It's already our fifth Discography entry of this cycle, which should normally be just getting into our second month, but in this adapted form means that we're almost half-way through. And, it's already our second thematic week. And not only another thematic week, but the thematic week, at least as measured by the sturm und drang (inside joke for CM) that it has caused. The theme this week is based on songs that you hear out and about in the world that you're actually happy to hear, which can also mean that you're not actually happy to hear them in your normal musical rotation. We've all gone to Lowe's or some other outlet of the corporate overlords and heard a song we love and suddenly felt intellectually and emotionally defiled because that song should only exist in our bedroom or car at 3:00 in the morning as we struggle with the greater existential realities. Fortunately for me, very few songs off of Young's Tonight's the Night are on rotation at Bed Bath & Beyond. Conversely, there are songs that we never listen to, but which pop up on the loud speaker at the grocery store which, oddly, give us joy. So, this month's theme, suggested by the haphazardly excellent Mike Kelly, is a celebration of those songs.
Cindy Morgan
I have been a dedicated Trader Joes
shopper for decades. True story: I grew up in a beach town in
Southern California that had one of the original three TJs. If you shop
there you know that the music they play in store is lifted whole cloth from the
1980s and 1990s.If it's poppy and catchy then it is going to be played. Have I
sung along to the B52s "Rock Lobster", The Thompson
Twins "Hold me Now" (where are they now one wonders) and
Aha's"Take on Me" in the aisles? Yes. Yes I have. Even though I sing
quite badly I cannot resist when the catchy synth-pop chords hit my ears. I
literally CAN'T resist. So basically the way MK has written this prompt I
could choose any song from my middle and high school years because a trip to
TJ's each week for 20+ years means I have probably heard them all. Twice.
I'm choosing one that I was
reminded of today because I listened to a podcast about it. Cyndi Lauper will
forever be cemented in my music memory for "Girls Just Wanna Have
Fun" (and also. . .shared name and all that), but the podcast was about "All Through the Night" another track from her 1983 album
"She's So Unusual." She had four songs off that album released as
singles that spent time at the top of the charts, which in the day was quite an
accomplishment. Who knew?
To be honest whenever "All
Through the Night" or the other hit "slow" song from the album,
"Time After Time" come on the radio I always have to pause and remind
myself who sang them because they are so different than "Girls. . ."
In "Girls it's like she's trying to convince us about the fun part
and not about her voice and musical talent--her voice seems ok, nothing great.
But in "All Through The Night" it has a clarity and pitch that are
cleaner and more focused on its quality. Melancholy, emotive, clear, set
against the 8-note repeated synthesized kaliope sound that plays over and over
as the melody (I think--I am not music-term fluent). Try to sing along with it
and you realize how good she is when she wants to be and how bad you are. Ok
sure, that's probably just me, but it sounds simple and isn't.
The lyrics are a bit cryptic but
that sits ok with the ephemeral nature of the repeated 8 notes that are broken
up with the faster choruses:
All through the night
I'll be awake and I'll be with you
All through the night
This precious time when time is new
Oh
All through the night today
Knowin' that we feel the same without sayin'
We have no past, we won't reach back
Keep with me forward all through the night
And once we start, the meter clicks
And it goes running all through the night
Until it ends, there is no end
This is the stuff of 8th grade slow
dances and HS proms and sitting on your bed with your best friend discussing
all the boys you think are cute and might be good kissers. It feels deep when
you are a teenager hoping to be with your boyfriend all through the night, but
I have to say as a full grown woman it still haunts me when it comes on (in
Trader Joes or anywhere else). It's the repeating melody that lures you in--the
tinkling notes are whimsical. Lauper's voice comes in and is just so saturated
with the feelings of the lyrics we believe this is HER story (it's
not--she didn't write it--but I sure BELIEVE that it is). This song represents
the magic of good 80s pop: it can always crawl into your softest sentimental
spots and make you remember what it felt like to want to have these sort of
desperate feelings of loving the way you love when you are full of hormones and
hope and looking for meaning in every song they play on KROQ. It's a huge
nostalgia trip and after being reminded of it today, I went to the itunes store
and bought it and "Time After Time" and have had them on loop for
hours.
Alice Neiley
Well, I figure I'll post the long
awaited discography entry here as well, that way Scudder won't be
able to somehow deny my participation or 'forget' to put it on the blog out of
spite since I only have eyes for my puppy now. ANYWAY.
First of all, I'm completely in
agreement with Pedro and Lynette about their songs -- in fact, Fill Me Up
was actually on my short list, and while Bright Side of the Road wasn't
specifically on my list, but Into the Mystic and Domino both were. Okay, enough
about my short list. I ultimately decided upon Blame it on the Boogie by The
Jackson 5. Technically, by the time that tune was released they were called
only The Jacksons, the beginning of that inevitable road for most family bands
as things progress, and of course, as we all know, the road to Michael
Jackson's unfortunate new...face...and other disasters. Anyway, Blame it on the Boogie is
easily the best Jackson song between ABC and the Thriller album, if for no
other reason than the dichotomy of its upbeat melody and rhythm paired with
lyrics that are basically a guy complaining that his girl likes dancing more
than she likes him (wait...does that sound like a familiar story to
anybody...like the story of Scudder, me, my dog, and this discography?) ;)
Parallels aside, I do love this
tune. While Shawn Colvin's Fill Me Up nearly made it alongside Patty Griffin's
One Big Love, Blame it on the Boogie actually causes me to dance down cereal
aisles, and it's played far less often than ABC (which happens to be my wife Karen's
entry for this theme) which makes my choice better. Fewer plays in grocery
stores = a far superior tune. Simple logic.
I love you all. I love
this discography. I am deeply sorry about my late entry, and though I
won't promise that it's my last serious lapse of judgement, I will try to put
my music musings at least at the level of saying good morning to my dog, or
goodnight to my dog, or I love you to my dog, or giving her a smooch, but
DEFINITELY not at the level of all of those put together... ;)
Dave Kelley
Sorry for the late submission. I will go with
"Band on the Run" by Paul McCartney and Wings. I am not a big
fan of Wings, but this is a decent song. It was a huge hit in 1974 which
was one of the last uncomplicated years of my life. With the exception of
my grandmother, all of the people I loved were still alive, teenage angst and
adult problems were still in the future.
Pedro Carmolli
Hello All: First time
reader and poster Pedro Carmolli here.
Since I torment Scudder every Thursday with trivia as payment for him
working at the food shelf he has asked(guilted) me into posting. I do not know any of the rules and probably
no one else on this Blog so I hope not to offend everyone with this post. Once I get to know you, then I hope to offend
you properly and in person at some point.
Now to answer the question.
I initially thought my answer would be September by Earth Wind and
Fire. I do feel happy whenever I hear
that song. Scientists have done a study
on pop music and called it the happiest song ever written. Cancer is as yet mostly incurable but thank
God we know what the happiest song is. I
decided that couldn't be it though because it was not written and performed by
Van Morrison.
I have, for the longest time, been a Van Morrison fan and I try to
convert as many non-believers as possible.
Whenever I have high school or college aged people working with me I
make sure to introduce them to His music.
My most recent intern had me fill out an evaluation for her
professor. One of the questions was "What
areas does the intern need to improve?"
Of course I wrote at length about her inability to quickly and
accurately identify classic rock and roll songs. This was met with a snicker by her professor
who assumed I was joking.
Back to the song. It is not
Brown Eyed Girl, which to this day causes Janet Planet (the actual brown eyed
girl) to exit any place that is playing that tune. Too popular.
Nor is it anything from the Moondance album, which I love. Those seem to be the only "deep
cuts" played on the radio by DJs or computer algorithms that think they
are digging up unheard gold.
I do feel very happy when I hear the song St Dominic's Preview
without having to put it on myself but that has happened to me exactly once in
my life so, too obscure.
For me, It has to be Bright Side Of the Road from the 1979 Into The
Music album. I hear it out in the ether
enough, perhaps once per year or 18 months.
So, definitely not overplayed and nearly every time I hear it I ask
whatever stranger or friend is closest to identify it. The responses range from "buddy, give me
a break I am trying to find a sympathy card for my friend whose mom just
died" to "really, can't you go 10 minutes without asking me some
obscure question," to my aforementioned intern's response "this can't
possibly be Van Morrison." Ahh Good
Times.
Jack Schultz
According to my somewhat
eclectic music tastes, this is one of the worst songs published since the
Paleolithic age. Yet, whenever I hear it, it brings a smile to my
face, probably with a faraway look in my eyes. It is a biological fact that
our sense of smell is one of the strongest triggers of memories. I think
music and particular songs are not far behind the olfactory stimulators.
For me, Dire Straits’ Sultans of Swing and The Police’s Roxanne always
(ALWAYS!) remind me of spring break 1979 with George Mahoney and two girls from
Da Region going to Dayton Beach in his beat-up Chevy Nova. Queen’s Little
Thing Called Love and the Theme from Taxi always (ALWAYS!) remind me of driving
to the 1980 winter Olympics on the spur of the moment (probably a future blog
post, unless this one gets me banned).
And Spandau Ballet’s True always
makes me smile, because it reminds me of drinking pitchers of beer on the deck
of the City View Tavern overlooking the east end of Cincinnati, in the company
of a beautiful young lady, far beyond my amorous range in the early ‘80s, the
Paleolithic Age, or any age for that matter. While our friendship was
clearly platonic, I was grateful for the time we spent together and must
confess I indulged in imagining that it could somehow turn into something
more. Undoubtedly, those fantasies are why this song conjures such
pleasant memories.
As it turned out, I’m fortunate
to have later found the true love of my life (Julie), for whom I owe Gary a
world of thanks. I met Julie at his apartment playing Trivial Pursuit
with Gary and his wife, who worked with Julie in a bookstore. It must
also be observed that my platonic friend and I have grown to disagree on what
makes American great.
I owe Gary further thanks for
introducing me to The City View Tavern, which used to be in the back of
neighborhood grocery store. You would walk through this tiny grocery
store to find in the rear, a rickety wooden balcony with a breathtaking view of
Cincinnati. It really was an amazing place (no longer a grocery).
I don’t know how jukeboxes work,
but no one was feeding money into it on the couple of evenings I spent there
sipping beer with my platonic friend. The rotation it was playing was
small and True would repeat frequently. The song sucks. I would
never include it on a playlist for my friends (except for this post). Yet, it
always (ALWAYS!) brings a smile to my face when I hear it.
Mike Kelly
Chris Isaak - Wicked Game
The world was on fire
and no one could save me but you
I still can't figure out
the difference between parsley and cilantro
It's strange what desire
will make foolish people do
You know what else is
strange? Being in the grocery store and hearing the song I thought was the
hottest thing ever when I was 11
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you
I never dreamed that I'd
be searching the whole store for some snotty organic cheese
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
Why wasn't Chris Isaak
more famous?
No, I don't wanna fall
in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
Yeah, no shit it is.
There's not a lot I can do with "those green chips that are like healthy
Doritos" on a shopping list
No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
With you
(This world is only gonna break your heart)
He sounds like Roy
Orbison. He deserved better than this
What a wicked game you
play, to make me feel this way
I used to have a crush
on a girl who ended up at Princeton when this song came out.
What a wicked thing to
do, to let me dream of you
Pretty sure this is the
point in the video where Chris Isaak and the model are for all intents and
purposes fucking
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way
Not sure if Gatorade is
considered a juice or a soft drink.
What a wicked thing to
do, to make me dream of you
This matters because one
is in the aisle with green arrows and one is in the aisle with red
arrows.
And I don't wanna fall
in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
This is the hottest song
to ever be associated with the hideous florescent lights of a grocery store
No, I don't wanna fall
in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)
With you
I wish I was on a beach
right now
The world was on fire
and no one could save me but you
But I never understood
why both people in the video are eating sand. Not hot.
Strange what desire will make foolish people do
Maybe this line explains why
I never dreamed that I'd
love somebody like you
Finding the big bag of
frozen spinach is a wicked game because it's always hidden way in the back of
the freezer
And I never dreamed that
I'd lose somebody like you
The small child in the
ice cream aisle almost lost his toe because my janky cart keeps pulling
inexplicably to the left
He's right. Nobody
loves no one.
Lynette Vought
Shaun Colvin
There are many songs I am happy to hear, but
the bit in Gary’s directions about a song that makes me feel better about the
human condition was a bit of a stumper. Most of the songs that make me smile aren’t
all that uplifting except in musical terms. More often than not, the lyrics I
enjoy the most are about the no good there is to get up to, instead of hopeful
messages. Part of the fun in Runaway Baby is thinking
about the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
In Fill Me Up, Shaun Colvin managed to create a song that fulfills
both requirements. Wistful and joyful at the same time, she uses painterly
imagery to express her acceptance of being alone but also of love and the
comfort that comes when one has a friend that is present, although not always
in a physical sense. That balance of melancholy and contentment forms a lovely
human portrait of independence as well as attachment.
The cover art for the album These Four
Walls, a photo collage by Maggie Taylor, is a beautiful complement to the
music. Just like Colvin’s lyrics, the art sets up the framework of elements that
the viewer can gather together into a personal narrative.
Every now and then, this song breaks
through the usual grocery store hit parade, and it is always a pleasure. It’s kind
of like seeing French blue and tangerine together. Both are genuine slices of
beauty.
Cyndi Brandenburg
The Lightning Seeds, Pure
Yeah Scudder, I know. I have been a bad
discography participant of late, and I almost ignored this thematic challenge
too because there are so many songs that make me unexpectedly happy. The
seemingly infinite scope of possibility makes picking and committing to just
one rather daunting. It’s super easy for me to feel an extra skip in my step in
the midst of the drudgery of life (for example, while shopping for new deck
furniture because our old stuff is meh and borderline broken) when a blast from
the past or something emotionally meaningful infiltrates the mundane.
Appropriate or not, I’m really not partial or picky about context. So this
month’s selection ended up picking itself, when yesterday I happened to notice
it playing in the background--such fun. “Where feelings, not reasons, can make
you decide.” Resonant words, whether picking a song, shopping for lawn
furniture, or navigating life.
Gary Scudder
Bananarama, Cruel Summer
Well, first off, who doesn't love Bananarama? I mean, it's Bananarama, FFS. That said, I mainly like to hear this song pop up unexpectedly because it reminds me of a good friend and an odd event that helped make my transition into graduate school easier. Much like college, I guess, except on steroids, graduate school can be pretty daunting, at least until you figure out the routine. My ex-wife, a woman of profound intelligence and perception (with the exception of her choice in men), walked out of her first, and only, history graduate party and said, a little too loudly (she got a little tipsy to get through the pain), "It's like the Island of Misfit Toys." What you realize, of course, very quickly, is that it is mainly populated by odd little misfits who could not exist successfully in the real world, and they often disguise their sociopathic otherness by and inflated sense of their own genius and intellectual worth. I can still remember the first in-class question that one of my colleagues asked me. I had written a paper on Peter Gay's The Party of Humanity (most of history graduate school, at least early on, is writing five page reviews of famous books to provide us with a foundational knowledge, or because they simply can't think of anything else to do with us). Anyway, the first question I ever received in graduate school was from a more seasoned student that we not so lovingly referred to as "the Lungfish." His question: "Do you know Peter Gay's real name?" Obviously, he was asking me the question because he knew the answer, and I had this amazing epiphany: "Ooohhh, so we're just fucking around here; I'm going to own this place." However, the events leading to the selection of this song go back a couple weeks earlier when I first walked into the history TA room. The history teaching assistant office was (and maybe still is) this absurdly cramped little room on the third floor of McMicken Hall at the University of Cincinnati (DK can speak to it's dreadfulness). I walked into the room with some apprehension, and looked around at a room full of folks reading newspapers (when people read newspapers) and books, talking about conference papers they were writing, and getting caught up with each other. One of the veterans looked up at me, the fresh meat, and asked, "How was your summer?" I replied, "Cruel," in honor of a chaotic summer, but also the foresaid Bananarama song. Everyone in the room looked at me like I had lobsters coming out of my ears, with the exception of another first year grad student, Doug Knerr, known to DK and BF - but also CB and MK in a very different context. He looked over the top of his newspaper with this look that said, "Yeah, I know, they're pretentious wankers, but we're going to be cool." It suddenly made graduate school much less terrifying. Even today, whenever I hear Cruel Summer, I always think of that moment and the beginning of a great friendship.
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