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.

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.

It's Blue Oyster Cult's World (You'll Soon Just Be Living In It)

As music is essential to the existence of both Paloma and me, it’s fortuitous that, for the most part, our tastes are aligned. There are, not surprisingly, exceptions and most are remnants of our respective childhoods, rooted in fond memories intrinsic to each of us.

Paloma would shake her head at the poster of Asia’s first album cover which adorned my bedroom wall when we first met. She would shun my desire to put on some Journey – although, much later, I would learn that she had, in fact, seen them on their Escape tour.

And, she refused to acknowledge the unmitigated greatness of Blue Oyster Cult. Perhaps that is hyperbolic, but it is pleasing to know that we are poised on the precipice of a Blue Oyster Cult revival which will vindicate my long-standing defense of the band and reduce all naysayers to addle-pated apologists staring boggle-eyed and cowering before a tide of global adoration that will make the American Idol sycophants appear to be flaccid and inert in their support…well…just be prepared.

My introduction to Blue Oyster Cult came via a third-grade classmate, Schrader, who, to appropriate Kramer’s description of Newman on Seinfeld, was “portly, yet smart as a whip.” Schrader would blather on and on about the band while I would attempt to negotiate lunchtime swaps of tater tots for desserts.

As my own interest in music was a good five years away, I missed Blue Oyster Cult’s heyday and my only exposure at that point was a handful of older tracks heard on radio (mainly limited to (Don’t Fear) The Reaper), although, Shooting Shark and Dancin’ In The Ruins did get some airplay where I lived.

Of course, the foundation for the imminent Blue Oyster Cult revival was laid with Saturday Night Live and the mania surrounding Christopher Walken’s insistence on “more cowbell.” It has now reached critical mass as, much to my delighted ears, I am hearing Godzilla used in some commercial. Proudly I can say I have no idea product it is presumed I will provoked to purchase, but I am delighted at the prospect of the song blaring from televisions nationwide.

And Paloma, well, I can’t say she is totally on board with Blue Oyster Cult, but thanks to negotiating skills honed bartering for tater tots years ago, I managed to secure her blessing to play their compilation The Workshop Of The Telescopes last week as we drove about doing errands. I think she’s cracking

Blue Oyster Cult – Veteran Of The Psychic Wars
Ominous and spooky (but not too ominous and spooky), it was these qualities which, I suspect, drew the aforementioned Schrader to the band. My introduction to this song was through its appearance in the movie Heavy Metal, a movie that’s viewing – due to its combination of cartoons, rock music, and an R-rating – was required to me and my teen aged friends.

Blue Oyster Cult – Goin’ Through The Motions
I first heard Goin’ Through The Motions when Bonnie Tyler covered it on her Faster Than The Speed Of Night album. The mind boggles to imagine Blue Oyster Cult covering Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

Blue Oyster Cult – In Thee
As I mentioned in reference to Shooting Shark , Patti Smith was at one-time romantically involved with Blue Oyster Cult keyboardist Allen Lanier and wrote several of the band’s songs. In Thee, written by Lanier, was written about Smith.

Blue Oyster Cult – Godzilla

Blue Oyster Cult – Burnin’ For You
Sure, Blue Oyster Cult was lumped in with early heavy metal bands like Steppenwolf, Black Sabbath, and Led Zeppelin, but – due to my frame of reference when I discovered music – heavy metal was music whose practitioners wore spandex and either sang of non-stop parties or dragons. Well, I suppose Godzilla fulfills the latter requirement, but only Blue Oyster Cult had the vision to pay homage to the greatest dragon of them all.

As for Burnin’ For You, quick research reveals it to be one of the band’s two songs to be Top 40 hits in America – for now.

Blue Oyster Cult – Dancin’ In The Ruins
Growing up in Sticksville, MTV was unavailable to us during its infancy. By the time it did arrive (three years after the rest of the world), Blue Oyster Cult was becoming an afterthought. However, Dancin’ In The Ruins would get played in the wee hours and was the first video of the band I ever saw. Of course, the video – seemingly inspired by Mad Max – would lead the viewer to believe Skatebordin’ In The Ruins would have been a more appropriate (albeit more cumbersome) title.

"I'm talkin' about earnin' a livin'. I'm talkin' about sharkin'"

Maybe it’s a guy thing, but, it’s damned near impossible for me to stumble across the movie Jaws while channel surfing and not get drawn into watching. Such was the case early this morning when, while enjoying my first cup of coffee, there was Chief Brody frantically clearing the beach in Amity – which, as you undoubtedly know, means friendship – to the chagrin of Mayor Vaughan.

Paloma walked into the living room, groggily rubbing sleep from her eyes, quickly recognized Richard Dreyfuss’ bearded mug, and shook her head. Much of her dismay stems from having been slightly traumatized by viewing the movie as a young girl while growing up within a frisbee toss of the beach. She will also tell you that I have logged more hours watching the movie than your average New England fisherman has spent at sea.

Again, maybe it’s a guy thing. The record store in which Paloma and I worked for several years had an adjoining video department where my friend Rob would ritualistically show the film at least once during every shift he worked.

Here in the States, I am certain that, between three or four of our cable stations, Jaws is always showing at any given time. TNT will occasionally devote an entire day to screening the four films of the series in marathon fashion (and to slog through number four has certainly got to be akin to gritting out the final miles of an actual marathon). However, if Roy Scheider isn’t involved, I abandon ship.

The film is a classic, a wonderful piece of cinema for which I have more appreciation since reading Peter Benchley’s novel – an abysmal mess of cliché and melodrama – some time ago. Every deviation Steven Spielberg and screenwriter Carl Gottlieb made from the source material was superior and the movie still holds suspense for me no matter how many times I’ve seen Ben Gardner’s waterlogged head pop out from the hull of his boat.

Although I am capable of reciting it almost at will, Quint’s tale of the USS Indianapolis’ sinking hooks me the moment he recounts how a “Japanese submarine slammed two torpedoes into her side” and I remain riveted until he concludes – “Anyway, we delivered the bomb.”

[I fear that someday soon there will be the inevitable CGI-riddled remake with a cast including Keanu Reeves as Chief Brody, some young cookie-cutter stud as Hooper, and Will Farrell as Quint.]

Beyond my appreciation for the artistry of the film, there’s also a psychological reason I watch. It’s hot here. The heat here today was so stifling it was as though God tossed the planet into the back of Her car and left it in there with the windows rolled up while She popped into the supermarket for a few things.

As we are landlocked, the images of cooling waters off the shores of Amity provide me with mental refreshment. It’s almost like I’m there and I don’t have to fear ending up as chum like Chrissy did while skinny dipping or that little Kintner boy (despite his mother’s admonishment that he was beginning to prune).

Blue Oyster Cult – Shooting Shark
This Blue Oyster Cult song, with it’s mysterious lyric and haunted feel, mesmerized me when I first heard it in 1983. Several years later when Patti Smith became one of my favorites, I learned that she had dated their keyboardist and written this lyric.

Tracy Bonham – Sharks Can’t Sleep
Bonham gained fame with her song Mother, Mother (off the same The Burden Of Being Upright album as this song), but seemed to get lost in the glut of post-Lilith Fair female artists. I always felt she deserved a better fate.

The Call – A Swim In The Ocean
Peter Gabriel once apparently referred to The Call as “America’s most important band,” but they never really were able to achieve more than a cult following. Lead singer Michael Been played the role of the apostle John in the movie The Last Temptation Of Christ which had a score written by Gabriel (everything’s connected). Thanks to the efforts of Roy Scheider, it is possible to go swim in the ocean off Amity Island.

Lyle Lovett – If I Had A Boat
An amazing live performer, I was fortunate enough to see him with his Large Band at the Ryman Auditorium (the original home of The Grand Ol’ Opry) in Nashville. This song was always a favorite, although it should go with saying that Quint would never have allowed a pony (or a large band) on the Orca.

Split Enz – Six Months In A Leaky Boat
If I recall correctly, this song was inspired by the conflict in the Falkland Islands. That aside, it’s a jaunty and infectious number, but probably not enough so to have kept Roy Scheider on the Orca for six days, let alone six months.