted to each other but you've gotten to know each other so well and the tension has been building for so long you just get lazy and say, "Why don't we just go out with each other so we don't have to keep looking for someone else?"

Toto scored right out of the box in 1978 with the very catchy and very meaningless "Hold The Line":

Although they continued to work as steadily as ever, the hits under their own name began to dry up. That's when Steve Porcaro decided to date Rosanna Arquette. Actually, despite the widely spread rumor, according to Wikipedia, "Rosanna" is not about Rosanna Arquette at all:

This song has been widely misunderstood to refer to the band member Steve Porcaro's defunct relationship with actress Rosanna Arquette. However, this was actually just a coincidence. The rest of the song had already been finished, and Paich needed a name that fit well into the chorus.

Well OK, but gee, I wonder how anybody ever got the impression it was about Rosanna Arquette. They could have picked another three-syllable name, right? And no, that is not her in the video.

Also, did you know that the drum pattern on "Rosanna" is called the "Rosanna Shuffle"? I didn't know that either.

This song is routinely referenced by drummers as being a perfect example of a "half-time shuffle" (Purdie shuffle) and shows, "definite jazz influence". Featuring ghost notes and derived from the combination of what Jeff Porcaro calls the "Bernard Purdie half time shuffle" and the "John Bonham beat" (from "Fool in the Rain") with the well-known Bo Diddley beat. The pattern is notoriously difficult and played by Jeff Porcaro on the recording.

"Ghost notes"? Toto, you're spooking me out more than Vincent Price's monologue on "Thriller."

Yacht Rock: Episodes 1 And 2

2011-08-06T20:11:00.000-07:00

And now, ladies and gentlemen, we finally come to Episodes 1 and 2 of Yacht Rock. Hopefully, courtesy of my brief Yacht Rock tutorial, you will now grasp the hilarity of every obscure reference and subtle joke, as I do.

Here at the start, I think the show hadn't quite found the proper mockery/affection balance, leaning perhaps a little too far toward mockery, but this would correct itself in time. I should also mention that the YouTube video quality of Episode 1 is not so hot, making the show look cheaper than it really is, but bear with me: all subsequent episodes look better. Most of the characters, as we've established, are real, but I can confirm that Koko Goldstein is an entirely fictitious creation. Christopher Cross' real name really was Christopher Geppert, and yes, that is a piece of straw in his mouth, supposedly signifying his innocent country hayseed background. Without further ado:

Episode 1:

Episode 2:

The Meekness Of Christopher Cross

2011-08-02T20:13:00.000-07:00

It's been said that the Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star" was written about Christopher Cross. While probably not true, it might as well have been. Christopher Cross lacked, shall we say, visual charisma. At least the similarly pudgy Elton John dressed up as Donald Duck and Mozart. Christopher Cross just dressed up as ... Christopher Cross.

But who needs looks when you've got such a ... weird, wimpy voice? Cross's self-titled debut album, loaded with soft rock gems, famously won the Album of the Year Grammy over The Wall. Other albums released that year: London Calling, Tusk, Fear Of Music, Unknown Pleasures, Off The Wall. But clearly none of them held a candle to Christopher Cross!

I find it hard to buy Cross as a gun-toting outlaw. "I was born the son of a lawless man/Always spoke my mind with a gun in my hand." Yeah, what, like a glue gun? Michael McDonald's transcendent backing vocals almost make me believe it. Maybe. Not really.

More convincing is "Sailing," which may very well be the purest four minutes and fifteen seconds of Yacht Rock ever recorded.

Yet Cross's finest moment may have come at the hands of a resuscitated Burt Bacharach and a drunken Dudley Moore. Even the black guy with a tambourine is gripped by the song's melancholy power. "Arthur's Theme (The Best That You Can Do)" would also hold a prominent place in my as-yet-to-be-assembled "Greatest Saxophone Solos of the '80s" mix.

Hall & Oates: Something Silly From Philly

2011-07-28T20:17:00.000-07:00

Michael McDonald was one white guy trying to sound black. Imagine two white guys trying to sound black. Although, on their first album, Whole Oats (ha ha, get it?), Hall & Oates sounded surprisingly Loggins & Messina-esque:

It wasn't until their second album, Abandoned Luncheonette, and its hit single "She's Gone," that the boys really showed the world what they were made of:

After an awkward pairing with producer and fellow Philly legend Todd Rundgren on War Babies (featuring such memorable song titles as "Beanie G. and the Rose Tattoo," War Baby Son of Zorro," and "Screaming Through December"), Hall & Oates hit their late '70s stride. Many of their biggest '80s hits, including "You Make My Dreams," "Private Eyes," "I Can't Go For That (No Can Do)," and "Maneater," would eventually be co-written by Hall's longtime girlfriend Sara Allen, the subject of the beguiling "Sara Smile":

Then there came the day when they realized they could rhyme "rich" with "bitch." The dollar signs began flashing right in front of their eyes:

But as the '70s wound down, our ambiguously gay duo hit a rough patch. No, not until the calendar flipped over into that magical decade of synthesizers and hairspray would the pair become an unstoppable force the likes of which pop music had rarely seen.

The Loggins/McDonald Alliance Is Born

2011-07-22T20:57:00.000-07:00

Lennon/McCartney, Jagger/Richards ... Loggins/McDonald. Doesn't quite have the same ring to it, does it? But probably more Grammys.

In 1979 the Loggins/McDonald alliance revealed itself to the world with two irresistible slices of AM majesty. Although released on Loggins' solo album Keep The Fire, "This Is It" was co-written by (and features prominent backing vocals from) a certain Doobie Brother. You may assume that this pure chunk of late '70s smoothness is a simple, generic love song. However, you would be wrong. From Wikipedia:

At one point in the song's evolution, its melody was underway, but the lyrics were incomplete. Loggins moved it forward after a visit to his ailing father, who had undergone a series of surgeries for vascular problems stemming from small strokes and was discouraged at the prospect of another. His perspective on the lyrics then changed: "'I've got it,' I announced to Michael, it's not a love song. It's a life song."

Yes, Kenny, a "life" song - from two men who truly know a thing or two about life. Although the one needing medical attention might be Kenny and not his father. He can't even breathe properly. "Theeeeeere've been times in my liiiiiiife/I've been wondering whyyyyy/Still somehow I believe we always surviiiiiiiive." Somebody get the man a doctor.

The second major collaboration, "What A Fool Believes," as initially released on Loggins' solo album Nightwatch, doesn't sound like much - maybe a filler track at best, or a Steely Dan B-side.

McDonald must have heard this version and thought, "Jesus, Kenny, what the hell did you do to our song?" (As one YouTube user put it, "Kenny Loggins Is My Dude...But im Sure A Gang of Yall Agree...He Aint Fuckin Wit Micheal Mac on This Joint.") Because in the supple hands of the Doobie Brothers, "What A Fool Believes" became a beast, with more hooks than a fishing supply store. This brutal combination of stately piano, wobbly synthesizer, judiciously placed hand claps, soaring falsetto chorus, and a poignant lyric of unrequited love pushed disco from the top of the charts for a couple of weeks in 1979. Disco! In 1979! Allegedly, one of the soaring falsetto vocals in the background is Michael Jackson, but the army of multi-tracked McDonalds is so overpowering, it's hard to tell.

For our Yacht Rock heroes, what a long, strange trip it had been. Ah, but while Loggins and McDonald were slowly rising to glory in Los Angeles, thousands of miles away, in the gritty city of Philadelphia, another fateful pairing was laying down a challenge.

The Rise Of Michael McDonald

2011-07-17T22:10:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was an early '70s rock band called the Doobie Brothers. Led by Tom Johnston and Patrick Simmons, the Doobies played a mixture of countrified, good ol' boy blues rock in the mold of the Allman Brothers, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Grand Funk Railroad, maybe with a dash of the Band and CCR thrown in. The Doobies could blow out your car speakers with a killer riff a la "China Grove":

Or they could slow things down with a sweet Southern ballad like "Black Water":

Given their success in this style, it seemed like the Doobies could have gone on as boogie rockers for a while. But around 1975, lead singer Tom Johnston began experiencing health problems and took a leave of absence. Guitarist Jeff "Skunk" Baxter, who had recently joined the Doobies from Steely Dan (after Donald Fagen and Walter Becker turned Steely Dan into a studio-only enterprise), recommended one of Steely Dan's back-up singers to potentially take Johnston's place.

Enter a white guy with a beard who thought he was Ray Charles: Michael McDonald.

McDonald had been kicking around for a while when he became a favorite of Becker and Fagen. His most famous Steely Dan appearance is probably "Peg":

Suddenly, with the addition of McDonald, the Doobies got a little less bluesy and a little more...smooth. McDonald hijacked the band's sound with his soulful yet silky pipes:

Old Doobie Brothers fans cried foul, but thousands of new fans flocked to the smooth grooves of the McDonald sound. Little did he know, but McDonald would suddenly find a new, unexpected ally in smoothness.

The Rise Of Kenny Loggins

2011-07-14T19:17:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a band called Buffalo Springfield. Featuring three songwriters in Stephen Stills, Neil Young, and Richie Furay, Buffalo Springfield were one of the more promising California folk-rock bands, arguably rivaled only by The Byrds. But the band never quite capitalized on the momentum generated by their one big hit, "For What It's Worth" (otherwise known as "Stop, Hey, What's That Sound"):

By 1968, the band was falling apart. Enter a Texas musician named Jim Messina.

After kicking around in several obscure bands and learning the tricks of the recording studio, Messina ended up being asked to produce what would be the third and final Buffalo Springfield album. But in addition to producing the album, Messina ended up playing on it, essentially becoming a member of the band. While Stills and Young drifted off into obscurity (I mean whatever happened to those guys?), Furay and Messina decided to start a country rock group named Poco. After three mildly successful albums of mellow California goodness, Messina left the group, unsure of where he wanted to go next.

Enter Kenneth Clark Loggins.

Could there be a better last name for a '70s California country rock musician than "Loggins"? Think about it. From Wikipedia:

Jim Messina, formerly of Poco and Buffalo Springfield, was working as an independent record producer for Columbia Records in 1970 when he met Kenny Loggins, a little-known singer/songwriter who was signed to ABC-Dunhill. The two recorded a number of Loggins' compositions in Messina's home living room. When Columbia signed Loggins to a six-album contract (with the assistance of Messina), recording began in earnest for Loggins' debut album, with Messina as producer. Messina originally intended to lend his name to the Loggins project only to help introduce the unknown Loggins to Messina's well-established Buffalo Springfield and Poco audiences. But by the time the album was completed, Messina had contributed so much to the album - in terms of songwriting, arrangement, instrumentation, and vocals - that an "accidental" duo was born.

Together, Loggins & Messina spun their soft rock magic throughout the early '70s. They could burn the house down with an uptempo 12-bar blues rocker like "Your Mama Don't Dance":

Or they could break your heart with a folk-rock ballad like "Danny's Song," written by Kenny as a tribute to his brother, who was having his first child:

But ultimately, Kenny wanted more. He wanted worldwide glory and fame. Mostly he wanted to create Smooth Music. Maybe Stevie Nicks wasn't the new partner he was looking for:

No, it wasn't until he teamed up with another '70s Mellow Rock icon that Yacht Rock was truly born.

Yacht Rock

2011-07-09T21:51:00.001-07:00

What is Yacht Rock?

This may be one of the key questions of our existence, along with "What happens when we die?" and "Why do fools fall in love?"

One way to answer the question is to say that Yacht Rock isn't so much a style of music as it is a state of mind. Yacht Rock is an ice cold beer on the beach. Yacht Rock is a cruise down Highway 1 as the sun sets. Yacht Rock is a swim in a Pasadena pool on the Fourth of July.

To be more specific, Yacht Rock is, according to Wikipedia, "an online video series following the fictionalized lives and careers of American soft rock stars of the late 1970s and early 1980s."

It is, quite simply, the greatest online video series of all time.

The Wikipedia article elaborates:

In the musical sense, yacht rock refers to the highly polished brand of soft rock that emanated from Southern California during the late 1970s and early 1980s. In part, the term relates to the stereotype of the yuppie yacht owner, enjoying smooth music while out for a sail. Additionally, since sailing was a popular leisure activity in Southern California, many "yacht rockers" made nautical references in their lyrics, videos, and album artwork, particularly the anthemic track "Sailing" by Christopher Cross.

With my respects to Jeff Foxworthy:

If you know that Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald wrote many songs together which they did not necessarily record together, then Yacht Rock may be for you.

If you know that Toto helped Michael Jackson make Thriller, then Yacht Rock may be for you.

If you know that Jeff "Skunk" Baxter was in both Steely Dan and the Doobie Brothers, then Yacht Rock may be for you.

If you know that Warren G and Nate Dogg sampled Michael McDonald's "I Keep Forgettin' (Every Time You're Near)" as the basis for "Regulate," then Yacht Rock may be for you.

If you know that Giorgio Moroder produced "Danger Zone," then Yacht Rock may be for you.

Even if you don't know any of these details, Yacht Rock may still be for you. But as a shameless aficionado of late '70s/early '80s soft rock, I am, quite simply, the target audience of Yacht Rock.

Yacht Rock captures the thrill of being a knowledgeable pop music fan. My dream is to one day write a book called "1969," in which I write about all my favorite acts from my favorite year in music (1969), and one segment would link to the next, since so many of the musicians of the late '60s were actually friends with each other. I love the idea of an era of pop music almost being like a little gang, where so-and-so played with so-and-so, who was friends with so-and-so, who was also produced by so-and-so. Yacht Rock is like Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald banding together to save the world.

And what's an internet TV series without an AMG guy? That's right, the "host" of the series is a man going by the name of "Hollywood Steve," otherwise known as AllMusic's own Steve Huey. I would say that Huey is one of the better AMG reviewers, almost on the level of Erlewine or Unterberger. Here, for example, are his reviews of Black Sabbath's Paranoid, The Sex Pistol's Never Mind The Bollocks, Violent Femmes' Violent Femmes, Pearl Jam's Ten, and Dr. Dre's The Chronic. Whenever I read a Steve Huey review, I feel that I am in good hands. On camera, however, he clearly has a snarky, juvenile, and disturbing sense of humor, looking for all the world like Weird Al's long-lost brother.

The production values of Yacht Rock are about on the level of the production values in my own film making group - arguably even lower. Quite how the show got the rights to all these extremely commercial hits is unclear. Perhaps they didn't.

My plan is to share some of my favorite episodes of Yacht Rock with you, dear readers. However, concerned that you may not grasp many of the references, I have decided to offer a brief Yacht Rock refresher course. Soon you will know more about Christopher Cross and Hall & Oates than you ever wanted to know.

In a sense, the origins of Yacht Rock go back to the origins of pop music itself. But for the sake of expediency, I will begin our history in the late '60s.

Act IV, Scene 20 (He He)

2011-07-06T22:10:00.000-07:00

Was Shakespeare A Stoner? - Slate's Browbeat Blog

What next? "Milton Was A Meth Head"? "Edmund Spenser Sniffed Glue?"

The '80s Tape: Playlist Version

2011-07-04T10:33:00.000-07:00

Now that the complete track listing of The '80s Tape has been posted (I assume you are still recovering from its blinding magnificence), I am going to attempt to satisfy the request of a certain loyal Cosmic American Blog reader by putting together a "playlist" version, so that readers can, in effect, listen to these YouTube clips as if they were listening to a genuine mp3 mix. In certain cases, I have swapped out video clips with non-video clips that feature higher sound quality, in order to improve overall listenability. Let's see how this works:

The '80s Tape: Tracks 19-23

2011-06-30T22:34:00.001-07:00

19. Lionel Richie - "You Are" (1982) [Chart Peak: #4]

20. Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton - "Islands In The Stream" (1983) [Chart Peak: #1]

21. Kenny Loggins - "Heart To Heart" (1983) [Chart Peak: #15]

22. Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton - "We've Got Tonight" (1983) [Chart Peak: #6]

23. Billy Joel - "Tell Her About It" (1983) [Chart Peak: #1]

The '80s Tape: Tracks 13-18

2011-06-25T19:53:00.000-07:00

13. Toto - "Rosanna" (1982) [Chart Peak: #2]

14. Toto - "Make Believe" (1982) [Chart Peak: #30]

15. Toto - "I Won't Hold You Back" (1982) [Chart Peak: #10]

16. Toto - "Africa" (1982) [Chart Peak: #1]

17. Eurythmics - "Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)" (1983) [Chart Peak: #1]

18. Earth, Wind & Fire - "September" (1978) [Chart Peak: #8]

The '80s Tape: Tracks 7-12

2011-06-21T20:17:00.000-07:00

7. Sergio Mendes - "Alibis" (1984) [Chart Peak: #29]

8. Sheena Easton - "For Your Eyes Only" (1981) [Chart Peak: #4]

9. Survivor - "Eye Of The Tiger" (1982) [Chart Peak: #1]

10. Kool & The Gang - "Tonight" (1984) [Chart Peak: #13]

11. Huey Lewis & The News - "Heart and Soul" (1983) [Chart Peak: #8]

12. The Alan Parsons Project - "Prime Time" (1984) [Chart Peak: #34]

The '80s Tape: Tracks 1-6

2011-06-18T11:13:00.000-07:00

1. David Bowie - "Let's Dance" (1983) [Chart Peak: #1]

2. Eddie Rabbitt and Crystal Gayle - "You and I" (1982) [Chart Peak: #7]

3. James Ingram and Michael McDonald - "Yah Mo B There" (1983) [Chart Peak: #19]

4. Hall & Oates - "Kiss on My List" (1981) [Chart Peak: #1]

5. Joe Jackson - "You Can't Get What You Want (Till You Know What You Want)" (1984) [Chart Peak: #15]

6. The Go-Go's - "Head Over Heels" (1984) [Chart Peak: #11]

Lost Memories

2011-06-16T11:33:00.000-07:00

I've been planning to write this well before Little Earl's '80's Tape piece, but it seems somewhat complimentary to his so now's a good time as any.

I don't know about you but occasionally there are bits of my memory that aren't perfect. I remember something slightly but not enough to recall the full memory. This usually crops up with old songs that I remember a line or two of. I might remember a phrase or a melody but don't have enough to go on to recall the full song or even enough to search Google for the lyrics. Recently, through luck and occasionally complete serendipity, I've completed these memories and now share them with you:

I have a foggy memory of a school dance. I think I was in middle school. There's a slow song playing and we're all awkwardly dancing like you do in middle school, technically you're touching a girl but you're standing as far apart as possible. The song has some lady singing some quiet ballad. But then I also remember some woman singing really vampy too, something like "you better hope and pray..." and that's all I can remember. Maybe these were two different songs, I can't remember.

I had this one line stuck in my head for many, many years, I could hear this lady singing it, but I couldn't remember anything further. Years ago I tried searching the internet but with no success. Then sometime in the last six months the next line jumped in my head, something like "waking in your own world". Googling this and BAM! there it is, in all it's glory, "Stay" by Shakespear's Sister (that's how you spell it, don't ask me). Wow, this brings me back to the early 90s. It's a silly little ballady pop song, but somewhere in my heart I have a place for it, perhaps due to my long search and years of not knowing just what the hell that damn song is called! Well, here it is folks:

Little known fact: apparently vampy girl was terribly drunk when her part was filmed since she had been waiting around all day with nothing to do while the rest of the video was being shot.

Now it's the mid-90s and I'm in the boys locker room in high school. There's a bunch of those Mexican gangsta looking kids and maybe some white boy wanna-be gangsta guys. They keeping singing some hip hop song about a hurricane. I remember hearing it on KMEL even (though why I would have been listening to KMEL is beyond me, maybe someone had a portable radio?). Somehow a part of the song gets lodged in my head, something like, "Hurricane, but you can call me something something". Dammit, what is it?? For years this bit of a line is stuck in my noggin, and I keep hoping that maybe in some best of the 90s retrospect on VH1 it will pop up, but alas, maybe it was all just a dream?

Then recently I'm reading some article on the AV Club. Someone in the comments mentioned a hurricane and some poster (God bless 'em) responds with "but you can call me slurricane!" THAT'S IT!! That's the next line! Googling quick I come upon this golden gem by The Click, and they're apparently from Vallejo. Ahhh, the high school locker room memories...

That "dah da da da da da da" is sure damn catchy.

My third and final memory goes back, way back (is this The Tree of Life?). I'm probably no more than 8 years old, maybe even younger. I'm with a friend, let's just call him Macklan, and there's a game we used to play a lot of on his dad's old Atari. It's like Space Invaders but not quite the same. I really don't remember a lick of info beyond that. Then I'm sitting here at my job, unboxing things related to the history of early computing, when I find a familiar looking box. A very familiar looking box. Wait, that picture, I... remember. The game: Demon Attack. Oh yeah, it's like Space Invaders BUT BETTER. Wow, this is something I thought I'd never ever find the true name of, and now the box is sitting right in front of me, complete with the cool looking alien spaceship and everything!

Trust me, this was pretty damn awesome back in the day.

And there you have it folks. I can now die having lived a happy, fulfilling life - one full of memories of wanna be space invaders, mid 90s hip-hop, and vampy space ballads.

The '80s Tape

2011-06-15T18:33:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there was a black TDK cassette. It looked something like this:

Sometime in 1984, my mother used this cassette to tape several songs off Top 40 radio. My mother and I didn't always get along too well, but with this tape, I must admit that she created a masterpiece. She was not a person who intellectualized music the way that I do. But here, she possessed the instincts of a natural.

Although by accident rather than design, the tape became a perfect slice, an expert capsule of what pop music in 1984 was all about. Most of the major artists of that time were represented in some fashion. Almost every song was a winner. Even the duds were mostly tolerable. Huge hits sat next to relatively lower-charting gems. Songs that I still hear on the radio to this day were nestled against songs that, for years, I had only heard on that tape.

The '80s Tape had some idiosyncratic features. In a painfully hilarious way, the tape captured the passive-aggressive nature of my parents' relationship. Initially, I believe my father had used it to tape some of his favorite songs off his LP copy of Toto's monster album Toto IV. I guess he only wanted to listen to the four big hit singles (which were "Rosanna," "Make Believe," "I Won't Hold You Back," and "Africa") and didn't feel like lifting the needle. Or he wanted to hear the songs in the car. At any rate, my mother apparently took the tape and recorded her own songs over it. But she did a sloppy job. So on Side One of the tape, "Rosanna" played in totality, and then about a minute of the way through "Make Believe," there was a loud click, and then the tape began playing the last minute or so of David Bowie's "Let's Dance," before slipping into some DJ banter.

My father later grabbed the tape and must have realized, with horror, what my mother had done. Undeterred, he simply taped the four Toto songs onto the start of Side Two, my mother's songs be damned. So the tape as I knew it featured the four Toto songs at the start of Side Two, complete with silence in between, so it was obviously not the radio, and then when "Africa" faded into the ghostly Saharan night, suddenly there was another loud click, and you heard the last minute or so of the Eurythmics' "Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)." And the rest of Side Two consisted of my mother's songs.

Certain songs were missing their opening seconds. And little bits of opening seconds were sandwiched in between completed songs. I specifically remember the introductory piano notes of Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock And Roll" left dangling uncompleted between two cuts. One song was even recorded twice, for some bizarre reason. But all these little quirks were part of the '80s Tape's charm.

Despite the battle for supremacy, both mother and father agreed to listen to the tape in the car, and it became a staple of our family drives. I can't say how long, precisely, it reigned, but at some point, it must have fallen out of favor, perhaps to make way for the new Madonna or Gloria Estefan album.

Almost ten years later, in 1994, I was rummaging around in the house when I stumbled upon a black TDK cassette. "What is this?" I thought to myself. I plopped it into the stereo, and instantly I knew. "Ah, The '80s Tape." The memories came flooding back, and flooding back hard. The tape seemed to be particularly evocative of night time drives through San Francisco, for reasons that remain mysterious to me. I have no specific memory of driving through San Francisco at night listening to the tape. Perhaps a couple such drives took place. Doesn't matter. The tape, to this day, still reminds me of that vibe. It's a good vibe. As a child, the city seemed vast and glorious and impossibly mysterious. I liked the city more than the trailer park in Half Moon Bay, I can tell you that.

So when I rediscovered the '80s Tape in 1994, all those associations came back with it. I listened to that tape the entirety of my freshman year of high school. I went to the library and tried to find out the names of all the songs on the tape, and the artists who recorded them. This was before the internet, folks. Finally, I got sick of the tape again and discovered alternative rock. Not really. But I moved on to other albums. I did keep The '80s Tape around, however. I believe I still have it to this day. It's sitting in a corner of my room with all the other cassettes I never listen to anymore but don't have the nerve to throw out.

And yet, although the tape itself has been retired, the music lives on. One night in college, I downloaded each of its songs and reconstructed the running order on my computer. It was strange to hear the tracks without the awkward endings and occasional radio static. But the overall spirit remained.

And now, for the benefit of the readers of Cosmic American Blog, I am about to perform a similar reconstruction, this time through the powers of YouTube. A few words before I do.

I am going to post about six videos per post, free of commentary. Whenever possible, I am going to post the official music video. When no such video is available, I am going to post an audio-only version or a reasonably representative live version. As mentioned, both sides of the tape began with Toto's "Rosanna." I am only going to feature it once here. Likewise, Michael McDonald and James Ingram's "Yah Mo B There" was recorded by my mother twice. Maybe she really liked "Yah Mo B There"; maybe she'd forgotten that she'd already recorded it. However, I am only going to include it once. You will notice that a couple of tracks actually date from the late '70s. I'm not exactly sure how Top 40 stations chose their playlists back in the day, but apparently they were willing to stretch a few years back. More analysis to follow. But first, without further ado: The '80s Tape.

Why I Like The Pitchfork 500

2011-06-09T19:17:00.000-07:00

Let's be honest: the Pitchfork 500 essentially overlaps with my taste in music. There are not too many of my absolute favorite artists from 1977-2007 who are not represented on the list. Sure, they left out some late '70s mainstream acts I would have included, such as latter-day Pink Floyd, latter-day Rolling Stones, the Bee Gees, or even Supertramp. But we do get Fleetwood Mac, Steely Dan, ABBA, and the Electric Light Orchestra, so those bases are sort of covered by implication. Likewise, the Pitchfork 500 overlooks a lot of cherished '80s pop guilty pleasures of mine, such as George Michael, Janet Jackson, Phil Collins, Lionel Richie, Billy Joel - the list is endless. But hey, they do include Michael Jackson, Madonna, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Hall & Oates, and even Journey for God's sake. So the cheese is not completely unrepresented.

According to Pitchfork, between 1977 and 2007, country music did not exist. Unless you count Wilco or the Meat Puppets. I wouldn't argue with them too loudly, but one late '70s Willie Nelson song might have been nice.

They do a nice job with rap, which constitutes about 10% of the list, but I explored rap so thoroughly back in 2008 that there were few new discoveries for me here. Although there were a few, such as Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock's "It Takes Two," Souls of Mischief's "93 Til Infinity," and the Geto Boys' "Mind Playing Tricks On Me."

More objectionable to my peers, I imagine, rather than myself, is the absence of many "significant" '90s American rock acts, such as Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, or the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But Green Day, Weezer, Smashing Pumpkins, and Nine Inch Nails all make an appearance, so it's not explicitly anti-American mainstream rock per se. Mostly I think Pitchfork just wanted to make a "different" kind of list, for better or worse. Besides, I know from their other reviews that they do in fact like Pink Floyd and Pearl Jam and many of these bands. I understand; you can't include everybody.

And yes, if an alien landed on Planet Earth and asked me to give him a list of the 500 best songs between 1977-2007, I would not give him this list. But I'm not an alien, am I?

Maybe four or five years ago, I wouldn't have been interested in the Pitchfork 500. See, I used to get all worked up if I downloaded something that I didn't think was very good, because, man, it was such a waste of time to listen to something I didn't really like. But now...I've got time to waste. Sure, I'll sit there and listen to some post-punk album that kind of stinks. Because hey, what the hell else am I going to do?

I used to be an AMG Five Star Purist. If an album didn't receive five stars in the All Music Guide, I didn't want to have anything to do with it. The most enthusiastic four-and-a-half star review was not good enough for me. Was it essential? No? Forget it.

Then a funny thing happened. I finally heard just about every five star album in the All Music Guide. Now four-and-a-half star albums don't seem so bad. Maybe even some four star albums. Maybe even some three star albums! Two-and-a-half stars is pushing it.

So for someone who had run out of music to explore, the Pitchfork 500 was like a goldmine. And divorced from the actual writing, as simply a list of songs, it was terrific. It was like a big pile of eclectic, smartly-chosen music. That doesn't mean I don't think it could have been better. It could have been much better. But as a tool for exploring music from the '80s and '90s, it was pretty damn handy.

I decided to treat the Pitchfork 500, however flawed, as an opportunity - as a road map for further music exploration. I decided to take my time. If I came to a song on the list by an artist I was unfamiliar with, and I liked the song, then I would download an album of theirs, with guidance from AMG. Maybe I would download their whole discography. Who could say? Maybe I would download an album from a band not featured on the Pitchfork 500, but listed as a "similar" artist to a Pitchfork 500 band on AMG.

In this manner, I quickly found myself knee deep in the '80s.

And I quickly realized that my fear of someday running out of worthwhile music to acquire was unfounded. There are simply too many different little genres and subgenres to explore, particularly in England: New Wave, Post-Punk, Dance Pop, Jangle Pop, Pop Metal, Thrash Metal, Shoegaze, Lo-Fi, Industrial, Electronica, Sadcore, Neo-Glam, Post-Glam, Sad-Glam ... OK now I'm just making them up. And all the different record label "scenes," like SST, IRS, Rough Trade, 4AD, Creation, Sub Pop, Matador...dare I go on? Apparently there was a whole scene built up around Sarah Records. What the hell is Sarah Records?!

Ah, we'll find out soon enough. But first, a discussion of '80s music of an altogether different kind.

Why I Don't Like The Pitchfork 500 - Part III

2011-06-04T19:26:00.000-07:00

I guess I prefer lists that present themselves as simply one person's taste in music (like our own Top Ten Albums of the '90s, for instance). Because once you start trying to pass of a list as "definitive," you're basically trying to tell other people what music they should like, and in the process, you somewhat make an ass of yourself.

Witness the writing in this book. My lord, the writing. It suffers from the same problem, I feel, from which most contemporary critical writing suffers: the writers share very little about their own personal experience with the subject. They're trying really hard to say something "new" about music that's already been written about, but mostly they're making up nonsense. They would have come much closer to saying something "new" if they'd simply written from a more personal perspective. In addition to being obnoxious, the writers also frequently get their facts wrong, misquoting lyrics and attributing singing parts to the wrong singers in certain bands. I could go all day, but I have other things to do.

Well, one more thing. Their attempt to emphasize "the song" over "the album" mostly backfires. Often they seem to realize that they need to represent a significant album somewhere on the list, so they simply pick one song from a great album out of many other equally strong possibilities. Maybe some albums contain more than one of the "Greatest Songs From Punk To The Present"? Doesn't matter. They only choose one song per album, no matter how loaded the with classics the album may be. It makes some sense; who wants to list half the songs on London Calling? But it's disingenuous to pretend that they only picked "the greatest songs." Besides, in the essays for certain songs, you can tell the writers just wanted to write about the whole album, and they barely even discuss the actual song they've chosen. "But no, we can't pick an album because this list is about songs." Oh, right.

And what does it mean for a piece of music to be "significant" and "influential," anyway? I think music can be significant and influential in many ways.

One way to measure the influence of a musician is to see how many other musicians who followed ended up creating music in a similar style. This is probably the definition of "influential" that Pitchfork has in mind. But hell, you could say that Alabama and Reba McEntire were extremely influential, in that the sheer volume of modern music that owes something to their borderline Adult Contemporary approach to '80s country could fill the Caspian Sea. Does that make them "great"? I would not say so. Music can't just be "influential." It has to be something more.

If you ask me, to measure influence within the confines of some sort of linear musical narrative is to only measure a small slice of what music can mean to people. The other aspect of "influence" is the amount of influence a piece of music can have on an individual's life and philosophy. For example: many rock critics would say that Pink Floyd's The Wall was not very influential on music, in the sense that few later acts tried to emulate its "meticulously produced rock opera" style, whereas they would say that The Sex Pistols' Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols was, in the sense that many later acts did decide to emulate its "we can't play worth a damn but who really gives a shit" style. But personally, The Wall (with its message against self-imposed isolation) has been more influential in my own life than Never Mind The Bollocks has (with its message of...telling the Queen to piss off?). So to look at "influence" only in terms of some historical artistic narrative is to view influence in a narrow and limited way.

But in order to talk about that kind of influence, the Pitchfork writers would have to share much more personal information about themselves. Which is something they don't seem very interested in doing.

Why I Don't Like The Pitchfork 500 - Part II

2011-05-31T20:32:00.000-07:00

No, this list is not completely ridiculous. It does not entirely exclude mainstream music. And maybe there wouldn't be anything wrong with a list that did. But why throw a bone to mainstream music while essentially marginalizing it? It's like "Yeah, we know, some commercial hits were really good." Some? Thanks Pitchfork, I'm glad I have your permission.

Or maybe they have a heart after all. Maybe they anticipated that their list would be accused of being too snobby, or maybe they actually appreciate and respect some mainstream music, but regardless of the reason, there are some very well-known, commercially successful songs from the last 30 years included in the Pitchfork 500. I'd say about 10-15% of the songs either charted on the U.S. Billboard Top 40, or appeared on albums that charted on the U.S. Billboard Top 40. So good job, guys.

But the mainstream choices that they make! Dear God! Some examples:

1) Bruce Springsteen. They don't overlook Bruce Springsteen. Actually, I'm not sure I would have minded if they did. But they don't. So what songs do they pick? "Hungry Heart"? "Born In The U.S.A.?" "Glory Days"? Oh no. No, they pick "Atlantic City" and "I'm On Fire." Why, because they are cool, artsy Springsteen and not as obvious?

2) U2. Sure, they pick a couple of U2 songs. "One"? "With Or Without You?" Nope: "New Year's Day" from War and "Bad" from The Unforgettable Fire. Apparently U2 disappeared off the face of the earth after 1985. Come on. You mean to tell me that "Bad" is a "greater" song than anything off The Joshua Tree or Achtung, Baby? I know you guys don't really believe that. But you sat around and thought, "Well, everybody knows those songs, and they appear on plenty of other lists, so let's leave them off ours."

3) Same with R.E.M. Sure, they're on the list, but only "Radio Free Europe" and "South Central Rain," before they went completely downhill in ... what, 1986?

4) Nirvana. We get two Nirvana songs: "Smells Like Teen Spirit," which is a well-known song, and "Scentless Apprentice" from In Utero, which is not. Why not represent In Utero with "Heart-Shaped Box," "All Apologies," or even "Serve The Servants"? Because they want to be kooky, that's why.

In so many places, the choices reek of posturing. Why The Sugarhill Gang's "8th Wonder" and not "Rapper's Delight"? Find me a person who thinks "8th Wonder" is either better or more significant than "Rapper's Delight." No solo John Lennon (he still wasn't dead yet), but Yoko Ono's "Walking On Thin Ice?" Sure, I guess so. The Pet Shop Boys are on here, but it's their 1990 single "Being Boring." Just go with "West End Girls" and stop trying to be so contrarian, damn it. Talking Heads' album Remain In Light is represented by "Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On)," not "Once In A Lifetime." Hey, I probably like "Born Under Punches" just as much as "Once In A Lifetime," but come on.

I mean, if they called it "500 Overlooked Songs From 1977-2007," then I wouldn't be as irritated. But no, these are the "essential" songs, not the overlooked songs. The problem is, if an alien landed on Planet Earth and asked me to give him a list of the 500 best songs between 1977-2007, I would not give him this list. Or how about "500 Songs From 1977-2007 That A Person With A Passing Interest In Popular Music Might Not Be Totally Familiar With." And if they called it that, I would be OK. But no, they really wanted to pass this off as some sort of Definitive List. Like, "If you don't hear an artist that's not on our list, you aren't missing anything." Which is obnoxious.

Why I Don't Like The Pitchfork 500 - Part I

2011-05-28T13:53:00.000-07:00

Some people know more about music than other people do. However, it's not the knowledge itself, but what we choose to do with our knowledge that truly separates the ignorant from the enlightened. If you are one of these knowledgeable people, and you come across a person who is less knowledgeable than you, do you A) try to share your knowledge with that person in the hopes of making him or her happier, or do you B) boast about how much more you know than that other person and try to cultivate within yourself a cheap sense of superiority? If you answered B), then you may be a writer for Pitchfork Media.

The Pitchfork 500 is not just "Our Guide To The Greatest Songs From Punk To The Present." It's also "Our Guide In Which We Point Out To Lazy Mainstream Music Fans How Little They Know About Every Indie Subgenre Of The Last Thirty Years." In short, it's the snobbiest list of music from 1977-2007 that you've ever seen in your life.

Sure, I can understand. It's annoying to see a list like, for example (to talk about the '90s for a second), VH1's Top 100 Songs of the '90s. This list looks for all the world like it was compiled by a record executive. There are no weird choices, no surprising choices, no idiosyncratic choices. This VH1 list asks nothing of the reader, fails to challenge the reader, fails to expand his or her taste in music. It's a list that seems to be pitched toward the typical UCLA sorority girl. I would not recommend this list to a person unfamiliar with the music of the '90s and say with confidence that it would be a handy guide to the best music of that decade.

But, alas, one can also go too far in the other direction. Enter Pitchfork. I don't think the Pitchfork 500 was created with the purest of intentions; I think it was created as a reaction to lists like VH1's. You can smell the calculation dripping from every choice. It's not just "Here are 500 songs you might like," it's "Here are 500 songs we know about and you don't." It's "Ooh, look at us, we're including all these tracks that most people wouldn't have been smart enough to include." It's, "Ooh, look at all those big, era-defining hits we're not including." Dear Pitchfork writers: some people do not know as much about music as you do. Accept it, and move on.

Here's the thing. I'll bet these writers all have mp3 collections filled with much cheesier mainstream music. But they've chosen to pretend they don't, and that their taste only conforms to the songs that it's "OK" to enjoy, lest their fellow writers be looking over their shoulder. It's the Taste Police. And, to paraphrase N.W.A., fuck the Taste Police.

Nail on Head

2011-05-24T12:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Lady Gaga's new album Born This Way dropped. You may recall that last year I wrote a fairly gushing piece on the Lady, praising the mystique she's created surrounding herself and the general catchiness of her music.

Now, I haven't had a chance to listen to the whole album yet, though I've heard about half of it through various outlets, but I have to say, I think Lady Gaga is beginning to lose her bite.

Eagerly awaiting AMG's review of the album (which I am certain will be penned by Stephen Thomas Erlewine) I couldn't help notice that Mr. Erlewine has already penned a blog entry on the album. Folks, this guy has hit the nail on it's head.

He writes: "Gaga has taken it upon herself to filter out whatever personal details remain in her songs so she can write anthems for her Little Monsters, that ragtag group of queers, misfits, outcasts, and rough kids who she calls her own... Whatever performance art shock Gaga had on The Fame/The Fame Monster has turned into pure theater. Her drama club ambition to marry rock & roll rebellion with her disco beats turns Born This Way into Like a Prayer by way of Bat Out of Hell... Gaga has chosen not to dig under the skin. She’s quite content to state her themes then let them be...All well and good, and all very entertaining, but this is an album that’s meant to be more: it’s intended to be a soundtrack to a way of life, but it winds up playing as a collection of songs."

And that is pretty much EXACTLY the way I feel about what I've heard so far. Before, Gaga's music sounded effortless, but when I hear one of her new songs like the titular Born This Way, it just sounds so deliberate. The reviewer at Sputnik Music hits that nail again, driving it all the way in (think Karate Kid with the one-two hit) when he writes "Born This Way is one giant anthem, but songs written specifically to be anthems can never actually be anthems, no matter how infectious they are."

Ouch.

The Pitchfork 500

2011-05-22T22:37:00.000-07:00

About three years ago, Pitchfork Media published a book called The Pitchfork 500: Our Guide To The Greatest Songs From Punk To The Present. In it, Pitchfork claimed to "condense thirty years of essential music into the ultimate chronological playlist, each song advancing the narrative and, by extension, the music itself." They also claimed to do a lot of other fantastic things, like "reflect the way listeners are increasingly processing music—by song rather than by album," and prove that Baby Boomers have been mistaken, and annoying, in claiming that their era was a better era for music than the post-Baby Boomer era.

Shortly after the book came out, I walked into Borders and took a good look. Here, courtesy of Wikipedia, is what I saw:

The Pitchfork 500

Take your time. Soak it in. It's hard to know where to start. I understand.

I will admit that I had some expectations. There would be a lot of alternative and indie rock. Many famous hit songs would be left off. Other than that, I wasn't quite sure what would be included.

The first thing that hit me was the writing. More on that later. The second thing that hit me was that, while I was familiar with a majority of the songs on their list, I was somewhat dismayed to realize that I was unfamiliar with roughly 200 of them. Maybe they were 200 songs that weren't any good. I probably wasn't missing anything. But still, my ego took a hit. I was supposed to know everything. Even though I was almost positive that all the songs in the Pitchfork 500 that I hadn't heard of weren't any good, I still felt like I needed to hear them. Maybe they sucked, but I had to know that they sucked.

Thus taking the phrase "Know your enemy" to heart, I decided that I needed to download every song on the Pitchfork 500 that I hadn't heard, realize that they stank, and then complain about it on my blog. So after work for a couple of evenings, I sat down with a pen and a piece of paper and painstakingly wrote down the names of all the songs in the Pitchfork 500 I'd either never heard, or at least couldn't recall off the top of my head. Sure, the easy thing to do would have been to just buy the book, but I couldn't stand the thought of bringing that ... thing into my home.

I went home and got about five songs in before I moved on to better things. About a year or so later, while trying to download something entirely unrelated, I noticed that some enterprising young individual had already compiled and uploaded the entire Pitchfork 500 onto the internet. Well, this was much easier. So I downloaded the entire, pre-compiled Pitchfork 500. And now I am going to tell you what I think of it.

Little Earl Loves The Music Of The '80s: Introduction - The Divided Decade

2011-05-18T17:40:00.000-07:00

I know what you're asking yourself. "Why, Little Earl? Why?"

And why now? Why here?

So what happened? Let me tell you what happened.

I ran out of '60s and '70s music is one thing that happened. I tried everything. I tried Country. I tried Rap. I even tried Jazz. I started getting desperate. I downloaded some French pop. Then some Italian pop. That was when I knew I had pretty much hit bottom, the Italian pop.

So downloading is what happened. And YouTube. So much of the appeal of '80s pop music is tied to music video. I didn't have access to these videos before. I have access to them now. But maybe something else, something even more mysterious, has happened.

I was born in 1980. I could not be more of a child of the '80s if I tried. The music I heard in the '80s was the music my parents were listening to on the radio. My parents, unlike many Baby Boomers, did not listen to the music of the '60s. I grew up in a world in which The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Motown, Elvis, "Oldies," "Classic Rock," and so on, did not exist. Why exactly I grew up in this world is hard to say; you'd have to ask my parents. Nonetheless, '80s Top 40 radio was the music of my childhood. To hear the hits of the '80s is to be whisked immediately back into my origins.

I didn't always feel so hot about my childhood. But maybe I am feeling better about it now. Cynic that I am, part of me didn't think that I would actually live this long, or that the United States of America would still be a functioning nation, or that we wouldn't have all been wiped out by some sort of nuclear radioactive biological supervirus. So when I hear Kool & The Gang's "Cherish" in 2011, I am genuinely appreciating the fact that after all these years I am still alive and still able to appreciate such a terrific, if extremely cheesy, song. You might say that I cherish it.

But the '80s of my childhood, as I've gradually learned, is only half the story. Stephen Thomas Erlewine may have hit the nail on the head in his review of Rhino's Like, Omigod! The '80s Pop Culture Box (Totally):

Rock criticism has two schools of thought regarding the '80s. One complains that it was all crass, commercial crap, breathing a sigh of relief that we made it through that dreck (thanks to IRS, SST, jangle pop, college rock, and hardcore punk, of course). The other celebrates the decade as "cheesy" fun, full of naïve, silly singles; bad haircuts; big synthesizers. It's a school intent on reducing it all as nostalgic fodder -- and whenever '80s music is written about in this fashion, it's always given ironic adjectives, straight out of the height of valley girl speak. All this ghettoizes an era in pop music that was rich in innovation, great one-hit wonders, oddities, and inexplicable flukes that make it a wonderful cross between the first days of the British Invasion and the peak of AM pop in the early '70s. It was the last great era for pop singles -- the last time that singles really mattered, the last time that something totally unexpected could capture the minds of the public, before radio consolidation meant hits couldn't build in a region, before MTV turned to non-music programming and cut off a national outlet for new music.

I admit it - I'm more or less an album guy. That's why the '80s have always bothered me. It seems like after Thriller, the goal pretty much became "How many hit singles can we extract from an album?" Not "How can we make a great album, and then maybe possibly pull a song for a single?" So imagine you're me, it's 1998 and you're exploring a lot of music, and mp3s don't really exist yet. Are you going to want to buy or borrow a CD that has a couple of great songs on it, or are you going to want to buy or borrow a CD that has a lot of great songs on it? Yes, thanks for playing.

But as Erlewine suggests, there were bands who focused on albums in the '80s - it's just that they were the alternative bands. Unlike the '60s or the '70s, where there were some cult acts, but on the whole almost every significant artist made a mainstream impact in some way, the '80s really were two decades. As if one '80s wasn't scary enough. There was the mainstream decade, and there was the underground decade. And the two decades did not interact. Aside from a few select artists (whom I may discuss), the mainstream did not know the underground even existed, and the underground had little desire to be associated with the mainstream.

Until recently, I've never liked this. I like music that's thoughtful, creative, and challenging, and yet somehow finds an epic place in the sweeping pop culture narrative that is unfolding in my head. "Our band could be your life," The Minutemen sang. Well what if I imagine my life to be grand and mystical? If a band could be my life, could I pick The Beatles? Maybe I'm like that working-class Republican who doesn't support raising taxes on rich people because, hell, I'm a-gonna be rich someday too. Why would I want a band to be my life? My life sucks!

It's probably fair to say that the underground and mainstream somehow merged once again in the '90s, before both concepts ceased to mean anything, and all music in general, mainstream or underground, became rather crummy. Thus is the world in which we find ourselves today. Suddenly that split in the '80s doesn't seem so bad. I have to say that, in comparison to contemporary pop music, '80s mainstream pop music is sounding pretty damn good. At least I can find several shamelessly catchy and memorable singles sprinkled liberally throughout the decade. I'm not even asking for deep, profound music here. I just want something at least on the level of "Girls Just Want To Have Fun" or "Everything She Wants."

There are rock critics who would argue that the alternative '80s was the "real" '80s, and that the mainstream '80s was just a big fraud and a sham. But here's my opinion: I don't really prefer one over the other. For years I have found both halves of the '80s to be lacking. The mainstream '80s was too singles oriented, and the singles were often blandly produced love songs with overly-generic lyrics. The alternative '80s was too navel-gazing, amateurish, and sonically abrasive. Everything was out of balance. There was no perfect '80s. But hey, I knew this already.

So here's what I am going to do. I am going to talk about the alternative '80s, and I am going to talk about the mainstream '80s. I am going to talk about them separately. In my mind they are genuinely separate things. They remind me of two completely different eras in my own life. The alternative '80s reminds me of my college years. The mainstream '80s reminds me of my childhood in a visceral way that I find somewhat disturbing. Depending on what mood I'm in, I can enjoy both equally. I am that rare beast. Well, me and Stephen Thomas Erlewine.

How am I going to do this? Simple. To discuss each aspect of the '80s, I am going to utilize two separate music collections as my launching pads. To begin my discussion of the alternative '80s, I am going to write about The Pitchfork 500. To begin my discussion of the mainstream '80s, I am going to write about what is known in my family simply as "The '80s Tape."

Little Earl Loves The Music Of The '80s

2011-05-15T23:30:00.000-07:00

COMING SOON

Heavy Rain (Quantic Dream, 2010)

2011-05-12T10:32:00.000-07:00

I'm here to review Heavy Rain, a game for the Playstation 3 I just finished playing and one that I'm not sure exactly what to say about. To begin with, it's been marketed as a new type of videogame storytelling, one where your actions in the game influence the outcome of events in ways never thought possible before in videogaming. The makers call it, perhaps somewhat pretentiously, "interactive cinema". To add weight to this lofty ambition, the developers, Quantic Dream, have gone all out in the CGI department, using motion capture to create highly detailed characters that at times look almost real (check out the original E3 2006 demo). It's all quite a large feat, and Quantic Dream, well, they kind of pull it off, but not quite.

Remember in the past when people thought up the idea of interactive movies, where the audience would be watching a film, and when prompted, decide what a character should do next by pressing a button and inputting their choice? Except no one wanted to do this - you go to the movies to be immersed and entertained, not asked what you want the protagonist to do next. Well, this interactivity is at the crux of Heavy Rain, and it actually manages to work, perhaps because the player is the sole decision maker. In this sense it vaguely resembles an old Choose-your-own-adventure book.

Heavy Rain is a murder/mystery story revolving around a handful of characters, each with their own motivations and desires, on the hunt for the elusive 'Origami Killer'. The killer kidnaps children who are then found dead a few days later drowned in water holding an origami figure in their hands. It makes for a great setup, and the characters are fairly believable and fit the story well. The story opens with a prologue with you playing as the main protagonist Ethan, a father of two children. One day one of your boys gets killed due to some slight negligence on Ethan's part. The game then shifts forward a few years where we find Ethan has become a distraught wreck, divorced from his wife, living in regret over his first son's death. Soon, his second son gets kidnapped by the Origami Killer, setting in motion the events of the game.

It's an intriguing story, as Ethan's desire to find his boy is made all the more urgent considering he's already lost one of his children. Other playable characters include a comely journalist, an aging private investigator, and an FBI agent.

The other aspect that makes the game unique is the control scheme. Done away with are standard button mapping concepts such as "Hit A to jump", instead each action your character performs is determined by an onscreen prompt that guides you in how to perform a specific action. While difficult to explain in text, it works ingeniously well as the button presses become proportionally difficult to the task at hand. It also adds a sense of bonding with each character that doesn't usually occur in a game,

Heavy Rain has many terrific moments. Playing as Ethan, the Origami Killer begins sending you messages. These messages outline tasks Ethan must do if he wishes to save his son. Some are straight out of the Saw series of movies (though it should be noted that the game is primarily a whodunnit and not a horror flick), and since you are carrying out the action using approximate button presses, it makes the action that much more visceral and exciting. In one of my favorite sequences, Ethan is told by the killer that he must drive for five miles going the wrong way on the freeway. It's an intensely exciting experience, one that had me jumping out of my seat as I struggled to keep control of the car and not hit any oncoming traffic (watch it here).

This leads into the next interesting mechanic that Heavy Rain offers. Your characters can die. And you don't get to start the scene over. So if one of the characters doesn't make it, their plotline is finished, they won't have anything else to contribute to the rest of the game. This ties in neatly with the choose-your-own-adventure feel of the game, leading to branching stories and scenes that may or may not occur depending on your actions. Luckily I managed to keep everyone alive and got an appropriately rewarding ending, though it should be noted that none of the endings are considered 'the right' or 'best' ending.

However, the game has many, many faults. To begin with, it's a slow start. The first third of the game is a bore, as you learn the basics of the control scheme through such mundane tasks as brushing your teeth or making a sandwich.

Second, Quantic Dream is a French company and they used all French voice actors. Sure, many of them have terrific American accents, but frequently the French accent slips through, ruining the sense that I'm supposed to be a grizzled P.I. in Philadelphia. This is most notable with the character Lauren and Ethan's two sons, who just sound so, so, French.

The game suffers from some pretty large plotholes as well. A major recurring plot point that strongly suggests Ethan has something to do with his own child's kidnapping is glaringly never resolved. Near the end of the game, once the plot begins to come together, you'll find that suddenly characters who have never met suddenly know each other. This is a major distraction from an otherwise intriguing story.

My final grievance comes from the fact that the identity of the Origami Killer always remains the same. I was under the impression that depending on how you played, the identity of the Killer would be different, that way each playthrough would be truly unique. Alas, this is not so, and it somewhat undermines the fundemental idea that your actions determine the outcome. Additionally, the actual final identity of the Killer is a bit of a cop-out and a let down.

So what do I really think of the game? I loved the control scheme, and I enjoyed the branching narratives and different ways the action can be played out in each scene. I would love to see another game like this made with the same controls and choose-your-own-adventure style of storytelling, but one done with voice actors who actually sounded like they were supposed to, and one where the plot made more sense. There's a lot of potential here to create more engaging, meaningful stories, someone just needs to figure out how to make it all work.

Nicolas Cage: What Is Going On In There?

2011-05-07T21:57:00.000-07:00

A couple of months ago, a friend of mine hosted what he termed "Bad Movie Night." It was to be, he hoped, the first of many. The inaugural feature: Nicolas Cage's 1989 film Vampire's Kiss. He was inspired to rent it after viewing the following clip:

Needless to say, Vampire's Kiss was everything he hoped it would be and more. In this film, Nicolas Cage manages to chew on people's necks with a set of false plastic teeth, eat a real live cockroach, occasionally speak in an English accent for no apparent reason, smash an entire bathroom to pieces, and spend at least twenty minutes engaging in a conversation with the side of a brick building. Vampire's Kiss was like American Psycho, except instead of being a retro-nostalgic take on the late '80s, was actually made in the late '80s.

Apparently satisfied by our selection, we realized there was a commentary track featuring the one and only Cage, and we decided to listen to it, in the hopes that he might explain what the hell he was thinking when he opted to make this movie. But alas, the commentary track only deepened the mystery. Cage seemed to be aware that the movie was funny, but he did not seem to be aware that the movie was bad. In other words, yes, it was funny, but not for the reasons he intended. It just made me ponder one of the essential questions of our age, namely: Nicolas Cage and his brain - what the hell is going on in there?

Nicolas Cage appears to lack any sense of quality control. I imagine a conversation between him and his agent must go something like this:

Agent: Hey Nic...
Cage: Yo!
Agent: I've got another part for you, it's called Leaving Las Vegas-
Cage: I'll do it!
Agent: How 'bout, here's another one, it's called Wicker Man-
Cage: I'll do it!
Agent: OK, here's another one, it's called Adaptation-
Cage: I'll do it!
Agent: Here's one, it's called Gone In 60 Seconds-
Cage: I'll do it!
Agent: How about, this one looks good, it's called Moonstruck-
Cage: I'll do it!
Agent: Hmm, what do you think about Ghost Rider-
Cage: I'll do it!

One thing you've got to say about Nicolas Cage: no matter what the role, he brings his A game. Whether it's Matchstick Men or The Wicker Man, the dude is into it. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), he is not able to distinguish between a role that benefits from an intense approach, and one that doesn't. The man is a master at, shall we shall, "losing his shit." Hence the infamous YouTube video, "Nicolas Cage Losing His Shit":

So why is he smearing paint all over himself? I doubt even he could answer that question. One blogger has dared to go where others fear to tread. Witness 30 Days of Nic Cage. The description: "Nicolas Cage is in some pretty good films. He is in some OK films. He is also in some astonishingly bad films. I am going to watch 30 of them in 30 days." I hope this man has good medical coverage.

Finally, the Cage Matrix: a handy guide to Nicolas Cage's filmography, plotted on two axes. One axis plots his roles from "Brilliant" to "Rubbish," while the other axis plots his roles from "Serious" to "Mental." I think you may find their system surprisingly useful.

What Does John Wayne Bobbitt's Severed Dick Think About The Nuclear Reactor In Japan?

2011-04-29T21:51:00.000-07:00

HBO is not a cable channel that I receive, so I often forget that Bill Maher still has a television show. This interview in Rolling Stone has reminded me. And almost makes me wish I paid for HBO. Almost. Highlights:

Americans have no idea what's in the budget, so how could they make informed decisions about it? They think public television gets five percent of the budget. We spend $178 billion a year on public television? Somebody should tell Tavis Smiley, because he's been bitching about that ratty old couch in his greenroom for, like, five years, and I'm sure he could use some of that money.

What did you make of Obama’s speech explaining the decision to intervene?

He seemed to be readying America for the idea that we are no longer the big swingin' dicks in the world ... Jefferson would turn over in his slave if he knew we had tens of thousands of troops on bases in Germany, Japan and Korea – wars that we won 50, 60 years ago. It's a concept we would never tolerate in reverse, by the way. If there were 20,000 armed Guatemalans on a military base in San Bernardino, Lou Dobbs would become a suicide bomber.

Only the fringe people are in the race right now. Donald Trump? Why are we even listening to this forgotten clown? Why don't we ask John Wayne Bobbitt's severed dick what it thinks about fixing the nuclear reactor in Japan? What does the Octomom's vagina have to say about Medicare reform?

You came under fire recently for calling Sarah Palin a "cunt" in your stand-up.

Fox News ginned up this so-called controversy. I don't just walk out there and say, "Sarah Palin's a cunt! Good night!" It's a carefully crafted routine that has been in my act for over a year. This is not a word that we can get along without, because it's a word that talks about a specific type of person – and it can be a man or a woman. I said I'd take it out of my act because of HBO – we're a good fit for each other. Every once in a while you just have to say, "I'm going to pick my battles." I don't need to be a martyr for Sarah Palin's cunt … whoops, I did it again.

When you’re out on the road, doing standup in Oklahoma City, how do you avoid… Willie Nelson problems?

I have only ever smoked marijuana 12 miles off the coast of the United States — that’s where it is legal. I learned that from William F. Buckley. I put a video up on FunnyorDie about a month or so ago called 12 Mile, I interviewed Sarah Silverman, and we had the ocean on a green screen, sailors’ caps — like we were on a boat. That was my subtle way of saying we were both very stoned in that interview — but we were 12 miles off the coast, so it is legal.

So what do you smoke — medical marijuana?

I only smoke what floats up there 12 miles off the coast! It’s lucky that there’s so much intercepted marijuana coming in from Mexico that it is floating out there in the ocean, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Ebert Shrugged

2011-04-23T17:58:00.000-07:00

Finally, the cinematic event we've all been eagerly awaiting - Atlas Shrugged: The Movie! But hmm, what's this? How come I haven't heard of the director ... or any of the actors? Where's Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal? According to Ebert, it sounds like I should save my hard-earned Objectivist money. Highlights:

There are conversations in English after which I sometimes found myself asking, "What did they just say?" The dialogue seems to have been ripped throbbing with passion from the pages of Investors’ Business Daily. Much of the excitement centers on the tensile strength of steel ... Rarely, perhaps never, has television news covered the laying of new railroad track with the breathless urgency of the news channels shown in this movie.

The movie is constructed of a few kinds of scenes: (1) People sipping their drinks in clubby surroundings and exchanging dialogue that sounds like corporate lingo; (2) railroads, and lots of ’em; (3) limousines driving through cities in ruin and arriving at ornate buildings; (4) city skylines; (5) the beauties of Colorado. There is also a love scene, which is shown not merely from the waist up but from the ears up. The man keeps his shirt on. This may be disappointing for libertarians, who I believe enjoy rumpy-pumpy as much as anyone.

Hanna

2011-04-20T07:19:00.000-07:00

This movie is a failed attempt at some kind of hard boiled indie comic book spy story. Hanna is what you get when washed up screenwriters try to cash in on the success of Quentin Tarantino.

If Wiki says otherwise then treat this as metaphor.

Ned Raggett Takes Your Questions

2011-04-17T21:25:00.000-07:00

Perhaps the very greatest moment in the entire history of Cosmic American Blog to this point (and there have been many) was when AMG critic Ned Raggett left an actual comment on Zrbo's post about VNV Nation (swiftly to be never heard from again as I allegedly scared him off with my overly excited reaction). Well perhaps we could scare Ned off a little more. Or perhaps not. I have found some hilarious YouTube clips where Ned apparently answers questions from his "fans." Hands down, the highlight has to be "Why do you fagz on AMG give ***** to Dylan?"

This is almost outdone by "Wiki doesnt have your Liza Minelli marriage?"

As with other AMG reviewers before him, Ned looks exactly like I was hoping he would.

Zrbo Got Married

2011-04-10T18:37:00.000-07:00

Our little Zrbo has finally grown up! On a luminous Saturday evening somewhere on the outskirts of Mill Valley, Zrbo and Mrs. Zrbo became one big giant Zrbo. She has apparently pledged to continue tolerating his passion for video games. Such a woman can rarely be found.

In related news, Marin City is the ghetto of Marin. Yes, there is a ghetto in Marin. It even has genuine ghetto cred, as 2Pac actually lived there in the late '80s. Try not to find yourself in Marin City too often.

Gettin' Down on Friday

2011-04-01T18:48:00.000-07:00

Just in case you haven't seen it yet, the newest Internet sensation, the so-called "Worst Song Ever". Make sure you stick around for the break that includes perhaps the most astute observation of the sequence of the weekend ever.

Stray observations:
-Rebecca Black is only 13, according to newest child-safety recommendations Rebecca should still be sitting in the back seat.

-Why is the black guy driving in a sports car rapping about a barely-pubescent girl? Kind of creepy, no?

-His rap must qualify as the most unnecessary rap ever.

-If this same guy is driving so fast in the fast lane then how the hell is a school bus passing him by?

-If you go to the official Youtube page you can literally watch the 'dislike' bar rack up new hits in real time.

-I obviously must have too much time on my hands if I'm bothering to write about this phenomenon at all.

Giants World Series Riot Videos

2011-03-27T20:45:00.000-07:00

This party was everywhere, people. Market Street:

The Embarcadero:

The Lower Haight:

The Inner Sunset - my hood (I was actually walking around here, briefly):

Even the fire trucks were partying:

Well, they probably weren't partying for long:

Careless Whisper... Now in Prank Form!

2011-03-15T10:56:00.000-07:00

I could watch this all day and never tire of it.

Don't Do It, Phil!

2011-03-11T21:46:00.000-08:00

And you thought all this time that you could just make fun of Phil Collins for as long as you wanted and he would just sit there in his little wool sweater and take it. Well apparently, according to this article in MSN, Phil Collins has finally had it:

Medically, he's got a few serious and life-altering problems: The hearing in his left ear is shot, and a dislocated vertebra in his neck has rendered him all but unable to pound on the drums that first made him famous. People.com reported March 5 that Collins is stepping down because of his health issues. But that isn't the reason.

Mainly, it's because he's had it with people thinking they know who Phil Collins is. And not in a good way. He has been called "the Antichrist," the sellout who took Peter Gabriel's Genesis, that paragon of prog-rock, and turned it into a lame-o pop act and went on to make all those supercheesy hits that really did define the 1980s.

So, he wants to move on. He could make another original album, but he knows that will bring a rehashing of all the old criticism. It's inescapable. Forget it. He'd rather spend his time in his basement, building up his collection of Alamo memorabilia, which, oddly enough, is his great consuming passion these days.

"I sometimes think, 'I'm going to write this Phil Collins character out of the story,'" he says. "Phil Collins will just disappear or be murdered in some hotel bedroom, and people will say, 'What happened to Phil?' And the answer will be, 'He got murdered, but, yeah, anyway, let's carry on.' That kind of thing."

Oh come on, Phil, we were only kidding! People only made fun of you because they figured you were too nice to care! If we'd known it actually bothered you, we would have left you alone. Well, probably not everybody:

In the summer of 1994, reports began circulating that Collins had informed his (second) wife that he wanted a divorce -- via fax. He denied it vehemently, and the fax itself was never produced, but no matter: Suddenly, it was open season on the guy. Oasis' Noel Gallagher started hammering on him any time he could, to uproarious effect. Among his choicest bons mots: "You don't have to be great to be successful. Look at Phil Collins."

And so it's gone, especially on the Internet, where I Hate Phil Collins sites have flourished. He gets criticized for everything. For his hair, for his height, for his pants (pleated khakis), for his shirts (tucks them in), for being "a shameless, smirking show hog."

"I don't understand it," he says, looking pained. "I've become a target for no apparent reason. I only make the records once; it's the radio that plays them all the time. I mean, the Antichrist? But it's too late. The die is cast as to what I am."

Due to that neck injury, his hands can no longer hold thed drum sticks. Worse, to him, he can't help his youngest kids build toys. He can't write his name with a pen. He has trouble wiping himself.

What the hell is this, the Book of Job? Has God finally decided he hates Phil Collins too?

Collins really is Mr. Nice Guy, and his recollections of his younger years as a rock star reflect that. He was never a big drinker, never a big dope smoker, has never taken LSD. The closest he came to destroying a hotel room was with his jazz-fusion side band Brand X, when some of the guys Super-Glued the phone handset to the receiver. "I didn't do it, but I felt terrible about it. The maid was going to get blamed. I always felt sorry for the maids." OK, but has he ever slept with a groupie? "No." Ever had a three-way? "Nope, I was never offered that piece of cake," he says. "It is an ambition of mine, though. I've got a few ambitions left, and that might be one of them." He smiles. "I wouldn't mind."

But there does seem to be some serious darkness in him as well. He has spent time imagining battle scenes at the Alamo. "At one point, the Mexicans were killing each other. It was dark, and you killed anything that moved. And then when they attacked the last line of defense, it was hand-to-hand fighting and they went around decapitating all the bodies and making sure they were dead. 'What must that have been like?' I think. And you have things like that coming over your head all the time." He bites his nails. "I'm fascinated by what people will do to each other," he goes on. "Actually, I'm sort of interested in the gory details of life."

Dude, Phil Collins is kind of fucked up. It gets even darker:

"I have had suicidal thoughts. I wouldn't blow my head off. I'd overdose or do something that didn't hurt. But I wouldn't do that to the children. A comedian who committed suicide in the '60s left a note saying, 'Too many things went wrong too often.' I often think about that."

My God Phil! Don't do it! We love you! Really! It's just not worth it, man. Those haters, man, they're just jealous. Did they ever play on Brian Eno's Another Green World? Did they ever perform on both stages of Live Aid? Didn't think so.

You are Phil Fucking Collins. And don't let anybody tell you differently.

Besides, faithful readers know that my favorite hobby is actually making fun of Peter Gabriel.

Zrbo's Favorite Games of 2010, Part 3

2011-03-05T13:38:00.001-08:00

Mass Effect 2 (Bioware)
Here it is, my final favorite game of 2010. Mass Effect 2 is a sequel to 2007's Mass Effect. Developed by Bioware, the Mass Effect universe is perhaps one of the most original and exciting new sci-fi universes to emerge out of the videogame soup in the past few years, one entirely devoid of Space Marines. The universe of Mass Effect is a highly developed one where complex relationships between various characters and species helps to create a truly believable universe.

The Mass Effect series is interesting in that often your character is given choices which can dramatically effect events later in the game. The sequel takes this even further by taking your save file from the original Mass Effect (considering you completed it) and carrying over that file to the new game, along with all the choices you made.

I thought this was a fascinating feat, as so many little decisions (and big ones) you made in the first game have relevance in the sequel. For example, without giving too much away, you have the choice in the first game to sacrifice one of your overly aggressive teammates. In the sequel there's an entire plotline, quite an important one at that, that revolves around this character. In my first game I let the teammate live, but in a different game if I had let him die then this entire plotline would not have been there for me to explore in the sequel, or at least it would have been dramatically different. This is part of what makes the Mass Effect games so interesting, each game is entirely your own game, no one else's Mass Effect universe looks quite the same as your own due to a culmination of your decisions.

Another aspect of what makes the Mass Effect universe interesting is that, unlike in much sci-f where humans are the dominant species exploring the universe (think Star Trek), here humanity has arrived late to the party while other spacefaring races have had several hundred, if not thousands, of years to grow, develop, and conquer. This means that there are all sorts of technologies, fueds, and relationships that are available for exploration.

What puts this universe a step ahead of other sci-fi is how just how well these ideas have been thought out. The original Mass Effect (and also featured in the sequel) featured an in-game codex, essentially an encyclopedia, of everything relating to the universe. Not only is each codex entry expertly written, but the explanations are all plausibly scientific for nearly every conceivable facet of space-travel. To top it off they gave these entries narration, so that you can listen to them being read. The voice actor they choice delivers the information so well that it actually made it a joy to listen to all of the scientific rationale for how space ships have gravity or can travel faster-than-light (example here).

So what makes Mass Effect 2 fall short for my game of the year? To understand that we have to look at the changes that were made between the two games. The biggest difference is that the combat has been completely overhauled from the first game. It's much more exciting and visceral now. The designers also stripped away most of the inventory management, and the exploration of individual planets. Basically Bioware stripped the game almost entirely of it's role-playing game elements. I don't mean this in the literal sense, you are definitely still "playing a role", but all those other elements that make up RPGs, such as inventory and stat management have been almost completely removed.

While this does streamline the combat and the overall feel of the game, I felt that as a consequence the developers were left with no way of resolving conflict outside of combat. So now instead of being able to influence some outcome through wits, you are now left with just the option of shooting your way through various encounters. The game focuses now more on action than on cerebral choices.

Which leads to my second point. Many of the choices in the first game felt more complex, more meaningful. For example, near the end of the first game you have to choose the two teammates who will accompany you on the mission. Later you get separated and have to make the decision to stay with one to help fight off the approaching enemy or go rescue the other from certain death. Either way somebody dies, and it can be a tough, tough decision to make. In Mass Effect 2 the decisions just don't seem to have the same impact. They come across more like "Do you want to eat a burrito or a taco?" (ok, not really, but you get my point). There's just something lacking in the emotional investment you have when making these decisions. Now this could all be rectified depending on how these decisions play out in the conclusion when Mass Effect 3 ships (this year supposedly), but for the time being I was left feeling a wee bit disappointed.

There's a few other issues I have with the game that don't need a lot of detail but I'll rattle them off here quickly. Some of the new teammates are brilliantly conceived, such as your lizard-man doctor Mordin (who you can get to sing a little Gilbert & Sullivan if you know how). Others, such as Thane or the Justicar are not as well thought out and on my second playthrough I realized just how downright silly/cartoony some of these characters came across.

There was a part where I arrived at a spaceport and there were literally four minor characters from the first game all standing in the same area who all said virtually the same thing ("Hey remember me, you rescued me way back at the beginning of the first game, it's great to run into you again!"). This gave me a bit of that "small-universe" feeling, not only do I just happen to bump into this person out of the billions of people in the entire galaxy, but there just happens to be three other people who I know all standing around in the same area? I was definitely reminded here that I was merely playing a game at this moment.

My final grievance is with the story itself. The game was billed as the dark second chapter of the Mass Effect story (the developers pretty much called it the 'Empire Strikes Back' of the story), but almost the entirety of the game was devoted to waltzing around the galaxy recruiting new teammates, with a short 'final confrontation' at the end. I also found the beginning of the game puzzling, you basically get killed right at the beginning of the game and then are brought back to life by a shadowy pro-human group (led by 'The Illusive Man' pictured above and voiced terrifically by Martin Sheen). It seemed to me one big contrivance/excuse to 'reboot' your character. The whole thing felt a little off to me. It would be like if the infamous part where Vader tells Luke he's his father happened at the beginning of Return of the Jedi, rather than the end of Empire. If the writers wanted to do this, why didn't they have you die at the end of the first game?

So there you have it. No one game gets my vote for game of the year, but all three games together, Halo: Reach, Limbo, and Mass Effect 2, form a pretty good core of great games. Now, I promised honorable mentions, so here they are:

Red Dead Redemption - This was practically every other reviewer's game of the year. It's by the makers of Grand Theft Auto but instead of taking place in a modern day city, it takes place in the Wild West. With a huge world to explore it captured the mood of all your favorite westerns and let you play as the cowboy. It had a truly great atmosphere but I just cannot forgive the actual gameplay, which was just awful in my opinion. Sorry, but this is a game, and for it to be considered good you gotta give me good gameplay.

Alan Wake - A psychological thriller about a horror novel writer who, in the middle of a bout of writer's block, decides to vacation with his wife in a small town in the Pacific Northwest. Part Twin Peaks, part Stephen King novel, the game does not try to hide its inspirations (King is mentioned in the opening line of the game). It was a pretty good game, and the narration by Alan Wake is excellent, but I never felt spooked or particularly 'psychologically thrilled'.

Bioshock 2 - The original Bioshock is one of my favorite games of this console generation. The sequel takes the Ayn Rand objectivist dystopia of the first game and now has it run by a collectivism-worshipping psychiatrist. The gameplay was great and it was fun to visit the underwater ruins of Rapture again, but the game was completely unnecessary, the first game told a complete story, there was no need for a sequel.

That's it for this time, see you in a year!

Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremonies: The YouTube Clips Playing In My Dreams

2011-02-27T21:54:00.001-08:00

If there's one thing in the world I love, it's Arrowhead's Puffed Wheat Cereal. But another thing I really love is hearing my favorite musicians talk about some of my other favorite musicians.

I once had the good fortune to catch the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony on VH1 back in 1999. It was delightful to hear Ray Charles induct Billy Joel, Neil Young induct Paul McCartney, and Bono induct Bruce Springsteen. It was like my very own musical subconscious sloshing around and stirring itself into new combinations. "Hey, there's that guy...talking about that guy!" "I didn't realize that guy knew that guy." "Wow, so that guy's a fan of that guy." I thought to myself, "Man, I could watch these all day."

And now I can, thanks to The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum's official YouTube channel! I just don't think I can ever get my fill of the inescapably positive vibe these speeches exude. "Wasn't that band awesome?" "No, your band was awesome." "No, no, your band was awesome." "No, no, no, really, your band was awesome." So many of these bands were so awesome. And a couple of these speeches, like Pete Townsend's, border on roast territory.

While I can't post every worthwhile clip, and I recommend simply surfing around here, below are some particular favorites:

Mick Jagger inducts The Beatles:

Pete Townsend inducts The Rolling Stones:

Neil Young inducts Paul McCartney:

Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne inducts George Harrison:

Olivia and Dhani Harrison acceptance speech:

Beach Boys acceptance speech:

Brian Wilson inducts the Bee Gees:

Moby inducts Steely Dan:

Steely Dan's acceptance speech:

Elton John inducts Elvis Costello:

The Edge inducts The Clash:

The Clash's acceptance speech

Jann Wenner accepts on behalf of the Sex Pistols:

Metallica inducts Black Sabbath:

Flea inducts Metallica: