And Then There Was Maude

So Bea Arthur has moved on. She was 86 and she had a good run – as good as a human could hope (I would think).

I wasn’t even yet in grade school when she showed up as the title character in the television show Maude. As JB astutely notes, the show did have one of the funkiest themes of all time. Even at four or five, I knew there was something about it.

The show was incredibly topical, or so I’ve read. The subjects that the show addressed – abortion, racism, alcoholism – were not on my radar. I remember watching the show as a kid, but I had little idea what most of it was about.

I’m sure that I was amused by Maude’s brassy persona and sarcasm.

And I do most definitely remember Adrienne Barbeau.

Like Donny Hathaway’s theme and Maude herself, there was something that I found compelling about Adrienne Barbeau (even if I didn’t quite understand it).

So, bon voyage, Bea. You seemed like swell dame.

Some of the songs that were hits when Maude debuted in September, 1971…

Paul McCartney – Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey
I don’t recall hearing this song in 1971. If I did hear it, it didn’t register.

It is a wonderfully jaunty little tune. I mean, would it be considered a shanty?

What makes a song a shanty – a certain musical style or lots of nautical references? And with the Somalian pirates making headlines (or are they losing their audience?), could shanties be the grunge of this decade?

John Denver – Take Me Home, Country Roads
I do remember John Denver on the radio and he was one of the first acts to catch my ear. Of course, those television specials were some of the first music performances I probably viewed. At the age of five, this long-haired fellow in the floppy hat, traipsing around the Rockies with bear cubs and denim-clad hippie chicks was, in my mind, The Man.

I still love Take Me Home, Country Roads. Every time it pops up on shuffle Paloma and I wonder if Emmylou Harris sings on the song (and, each time I make a mental note to research that and, each time, I forget).

The Carpenters – Superstar
Like John Denver, The Carpenters hits in the early ’70s are some of the first songs I vividly remember hearing on the radio. If I had to make a short list of favorites by the duo, Superstar would most definitely be on there.

As someone who listens to a lot of music, I probably should receive demerits for not knowing songwriter Leon Russell’s version (actually, I confess to not really being familiar with Russell at all (although I’m sure I’ve read about him at Whiteray’s blog).

All of that aside, Superstar is pretty glorious.

The Doors – Riders On The Storm
Even though Jim Morrison had been dead for well over a decade, The Doors were one of the bands among most of the students in my high school. The band’s hold was taken to an extreme by two sisters who were rather adamant that they were illegitimate hatchlings of The Lizard King.

Apparently, it was the last song that The Doors recorded as a band, from sessions in December of 1970. Three months later, Morrison would move to Paris.

Riders On The Storm would have to be considered one of The Doors’ signature songs and it is one cinematic trip.

If I'd Known He Was My Neighbor, I'd Have Brought Him Some Haggis

For a band that had such minimal commercial success here in the States, Big Country made their one shot a memorable one. In A Big Country is a well-worn touchstone in the world of ’80’s pop culture.

When the Scottish band arrived in the autumn of ’83, there was a lot of enthusiastic press. Big Country fit comfortably aside baby bands like U2, Simple Minds, Waterboys, The Alarm…groups making anthemic (sometimes sweeping) music fused with idealist lyrics which often sought to match (or exceed) the melodies for drama.

At the time, the outcome that U2 would someday achieve global success seemed to be a foregone conclusion. However, I would have offered a rebuttal had I been told that, following their almost self-titled hit, Big Country was headed for cultdom in America.

(I sometimes wonder if there’s a parallel universe where Big Country is doing stadium tours and U2 is known only for one song –say Where The Streets Have No Name.)

I’m not comparing Big Country’s body of work to U2, but their first two albums – ‘83’s The Crossing and Steeltown from the following year – are definitely worth owning.

But after setting a template with their debut album and refining it to near perfection with the follow-up, the band seemed to ebb a bit and tread water from album number three, 1986’ The Seer, and onward.

Big Country would put out albums to be largely ignored in the States for another decade (actually some wouldn’t be released), but it seems that much of the rest of the world had love for them.

I had a chance to see them live in a club that was a converted warehouse in a part of town where there is that transition from neighborhood where you are reasonably safe most of the time to neighborhood which has a slight risk of danger at most of the time.

Several years later, I would also have the chance to meet lead singer/guitarist Stuart Adamson. He lived in my neighborhood and was an acquaintance of a friend.

This friend, who worked for a record label, called me one afternoon, telling me how he was headed over to drop some CDs off for Stuart. Knowing that I was a fan, I was invited along.

Ten minutes later, we’re standing in Stuart Adamson’s front lawn; no more than a ten blocks from where I lived, hanging out with the man on an overcast, spring day.

We weren’t there long. Stuart’s young son was scampering around the front yard. Stuart seemed like a guy at ease with the world, at one point offering the hyperkinetic tyke the fatherly advice that jail was a place best avoided.

That’s about all I remember. I really needed subtitles. The brogue which I had grown up hearing on record was much more pronounced in person.

Sadly, in a year or so, he would be found dead in a hotel room in Hawaii, having lost his struggle with alcoholism.

Some of my more favorite Big Country songs from those first albums…

Big Country – The Storm
I posted The Storm several weeks ago, prompted by a viewing of a show on one-hit wonders. However, I can’t do a post on Big Country without including the song. It might be the band’s finest moment.

Big Country – Fields Of Fire
Sometimes lost in the attention given to the effects-laden guitars of Adamson and Bruce Watson, was that the band had a formidable rhythm section. Bassist Tony Butler has played with The Pretenders, Roger Daltrey, and Pete Townshend

Drummer Mark Brzezicki has an equally impressive array of credits. He also had one of the largest wingspans of any human I’ve ever seen (or so it seemed). Seeing him play live was mesmerizing – like watching the Hindu goddess Kali behind a drum kit.

Fields Of Fire was the follow-up single to In A Big Country that most people missed.

Big Country – Wonderland
Sandwiched between Big Country’s debut and follow-up was a four-track EP which arrived in the spring of 1984. The highlight was the bracing Wonderland, which was actually a (very) minor hit in the US and got a fair amount of airplay on the alternative radio station I was listening to at the time.

Big Country – Steeltown
The title track of their second album, Steeltown has a thunderous cadence reminiscent of In A Big Country. It’s bone-rattling.

Lyrically, it chronicles the struggles of the working class. On Steeltown, the themes were grittier and the band had an authenticity concerning such matters. In that respect, I’d describe Big Country as Scotland’s answer to Bruce Springsteen & The E-Street Band.

Big Country – Flame Of The West
Like In A Big Country, a sense of wanderlust pulsates throughout Flame Of The West. The first song on Steeltown, it kicked the album off in high gear, galloping along at a breakneck pace.

Big Country – Come Back To Me
Also from Steeltown, Come Back To Me closed the first side and showcases a different side of Big Country. Its tale revolves around a widow and a fatherless child with Adamson singing from the point of view of the former (hearing him deliver the line “I have your child inside me” is a bit jarring and always makes me imagine him as a seahorse).

Seahorses and male pregnancy aside, it’s a lovely, poignant song.

It Would Have To Be Pretty Cool To Hit The Links With Alice

To paraphrase The Shaggs, the skinny people want what the skinny people’s got and the fat people want what the skinny people’s got. That seems to explain actors and actresses as well as athletes who, having gained notoriety in their field, often take a stab at music.

And, there have been musicians who have opted to treat us to their skills as thespians.

However, I was pondering notable musicians who might have once held promise or harbored dreams of being a professional athlete.

This question marinated in my head while I was watching part of an NBA playoff game. In the late ’70s/early ’80s, I was a devout fan of professional basketball, something that was not always easy to do before Bird and Magic entered the league and put games into American households on a regular basis.

(I distinctly recall tuning into games during the ’78 finals between Washington and Seattle at 11:30pm as they were slotted into those late-night times as tape delayed offerings)

Anyhow, now I rarely watch pro hoops aside from catching some of the playoff games. The one the other night proved unspectacular enough to hold my interest.

I picked up a Jim Carroll album which Paloma had recently purchased. Carroll, best known for his song People Who Died, had seen his journals published as The Basketball Diaries, which chronicled his double life as a high school basketball star/heroin addict.

It spurred me to wonder what other musicians might have considered or had the ability to pursue an athletic career.

It’s been told of how when touring Bob Marley & The Wailers much of their down time was spent playing football. Had the stars aligned differently might Bob or Peter Tosh have led a Jamaican national team to glory in the World Cup?

I remembered that Fountains Of Wayne’s Adam Schlesinger had been a minor league baseball player and Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich had been a ranked tennis player as a teen in Sweden.

It made me wonder if Tom Petty had been a natural at shortstop in junior high and is, perhaps, still a force on the softball field when his clan gathers for family reunions.

It amuses me to think that the members of Cheap Trick might be the nucleus of a hoops juggernaut, dominating all-comers at some rec center in Rockford – Robin Zander running the point, Bun E. Carlos down in the low post, and Rick Nielsen manning the wing.

A few songs by acts who I know have had some connection to sports…

Fountains Of Wayne – Radiation Vibe
I remember how popular (or, at least how critically acclaimed with critics) Radiation Vibe was back in the mid-’90s. I suppose most people best know Fountains Of Wayne for Stacy’s Mom, but that one wore thin with me rather quickly.

Each time Radiation Vibe pops up on shuffle, I make a mental note (which I promptly lose) to delve deeper into Fountains Of Wayne’s catalog.

Blue Oyster Cult – Perfect Water
I could have sworn I had People Who Died on some compilation disc (but I don’t) and I haven’t yet ripped the Jim Carroll record Paloma bought…

However, I seem to be on some subconscious wavelength to ensure the world gets its RDA of BOC. The last album of theirs I bought was Club Ninja in ’86. It was not a good album, but Perfect Water was one of the few songs that were worthy and it was written by Mr. Carroll.

Chris Isaak – Somebody’s Crying
I’ve always thought Chris Isaak’s music to be pleasant and good-natured and he always seemed to be pleasant and good-natured. He wandered into a record store where I worked once and he was, yeah, pleasant and good-natured.

He was also – and uncharacteristic for most musicians I’ve met – a big guy. It was quite easy to envision him as a Golden Gloves champion (which he was).

Alice Cooper – School’s Out
My all-time greatest arch-enemy had to have been my third-grade teacher. More days than not, the two of us were at odds. I was (mostly) indifferent to music and she was an Alice Cooper fan.

I’m not sure if that was why I never bothered with Alice Cooper’s music or rather because during the ’80s – my musically formative years – he wasn’t on top of his game. Since Paloma and I have been buying vinyl, one of my favorite revelations has been how very, very good Cooper was in the first half of the ’70s.

Watching The TV Guide Channel

I was stunned the first time I saw the TV Guide Channel. I don’t think I had cable at the time, but I was house-sitting for a friend. Late one night, I stumbled upon a channel which was showing nothing but a hypnotic, scrolling schedule of my choices.

I was mesmerized. There was no need to even exert the minimal effort to actually channel surf. This was the stuff of genius.

I sat there boggle-eyed, maybe for hours. None of the programming listed was as gripping and, no matter whichever choice I made, I invariably returned to this magical channel.

I had to watch because if I didn’t I might miss something I’d wanted to watch because I was watching something else.

The other night, I consulted the TV Guide Channel. And, amidst the uninspiring offerings, a title caught my eye – Top Gun.

Man, I hadn’t seen that flick since it had been in theaters and I’d left that viewing feeling like I’d missed the evolutionary train for being slack-jawed enough to help the people who made this movie make money.

(and the flick made lots of money back in ’86)

Could it have been as bad as I remembered? I hopped on over to Bravo to give it another viewing.

I managed to hang with it through the opening as the flight scenes were engaging enough.

My head was soon resting on my hand (which was covering my eyes from the steaming pile of over wrought tripe which I was witnessing).

I had lasted roughly twenty-two minutes, until Tom Cruise began serenading the Amish chick from Witness.

As I sought to find something less insulting to my intelligence – or even as equally insulting so long as it was more entertaining – nothing was to be found.

Girding my loins (which sounds like something a Republican senator might get caught doing in a men’s bathroom at an airport), I flipped back to Top Gun.

Now Amish Chick was declaring her forbidden love to a sun glassed Tom Cruise, the two of them silhouetted against the setting sun, he having just chased down her convertible on his motorcycle as the wind swept through their hair (which didn’t so much as flinch).

I resisted the urge to batter my head against the table ‘til I bled from my eyes.

I’d need those orbs to eyeball the TV Guide Channel.

A-Ha – The Sun Always Shines On TV
Here in the States, the Norwegian trio A-Ha has been relegated to one-hit wonder status which is unfortunate. Sure, everyone knows Take On Me, but that song’s follow-up, The Sun Always Shines On TV, is a far better song. It hurtles along with a gloriously yearning melody and, as I recall, the video was almost as striking as the song for which they’re better known.

Bow Wow Wow – (I’m A) TV Savage
Was there a more fetching ingenue in ’80s music than Bow Wow Wow’s Anabella Lwin? (there’s never been a fifteen-year old Burmese chick with a mohawk quite like her)

Annabella aside, Bow Wow Wow was lots of fun. Sure, many of their songs were indistinguishable from one another – Annabella yelping manically over that tribal drumming – but fun nonetheless.

Cheap Trick – Ballad Of TV Violence (I’m Not The Only Boy)
Paloma and I have acquired most of Cheap Trick’s albums on vinyl (at least the ones worth acquiring) save for their self-titled debut on which this song appears. Instead, this is a live version from their box set Sex, America, Cheap Trick.

Headlights – TV
The trio Headlights seemed to have all the hip kids abuzz some time back (I could verify this except Spin magazine elicits the same reaction from me as Top Gun).

Like Cheap Trick, Headlights come from Illinois (Rockford for the former, Champaign for the latter) and their song Cherry Tulips is nearly perfect indie pop. TV, from their 2006 debut album Kill Them With Kindness, is the only other song of Headlights which I have heard, but it leads me to believe that the hip kids might actually be on to something.

Fridays On My Mind

Out of nowhere the other night, the show Fridays popped into my head and I was rather surprised to find it there. Fridays was a late-night, sketch comedy show that aired in the early ‘80s as a rival to the similar Saturday Night Live.

I’m not sure why, but I didn’t really watch SNL until high school and haven’t watched it since the mid-’90s. The first show of its type which I was watching was Fridays (and, on occasion, Second City Television).

Of course, really the only thing that I could remember about Fridays was that Michael Richards had been a member of the cast and they had a lot of musical guests whom I was – at that time – mostly unfamiliar.

I did a bit of research and found that it aired for two seasons beginning in April of 1980. It had an interesting mix of guest hosts including George Carlin, Marty Feldman, Jamie Lee Curtis, and Madeline Kahn.

(if you had been in a relationship with Madeline, wouldn’t it have been impossible to not indiscriminately bellow “Kahn!!!” ala Shatner?)

Richards was, indeed, a cast member, notably involved in a strange prank with Andy Kaufman. and known for his recurring character Battle Boy, a hyperkinetic boy who finds new and creative ways to destroy his toy soldiers (fire was usually involved). Larry David, also instrumental to the success of Seinfeld, was in the cast, too (which I hadn’t remembered).

As for the musical guests…it’s a pretty compelling list of acts that wouldn’t have been getting much exposure on radio at the time in my part of the Midwest.

The Boomtown Rats, The Tubes, Devo, The Jam, The Plasmatics, Split Enz, Jim Carroll, Ian Hunter – all performed on the show.

There were also guests who were more mainstream and who, even though I was only beginning to care about music, I knew like Kenny Loggins, Journey, Tom Petty, The Cars, Pat Benatar, Eddie Money, Scandal and Quarterflash.

As I was transitioning from junior high to high school during Fridays ‘s run, I didn’t always get the humor, but I remember my friends and I being entertained by the show. Each episode was a source of banter for the next several days.

And it gave me the chance to hear some music and artists for the first time.

AC/DC – You Shook Me All Night Long
According to the Wikipedia entry on Fridays, AC/DC’s appearance on the show was the band’s American television debut with lead singer Brian Johnson following the death of Bon Scott. The mighty You Shook Me All Night Long was one of a number of classic AC/DC songs on Back In Black, their first album recorded with Johnson.

The Clash – Train In Vain (Stand By Me)
When The Clash were on Fridays in April, 1980, “the only band that matters” had recently released their album London Calling and the group had broken through on radio in the States with Train In Vain. It was one of the songs they performed on their first appearance on American TV.

Stray Cats – Rock This Town
Although Stray Cats’ Rock This Town wouldn’t be a hit on American radio until the autumn of 1982, the song had already been released in the UK a year earlier when the trio from Long Island performed it on Fridays. Like The Clash, their appearance served as Stray Cats’ introduction to television audiences in the US.

The Cars – Touch And Go
TV.com credits The Cars with two appearances on Fridays. I do remember seeing them perform Touch And Go from their album Panorama. Moody and menacing, Touch And Go wasn’t one of The Cars’ biggest hits, but it’s always been a favorite of mine.

Accidentally Poking The Nun With A Stick (Or, Maybe She Simply Wasn’t A Lakers Fan)

Unlike last Easter, Paloma and I opted for a more traditional take on the holiday this year – I’d promised we could go shopping for some plants and flowers.

As the late morning sky resembled that from the opening credits of The Simpsons, we decided to head out into the countryside and, forty-five minutes later, she was loading up a cart at a lawn and garden store.

Checking out, Paloma made polite conversation with the clerk. As it was roughly noon on Easter, she asked if things had been slow.

The clerk replied that, actually, quite the opposite was true. “Guess people ‘round here don’t go to church on Easter Sunday.”

His eye contact conveyed disapproval and his tone had enough accusation in it for me to, momentarily, consider telling him that we were Muslim were late for the call to prayer.

However, as “’round here” was Sticksville, I suspected such a comment might have brought Homeland Security into the mix. Paloma had promised me KFC for lunch, so, obviously, that would have been an inconvenience.

When I was in third grade, basketball great Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was only about half a dozen years removed from being known as Lew Alcindor. As Larry Bird and Magic Johnson wouldn’t really bring the NBA onto my radar for several years, I doubt that I knew Abdul-Jabbar by any name.

(I was surprised that both Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Lew Alcindor passed spell check – what a glorious time to be alive)

As a nine-year old who was being raised Catholic in a small Midwestern town, I doubt I’d heard of Islam, either, until reading an article on Abdul-Jabbar in some magazine (probably Sports Illustrated).

The piece made me aware of the greatness of Abdul-Jabbar and it served as a foreshadowing of the future.

After several days of letting the subject slosh around in my nine-year old brain, I decided to take up the matter in religion class with Sister Jonette.

“Sister Jonette, we’re Catholic and believe in God, yes?”

So far, so good.

“And some people are Muslim and they believe in Allah, right?”

I was suddenly sailing into unfavorable waters.

“So, how do we know that we’re not praying to the same god? Or, what if we’ve got the wrong one?”

Sister Jonette had to be eighty-years old. She was of the ruler-wielding generation of nuns. She was not really of the demographic to take into account that I was quite honestly curious about a topic that would prove to be vexing to a lot of folks down the road.

I tried to throw Kareem under the bus as the source of my curiosity.

As I shuffled off to the principal’s office, I was no closer to having a grasp on spirituality, but I had learned a valuable lesson regarding religion.

Queens Of The Stone Age – God Is In The Radio

Beth Orton (with Emmylou Harris and Ryan Adams) – God Song

Faithless – God Is A DJ

Manic Street Preachers – The Girl Who Wanted To Be God

Is Lindsey Buckingham Considered More Appropriate For Tea Time?

Recently, the television provoked me into doing some research on one-hit wonders. As I live in the States, perusing the ‘80s portion of The UK One Hit Wonders Site was an interesting read.

I noticed that Thomas Dolby and Tom Tom Club each only had one hit in the UK (as is the case here in the US). However, in the UK, those lone hits were Hyperactive and Wordy Rappinghood, respectively – neither being the songs that were hits here (that would be She Blinded Me With Science and Genius Of Love).

But, perhaps the thing that puzzled me most was Stevie Nicks.

According to this site, Stevie Nicks is a one-hit wonder in the UK.

Such a thing seemed unfathomable. There were few female artists in the early ‘80s who had more music on the radio here in the States. Nicks’ first two solo albums, Bella Donna and The Wild Heart were massive.

One of the rock stations I listened to at the time would even play the hell out of something like Violet And Blue, a song from the Against All Odds soundtrack, simply because it was by Nicks.

In the UK, her only hit was in 1989 with Rooms On Fire (it’s not a bad song, but it came well after her solo career had peaked in the US).

Why had the UK proven to be impervious to the charms of Ms. Nicks?

Was it all the twirling?

Was it the shawls and lace?

Was it that she sang a song glorifying a Welsh witch?

It’s not like Fleetwood Mac was a footnote act and for many fans – especially those who wouldn’t know Peter Green if he was taking potshots at them with an air rifle – she was the soul of the band.

Apparently, few of those fans reside in the UK.

Stevie Nicks – After The Glitter Fades
Bella Donna was inescapable when it came out in ’81 with songs like Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around, Leather And Lace, and Edge Of Seventeen constantly on the radio.

I preferred the lesser-known After The Glitter Fades which was more low-key and intimate than Bella Donna’s other hits.

Stevie Nicks – If Anyone Falls
Leading off with the song Stand Back, Nicks’ follow-up to Bella Donna, The Wild Heart, picked up where the former left off in 1983. Despite my relative indifference to Bella Donna, I purchased a copy of The Wild Heart and, start to finish, I still think it’s her best solo album (of course, I’ve only heard a handful of songs from her more recent releases).

If Anyone Falls, though, would likely be my favorite track by Nicks as a solo artist (with Fleetwood Mac it would undoubtedly be Sara).

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers with Stevie Nicks – Needles And Pins
Nicks’ first solo hit, Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around, found her accompanied by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. The Wild Heart included a similar union with the song I Will Run To You.

However, I prefer their cover of a hit by The Searchers (co-written by Sonny Bono) which appeared on Petty’s album Pack Up The Plantation: Live!

Stevie Nicks – Rooms On Fire
Rock A Little, Nicks’ third solo effort, was the last studio album of hers which I owned (I did snag a promo copy of her Enchanted box set from a label rep). I thought it really suffered from the slick, glossy production which was the norm in the mid-‘80s.

There would be a four-year gap until Nicks’ next solo release in 1989 with The Other Side Of The Mirror (apparently it was inspired by Alice In Wonderland) which gave Stevie her only UK hit with Rooms On Fire.

Beyond The One Hit Of The One-Hit Wonders Of The '80s

During the past week, on several different evenings, I channel-surfed into one of those countdown shows on VH1 – this one covering the greatest one-hit wonders of the ‘80s.

It sucked me into its vortex like a black hole scarfing down a small galaxy.

(I am not a physicist so I do not stand behind the accuracy of that simile)

It was a lot of familiar ground – Thomas Dolby, Toni Basil, The Buggles – but there were also songs by acts that actually had other, lesser hits or at least other songs that I heard on the radio.

There were also songs by groups that might not have been well-known to most of the public, but who were favorites of me and my friends – the aforementioned Dolby, Devo and ‘Til Tuesday (to name a few).

So, here are some lesser-known songs by acts identified far more by a singular hit…

Devo – Girl U Want
In high school, a friend who was passionate about Devo made me familiar with the band beyond Whip It and Working In A Coal Mine. There might still be graffiti in our hometown relating to Devo.

Girl U Want is simply groovy – groovy being the first word that comes to mind when I think of the song. Then, I think of the movie Tank Girl as it appeared in that flick’s animated, opening credits.

Big Country – The Storm
Is there anyone who still believes that there were actual bagpipes in Big Country’s song In A Big Country?

I owned the first four or five Big Country albums, buying them as they were released. Steeltown, their second record, would be the one to own, but their debut, with the hit, is a strong album, too.

The Storm was a favorite from the first time I heard it on that debut.

‘Til Tuesday – Coming Up Close
Like most guys watching MTV in 1985, my friends and I were left slack-jawed and smitten by Aimee Mann in ‘Til Tuesday’s video for Voices Carry.

Image aside, ‘Til Tuesday made three very good records, shedding members over the course of those albums. By the time the band reached its end after Everything’s Different Now, Aimee Mann had guided their sound from chilly New Wave to a more organic, guitar-jangling alternative rock.

That sound had been hinted at on the group’s second album, especially on the stellar Coming Up Close.

Aldo Nova – Monkey On Your Back
I’ve read music writers who have noted Aldo Nova’s song Fantasy as one of the first pop metal hits, paving the way for radio stations to play acts like Def Leppard.

His second album, Subject, was a more interesting record (at least it was to me in 1983) – the songs were stronger and there were some strange, brief instrumentals between some of them.

Lyrics were not one of Nova’s strength, but Monkey On Your Back seemed edgy to me at fifteen; not so much now, but it’s a cool trip back in time.

Out Of Africa And Headed For Hollywood

I am a dog person.

I am a dog person sharing a home with a trio of cats.

There does seem to be much posturing between those who prefer canines and those who opt for felines, the two factions seeming to be only slightly less contentious than the Christian right and, well, everyone else.

Although I do prefer dogs, I have come to grow fond of the cats which Paloma has brought into my life.

I’ve often been inspired by television commercials to suggest that our cats might be able to get into that line of work. The animals jockeying for position on our couch seem to have as much personality as those shilling products.

The other night, I brought up the idea – again.

“I’ve heard the cats in commercials scheme,” Paloma assured me. She seemed mostly amused.

“We’ve got one on death’s door (she isn’t), one who’s overweight (she is) and one that’s a feral kitten (it’s true). And you want to put them on a set with a bunch of strangers and cameras and have them perform on command?”

Admittedly, her review of the plan, while accurate, made it seem slightly half-baked.

“Umm. Yes?” I replied.

On cue, Pizza, the kitten (see photo courtesy of Paloma), shot through the room in a blur of fur.

(Paloma brought her home as a stray and she is, literally, feral as we have discovered that she is a Savannah, a relatively new breed that is a cross between an African serval and a domesticated house cat)

Pizza’s mad dash ended abruptly in a collision with a chair. She flopped back on her haunches, blinked, turned, and darted off as quickly as she had arrived.

“So, are you going to have business cards printed that say ‘Cat Wrangler’?”

Maybe not quite yet.

Francis Dunnery – Everyone’s A Star
Some artists undeservedly slip from my radar, so it’s always welcome when something prompts a reminder. I’d kind of forgotten about Francis Dunnery until he was mentioned over at Fusion 45 recently.

I own two of Dunnery’s solo albums and both are well worth searching out. Everyone’s A Star comes from his debut, Fearless, which also includes Good Life, one of the most heartbreaking songs I think I’ve ever heard.

He also was a member of Robert Plant’s touring band and I got to catch him with Plant on the latter’s Fate Of Nations tour in ’93 or so.

James – She’s A Star
Another underappreciated act (at least here in the States), but James did find brief success with their song Laid.

She’s A Star comes from Whiplash, which was their first album after Laid was a hit. It failed to maintain their momentum even though they snagged a spot on Lollapalooza that summer.

Billy Joel – Say Goodbye To Hollywood
I’m strangely ambivalent about Billy Joel. If you asked me if I liked Billy Joel, I’d probably shrug and say something like, “He’s OK.”

But when I do hear one of his songs, I’m surprised at how often I pause, mentally list his songs in my head, and realize that the guy does have some truly fantastic tracks in his catalog. Say Goodbye To Hollywood is certainly (and always has been) one of my favorite songs (maybe the favorite) by him.

I never tire of hearing it.

Concrete Blonde – Still In Hollywood
I’ve realize that I’ve had the opportunity to see each of the acts in this post live. I’ve been quite fortunate that way.

I keep vowing to write about Concrete Blonde as the trio did produce some of my favorite music of the late ’80s/early ’90s. And as much as I adore Johnette as a frontwoman, I thought guitarist James Mankey never got as much love as he should have.

Dark Night

So, Paloma and I participated in Earth Hour over the past weekend. For those of you who missed it, ignored it or simply don’t live on Earth, the rules entailed turning off all of the lights for one hour.

(not that the Earth has ever done the same for me, but…)

So, there we were, sitting in near darkness with only the reassuring glow of the television to comfort us through the perils of the unilluminated, nocturnal world.

(much like our ancestors did thousands of years ago)

In a seemingly fortuitous twist of fate, the movie 10,000 B.C. had arrived from Netflix. I hoped to pick up a few coping skills.

Time became meaningless as seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to more minutes. It could have been the movie which left me with possibly the most vacant feeling a movie ever has. It was kind of like the cinematic experience of eating Chinese food.

(personally, I’ve never found a shred of truth in that cliché)

Even Straight To Hell left me humming some songs and puzzling over what I had just seen.

10,000 B.C. completely flat-lined me.

Stuff happened. More stuff happened. Some cave people wandered a desert. I think that the good guys triumphed.

It was like Quest For Fire without the personality.

(I quite liked Quest For Fire)

I looked up at the clock once to see that we had only doused the lights forty-six minutes earlier. I was certain it had been an hour.

Either it was an incredibly boring flick or sitting in the dark had bent the time space continuum or induced some psychosis due to light deprivation.

I think it was likely the former.

The Jayhawks – Stumbling Through The Dark
During the twenty years or so that they’ve been releasing records, The Jayhawks have hardly reinvented fire, but while they might not be groundbreaking, they certainly do what they do quite well.

Whenever one of their songs pops up on the iPod’s shuffle, I know that I’m likely set for three minutes or so of something quite breath-taking.

The Police – Darkness
The hits of The Police were so effortlessly melodic, it was often easy to miss that much of their lyrical content was quite dark.

Darkness isn’t one of the best tracks on their Ghost In The Machine album (I’d have to go with Spirits In The Material World or Invisible Sun), but it’s hardly filler, either. Stewart Copeland wrote the song and its theme of the drudgery of day to day life makes it a cousin of sorts to Sting’s lyrics for the title track to The Police’s next record, Synchronicity.

The Blasters – Dark Night
I want to like The Blasters. I’ve read wonderful things, they seem like the genuine article, and I have liked the handful of songs I know. Unlike The Jayhawks, when shuffle pulls up a song by The Blasters, I always seem to look at the screen for the title of a song I don’t recognize, see that it’s The Blasters, and hit next.

It simply seems as if each and every time I’m presented with the chance to check them out, I’m not in the mood for their sound.

I loved Dark Night from the first time I heard it during the closing credits of From Dusk ‘Til Dawn. As I was in a theater, I couldn’t fast forward and, besides, the song was perfect for that flick.

Blue Oyster Cult – After Dark
I rarely am able to pass up a chance to post something by Blue Oyster Cult. After Dark was on their Fire Of Unknown Origin. That album might not be noted as a seminal moment in the history of music, but – from the moody title track to the eerie closer Don’t Turn Your Back – it is a fantastic rock record (and the cover artwork is a favorite)

(and doesn’t it seem like everyone knows Burnin’ For You even if they might not know who sings it?)

However, if pressed, I might point a finger at After Dark as the weakest link on Fire Of Unknown Origin. It’s still an engaging track, though.