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Waking Up With Wilford Brimley

I woke up this morning to find Paloma under a blanket on the couch and Wilford Brimley’s whiskered mug on the television screen.

But there was more. There was the actor who played the titular character in The Mummy as well as Lance Henriksen (obviously supressing his dignity and picking up a paycheck).

As Wilford babbled away with a Cajun accent and I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, Jean-Claude Van Damme strode heroically into frame with an impressively sculpted mullet affixed to his noggin.

In the lower right-hand corner of the screen I noted the logo for Spike TV and everything I was witnessing made as much sense as it possibly could.

I looked at Paloma.

“It’s really bad,” she informed me, not elaborating but not needing to do so. I was watching Wilford Brimley fussing over some moonshine.

(personally, when I’m in the mood for a bad action flick from the ’80s/’90s, the hunt begins and ends with Steven Segal)

So, I’m struggling to awake, pondering Wilford Brimley and – and I am likely not alone here – my thoughts turned to Quaker Oats. I mean, anyone from the States that watched any television during the past twenty years recalls his stint as their pitchman and his almost threatening declaration that the consumption of those oats was “the right thing to do and a tasty way to do it.”

And, I can’t think of Wilford without thinking of Phil Kaufman.

Those of you neck-deep in music lore might recognize the name of Kaufman, who, as a road manager, worked with everyone from the Rolling Stones and Frank Zappa to Emmylou Harris and Marianne Faithfull. Kaufman was also involved in the theft of Gram Parsons’ body and, fulfilling Parsons’ wishes, his cremation in the Joshua Tree desert.

Paloma’s mother has long been a friend of Kaufman’s and I had met him years ago (in the presence of Marianne Faithfull, no less). For whatever reason, right or wrong, to me, he bore some resemblence to Brimley. I think it was a moustache thing.

I’m feeling better, though. I have had some coffee. Now, all I need to do is cleanse the mental palatte, completely evicting Wilford and his oats of malice from my headspace.

So, to help do so, here is a quintet of songs from Marianne Faithfull…

Marianne Faithfull – The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan
from Broken English

I knew little about Marianne Faithfull when the bookstore next to a record store where I worked scheduled her for an appearance. So, I grabbed a copy of Faithfull: A Collection of Her Best Recordings to have signed.

She was a tiny woman, petite and rather elegant. And she was smoking a cigarette.

As she signed the CD cover, she commented that she probably should quit smoking. Then, she took a drag and remarked that her grandmother smoked two packs a day and lived to be in her 80s.

Marianne Faithfull – Working Class Hero
from Broken English

When I finally sat down with Faithfull: A Collection of Her Best Recordings I instantly became a fan and one of the songs that converted me was her take on John Lennon’s Working Class Hero.

I knew the song, but her menacing version was far more powerful to me than the original. So much so that I convinced a band with whom I was working to open their shows with the song using Marianne’s cover as the template (it worked flawlessly).

The band found only limited success, but I spent the next few years accumulating most of her catalog.

Marianne Faithfull – Times Square
from Faithfull: A Collection of Her Best Recordings

Given the mostly uneven nature of Marianne’s albums, the compilation I grabbed to have her autograph was a wonderful introduction to her catalog. Times Square, like her strongest material, is a song that she completely inhabits.

Marianne Faithfull – Sliding Through Life On Charm
from Kissin’ Time

Marianne has often collaborated with other artists and I was interested to hear Kissin’ Time as she worked with an impressive array of modern rock acts like Smashing Pumpkins’ Billy Corgan, Blur’s Damon Albarn, and Beck. For the most part, the album was less than the sum of its parts.

However, Sliding Through Life On Charm, her collaboration with Pulp’s Jarvis Cocker, was a keeper, a driving four minutes or so of chainsaw disco laced with autobiographical references and piss and vinegar.

"I Once Drove Sixteen Hours For A Cup Of Coffee"

On nights like this one – the temperature dropping into the single digits – I rethink global warming being such a bad idea. Sure, there might be mosquitos the size of biplanes, global warfare over sunscreen, and Vanuatu might sink, but our teeth wouldn’t be chattering.

It’s raw outside. “It’s the kinda night that’s so cold that your spit freezes before it hits the ground.”

And that line from Cowboy Junkies’ ‘Cause Cheap Is How I Feel makes me think of a college friend who often quoted it on frigid nights when we’d head out to our favorite pub for a pint or two.

He was used to intemperate temperatures. He was from Brainerd, Minnesota, a small town, just south of the Arctic Circle where, if you had too lengthy a lunch, you risked missing the forty-five minutes of summer each year.

After we graduated, he returned to the Great White North and I headed in the other direction. There have been winter days when we’ve spoken on the phone and he has been positively giddy at the prospect of the temperature hitting thirty-five degrees.

This near Canadian was one of my best friends in college even though I was a slightly more coherent Jeff Lebowski and he was a far less villainous Gordon Gecko. Even if on paper our friendship shouldn’t have necessarily worked, it did.

He called me on some random Tuesday night in January. There was snow on the ground and I was sprawled on the couch watching hoops or a Barney Miller rerun.

“Want to go to Cleveland tomorrow?”

He had read about a coffee shop in Cleveland, Arabica Coffee House, and how spectacularly profitable it was and he wanted to do reconnaissance.

I was only taking a couple classes to finish my degree and, since I rarely went to them, I quickly jumped at the chance for an eight-hour ride in a drafty jeep.

So, the next day, he picked me up, we drove to Cleveland, hung at the coffee shop, met with the owner for a couple hours, and drove back to school.

This friend used to joke about wanting a jet and his mind was often working on a scheme as he had an entrepreneurial streak. His vision of green in a pile of coffee beans was especially prescient as, at the time of our java junket, Starbuck’s had fewer than 100 locations.

Had we followed through with the knowledge gained from that road trip, we might have been coffee moguls. This friend would remark that, when his biography was written, he wanted a chapter titled I Once Drove Sixteen Hours For A Cup Of Coffee.

For now, he’ll have to settle for this.

Of course, on our sixteen-hour trip, there was sixteen hours of music. I don’t recall exactly what we listened to – maybe some radio but mostly cassettes – but I could make some good guesses…

Cowboy Junkies – ‘Cause Cheap Is How I Feel
from 200 More Miles: Live Performances 1985–1994

Cowboy Junkies caused a commotion with The Trinity Sessions, but their sparse, unadorned sound was not quite where my head was at the time. Over the next decade, I’d snag several of their albums as promos, and I’ve never really given them more than a cursory listen. Margo Timmons does have a lovely voice, though, so perhaps I need to revisit them.

The Lightning Seeds – Pure
from Cloudcuckooland

Ian Broudie made some fine music, but with Pure he managed to concoct a perfectly infectious single.

World Party – Way Down Now
from Goodbye Jumbo

I had the chance to meet Karl Wallinger, ex-Waterboy and the creative force behind World Party. It was a small, private show and he struck me as a fascinating character – a tiny, slightly impish, rock and roll leprechaun.

As for Way Down Now, the song makes paranoia sound positively engaging.

Concrete Blonde – Caroline
from Bloodletting

Concrete Blonde was one of my favorite discoveries while in college and I quickly snagged each and every album the trio released, though most of their records were uneven.

Bloodletting was their momentary breakthrough with Joey becoming a hit and the title track getting some airplay on modern rock stations, too. But, for me, the wistful Caroline was one the band’s finest songs and featured some riveting, serpentine guitar courtesy of James Mankey.

Dear Barely Awake In Frog Pajamas II: Yes We Have No Pajamas

About six weeks or so ago, I noted some of the things that had led folks, via search engines, here.

It’s still a lot of folks searching for sleepwear.

And there are still questions which need answering. So, here are a few of your queries with the actual search engine topic in parenthesis…

Shouldn’t Joe Walsh have his own line of pajamas?
(Joe Walsh pajamas)

Not surprisingly, lots of people searching for pajamas end up here. And somewhere in the world there is someone that is searching for Joe Walsh pajamas.

When I think of Joe Walsh, I think zany, so, yes, Joe Walsh should have his own line of pajamas. Joe should also host a children’s show, wearing pajamas and regaling boggle-eyed toddlers with his songs and antics.

One friend in high school was a massive Joe Walsh fan and, in college, a roommate and I would always play Walsh’s then-current Got Any Gum? album when we had shifts together at the record store where we worked.

If Joe ever does get his own children’s show, he’s already got a theme song…

Joe Walsh – Life’s Been Good
from But Seriously, Folks…

Is it true that Elton John is afraid of frogs?
(elton john frogs)

Had Sir Elton seen the early ’70s horror flick Frogs! on the CBS Late Movie, he very well might be. It certainly spooked me a bit when I was a kid.

Personally, I have a feeling that he has little interaction with frogs. I can’t picture Elton camping or going on a fishing trip in Wisconsin.

(I’ve read that the world’s frog population is disappearing at an alarming rate – as frogs become more scarce, could they gain cachet, replacing the chihuahua as the pocket pet for the wealthy and vaccuous?)

I can imagine that Elton is a fan of The Muppets and it wouldn’t surprise me if he plays The Rainbow Connection when he’s hanging out at home, belting out a stirring rendition with no one around to hear it.

Kermit the Frog (Jim Henson) – The Rainbow Connection
from The Muppet Movie soundtrack

What kind of crazy stuff is in Bob Marley’s…
(what kind of crazy stuff in bob marley’s)

What kind of crazy stuff is in Bob Marley’s…what?

Attic?
Recipe for meatloaf?
Glove box?

I’m not sure why and I don’t recall ever seeing a photo of Bob Marley in a car, but I picture the reggae superstar driving a slightly-worn, early ’60s Mercedes – robin’s egg blue with a soccer ball in the backseat.

And in the glovebox? Gum, a French road map, a small wrench, three golf tees and a scorecard, and a box of Milk Duds with four of the candies inside and one rolling loose in the compartment – leftover from the last time the Wailers piled into the car to catch a night of kung fu flicks at the drive-in.

Whiteray ponders songs that are always a comfort and I’d have to have a few from Bob Marley.

Bob Marley & The Wailers – No Woman, No Cry [Live at The Roxy]
from Songs Of Freedom

Would you hit Alton Brown?
(would you hit alton brown)

In a post that includes Bob Marley, Muppets, and Joe Walsh, there is no possible way that I can advocate violence directed at Mr. Brown.

Now, Paloma seems to think Alton is becoming a bit of a diva on Iron Chef (I don’t see it), but neither of us have any reason or desire to pummel him. I dig the guy.

And, he looks like Thomas Dolby.

Concrete Blonde – Violent
from Group Therapy

The Not Contractually Obligated Top Ten Of 2009

Almost every artist in the history of mankind has at least one title in their catalog that is a compilation, a stopgap collection meant to maintain interest between releases (often to boost holiday sales) or to fulfill a contractual obligation.

This is the former, a chance to make use, one more time, of a lot of wasted time over the past twelve months.

A year ago, I reflected on the annual, childhood tradition of spending New Year’s Day with a half dozen blank cassettes as Q102 played back the Top 102 songs of the previous year.

So, as 2009 was the first, full calendar year of this blog’s existence, here are the most popular songs that appeared here during that time…

10. The Motels – Shame
from Shock
Coming Soon To A Record Store Near You (Or Not)

“In a previous life, I did a bit of freelance music journalism. For the past several years, I’ve been engaged in far more lucrative albeit soul-sucking work…”

9. Guadalcanal Diary – Watusi Rodeo
from Walking In The Shadow Of The Big Man
Dear Barely Awake In Frog Pajamas…

“Any Major Dude has noted the search engine terms leading the masses to his blog often involve unrequited or impossible love…”

8. Fleetwood Mac – Sara
from Tusk
Maybe I’ll Have Fleetwood Mac Perform At My Island Coronation

“Inspiration strikes at the most wondrously random moments. The other day, Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk popped up on shuffle…”

7. Big Country – The Storm
from The Crossing
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…”

6. General Public – Tenderness
from Weird Science soundtrack
Adios John Hughes

“Last Thursday night, checking the news before going to bed, I read the headline that filmmaker John Hughes was dead. As I am of the age I am, it’s a passing of someone that had a rather measurable impact on my childhood…”

5. Los Lobos – Will The Wolf Survive?
from Will The Wolf Survive?
Even Rock Stars Need A Hug Sometimes

“It surely doesn’t suck to be a rock star…”

4. The Jacksons – Can You Feel It?
from Triumph
Michael Jackson

“Word spread quickly at our office on Thursday that Michael Jackson had been rushed to the hospital. Less than two hours later, while I was navigating rush hour traffic and dodging hobos on the interstate, the announcement came over the radio that Michael Jackson was dead….”

3. Mark Knopfler – Going Home (Theme For The Local Hero)
from Local Hero soundtrack
So Long, Little Friend

“Like most people, I would prefer the days to unfold like the colorful pages of a Dr. Seuss book, populated by the playful antics of furry, non-existent creatures and lots of nonsensical rhyming….”

2. The Dream Academy – Life In A Northern Town
from The Dream Academy
Ah Hey Oh Ma Ma Ma…

“I’ve mentioned how lately I have discovered that I possess a previously unknown interest in the music of Bob Seger. And in the last few days, I’ve rediscovered a band which I had loved and forgotten (despite owning all three of their albums)…”

1. The Pogues – The Good, The Bad & The Ugly
from Straight To Hell soundtrack
Straight To Hell, Indeed

“For several years, I worked in a very large record store. One of the perks of the job (aside from cocooning oneself from reality) was free rentals from our video department…”

I Think I'd Have Been More Excited If I'd Known How Much Fun (for the most part) The '80s Would Be

I was twelve the first time that I stayed up to witness the arrival of the new year. It was the night the ’70s ended. It was hardly a hoopla-laden affair to me. In fact, everyone else in the house had gone to bed.

I had stayed up watching Purdue play Tennessee in the Bluebonnet Bowl.

(I had to research who had played and that Purdue won 26-22)

At some point, I had switched over to Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve and, for whatever reason, got drawn in to the march toward 1980. It wasn’t the music. I was still about a year from music truly mattering to me.

The only performer who I remember was Barry Manilow singing some song called It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve. Even with my relative amibivilance toward music, Manilow was so everywhere for such a stretch in the ’70s, I knew some of his songs.

I think when 1980 finally hit, I shrugged and shuffled off to bed. It still felt pretty much like 1979 to me.

Here’s a trio of songs by acts that, according to Mr. Pop Culture, performed on that Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve in 1979 (even if I don’t remember seeing them)…

Blondie – Heart Of Glass
from Parallel Lines

So, I wasn’t listening to music in 1979, but I did know Blondie’s Heart Of Glass. On the rare occasions when there was music in my life, Heart Of Glass seemed to be playing.

I loved it – the trancey, shimmering disco beat and the sexy indifference of Debbie Harry’s vocal. There had to be millions of twelve-year old boys who took notice of Debbie Harry in 1979.

I didn’t know it then, but Blondie would become one of my favorite bands of the time and one that I still adore. The group incorporated a lot of musical styles into their sound, sometimes disasterously, but often the failures were at least interesting.

Chic – Le Freak
from Black History in Music

I did a bit of research and Chic’s most recent hit as the ’70s closed was the engaging Good Times. whose bass part would prove to be quite influential (Queen’s Another One Bites The Dust being just one example).

I could have sworn I had a copy, but, if I do it’s missing.

I do have Le Freak, from the year before. Like Heart Of Glass, Le Freak was one of the handful of songs I probably knew by name. Of course, the “freak out!” was what hooked me and my friends in junior high.

Village People – Go West (12″ version)
from The Best Of The Village People

Village People were everywhere for a year or so. It seemed like they popped up a lot on television which made me familiar with Y.M.C.A., Macho Man, and In The Navy.

Yeah, Y.M.C.A. is good fun, but it’s worn out its welcome with me.

I think I first heard Go West as a Pet Shop Boys cover. Then, it was used in a commercial for butter – farmers on tractors singing it – while I was living in London. It’s catchy as hell and dramatic to the hilt.

Plan B, Lloyd And The Snowbus To Hell

The snowstorms hitting a wide swath of the country remind me of growing up and the presence of snow on the ground for long stretches of winter being a given.

The snow, though, also offered the possibility of the Snow Day which was a near-miraculous event, offering a glimmer of hope in the dead of winter. You slept in and only trudged out into the cold on your terms for your reasons.

As kids, it meant spending the day in someone’s den or basement playing Atari. Once we got our licenses, it meant the opportunity to do donuts in parking lots.

(there weren’t a lot of entertainment options in our hometown)

Of course, high school basketball had far greater influence than the primal forces of nature in the decision of whether school would be cancelled. The result was often the dreaded Plan B schedule – a tease if ever there was one – with school starting an hour or two later than usual in order to allow the games to go on.

Before me and my friends were old enough to drive, I’d usually get up early and catch a ride to school with my dad. If not, it was the bus. Plan B pared my options down to the latter.

We lived at the edge of our small town, where the terrain shifted from civilization – such as it was – to miles and miles of sparsely populated farmland. Our neighborhood was one of the first stops on our bus’ route. We would then spend nearly an hour rolling through the hinterlands on often narrow country backroads with hairpin curves, hills, and combinations of the two.

(the schoolboard obviously believed that the shortest distance between point A and point B ran through point Z)

Piloting the craft was Lloyd, a local farmer who had to be in his late ’60s. Always clad in denim overalls, a non-descript grey jacket and a hat from a nearby feed store, Lloyd’s enthusiasm for the job meant that some days he managed to stay awake for the entire trip.

(he might have been mute)

Adding a bus load of sixty or so screaming kids – disgruntled to have had a day off cruelly snatched away from them – to the mix of icy roads upped the degree of difficulty.

Throw in a couple of rickety bridges and the occasional white out and it made for a good time.

As the bus lurched along the route, often sliding to the precipice of wholesale disaster, we’d “oooh” and “ahhh.” Lloyd would cock his head ever so slightly, a gesture that assured us that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he was still alive.

From the back of the bus, we’d yell out advice to Lloyd as we traversed the barely passable roads. Our favorite unsolicited suggestion was a line delivered by Scatman Crothers in the movie Zapped which seemed to air daily on cable.

“Forget the horn. The bus is stalled.”

In truth, the trek was likely far more perilous than we realized especially as we headed down the forty-five degree incline of an icy “Suicide Hill” guided by a drowsy fellow with the hand-to-eye coordination of an arm chair.

(queue up The Sweet Hereafter on Netflix for theatrical proof of such perils)

Yet, somehow, we always arrived at our appointed destination.

In what may have been a feeble attempt to quell the natives, Lloyd usually had the radio tuned to Q102, a popular Top 40 station out of Cincinnati. According to Billboard’s chart for this week in 1982, here are some of the songs we might have heard playing above our din…

Duran Duran – Hungry Like The Wolf
from Rio

Since we didn’t have MTV in 1982, we didn’t see the videos for Planet Earth and/or Girls On Film, making Hungry Like The Wolf our first exposure to Duran Duran. Like the rest of America, we took to it, and, though some of them might have been goofy as hell – Union Of The Snake and The Wild Boys come immediately to mind – Duran Duran did put out some ridiculously catchy singles in their heyday.

Men At Work – Down Under
from Business As Usual

Men At Work had dominated the radio during the late summer and early autumn of ’82 with Who Can It Be Now? By Christmas, Down Under had become the Aussie act’s second smash.

I do know that my friends and I had seen both of those videos on Casey Kasem’s America’s Top 10 and been delighted by lead singer Colin Hay’s expressive antics and emotive nature. And, I do know that I received a copy of Business As Usual for Christmas that year which I wore out.

A Flock Of Seagulls – A Space Age Love Song
from A Flock Of Seagulls

I’ve expressed my childhood allegiance to Liverpool’s A Flock Of Seagulls and chronicled playing pinball with lead singer Mike Score. I still have great affection for their music from the early ’80s.

Though A Space Age Love Song didn’t get nearly as much airplay as I Ran on Q102 (or any of the other stations at my disposal), it was my favorite track from the band’s self-titled debut (which was also a gift that Christmas).

Toni Basil – Mickey
from Word Of Mouth

Mickey was massive during Christmas ’82. It was weird. I’d never heard the song until it popped up on American Top 40. Overnight, it seemed as though every Top 40 station in range added it and proceeded to play it dozens of times a day until we were all sick of it.

It seemed to take about three weeks.

It was a fun song that became grating quickly. I snagged the vinyl of Word Of Mouth last spring and noticed that several members of Devo played on it. It was quirky New Wave – fun, but nothing aside from Mickey standing out. I might have to give it another shot.

For Paloma…

…here’s to the future. Love, me…

U2 – City Of Blinding Lights
from How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb

Last Train Out Of Stubbville*

Planes, Trains And Autombiles seems to be one of those films that has become part of the fabric of the holidays. It gets a fare amount of play around Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Coming across it the other night – as well as seeing the Atlantic coast getting two feet of snow – makes me grateful that there will be no travel for Paloma and me this Christmas.

Though the sun of Florida might be pleasant and there could be postcard amount of snow in Indiana, our forecast is for temperatures in the 40s, overcast, maybe rain. But we won’t be having to make like Mad Max on the highway or risk our plane plummeting to the earth in a fiery heap.

I am about as enamored with air travel as Rain Man was. Its extremely dangerous. I don’t have the exact statistics at hand, but I think something like one out of two planes crash.

It’s not the actual concept of aerodynamics that is a concern to me. It’s more a trust thing I have with everyone from the most certainly bored and inattentive people that tighten the bolts on the plane to the most certainly bored and drunken pilots.

Paranoid digressions aside, travel by train is inspired.

(and, unfortunately, not often an option for most of us in the States)

During a brief time living in London, The Tube made me giddy as a schoolgirl and I was always up for a ride on the train. I’d sit or stand contented by the motion and familiar rhythm of stops, watching the antics of the passengers while listening to headphones.

It was like having the greatest ant farm in the world with a soundtrack I loved.

Peak hours could sometimes be less enjoyable, but I do remember certain stretches and routes would have far fewer passengers, especially the line I used most, nicknamed “The Misery Line.”

(I thought it was delightful)

I’ve taken trains through jungles in Malaysia and through farmlands in Ohio and there’s no denying that watching the countryside slowly and serenely roll by outside the window adds romance and intrigue to any landscape.

But, this Christmas, the view from the couch with Paloma and the animals and a few days of downtime appeals to me most.

*In case you’ve forgotten (or never seen Planes, Trains And Automobiles), Stubbville is where Steve Martin and John Candy must depart because “train don’t run out of Wichita… unlessin’ you’re a hog or a cattle.”

Beth Orton – Paris Train
from Daybreaker

I’ve made the trip from London to Paris by train a few times and its a fantastic journey from one major capitol to another in four hours, but it is a bit strange to consider that a portion of the trek is spent under the waters of the channel.

I’ve also spent time riding The Metro, the subway system of Paris, which, compared to The Tube in London isn’t quite as sterile and has a bit more grit and character.

As for Beth Orton’s Paris Train, it’s dreamy and hypnotic and it no more than ends than I’m inclined to hit repeat.

The Clash – Train In Vain (Stand By Me)
from London Calling

I mentioned The Clash’s Train In Vain in a post earlier this year, but I never tire of hearing it.

Cat Stevens – Peace Train
from Teaser And The Firecat

All debate regarding what Cat did say, didn’t say, or actually meant to say regarding Salman Rushdie aside, although I was pretty young, I do vividly remember hearing songs like Morning Has Broken and Wild World on the radio as a tyke.

And, maybe most of all, I remember the ethereal Peace Train.

Megadeth – Train Of Consequences
from Youthanasia

Paloma and I saw Megadeth many years ago. In fact, I believe it was on the tour for Youthanasia. Fortunately, the tickets were comps as the venue was an ancient arena and the sound was dreadful.

However, Train Of Consequences is a monster. It sounds like a train, barrelling down the tracks full throttle with gear-grinding guitar and even a madcap bit of harmonica.

Yes, Mr. Capra, You Are Correct

(written last Saturday, remixed from last year)

Most everyone with a passing interest in Christmas, movies, and/or Christmas movies knows the tale of It’s A Wonderful Life – how it slid into relative obscurity only to become a beloved classic in the ‘70s after its copyright lapsed and the film was shown repeatedly during the holidays.

There are no memories for me of seeing the movie as a child in the ‘70s. Actually, I didn’t see it until a good decade or more later when I was in my early twenties. I was renting some movies from the video store next to the record store where I worked. I had two days off, was broke, and wanted to veg. There was It’s A Wonderful Life. I shrugged and figured I was due.

It was the middle of July.

An annual viewing, seasonally adjusted, is now a bit of a tradition. So, I’m stretched out on the couch and watching as the plans of Jimmy Stewart get laid to waste one by one – no travel, no college, no life in the dirty city.

(and, as I think about it, I’ve been fortunate to do all of those things he’d set out to do)

Paloma trudged through half an hour of the movie. She was up very early this morning and she finds the flick to be depressing.

(it is a mostly grim slog to Jimmy Stewart’s epiphany)

Tonight is one of the coldest of the season so far, but the central heat is keeping the chill of the outside world at bay. Its steady hum is soothing.

The only light, aside from the television, is the glow of several strings of white Christmas bulbs. My eyes kept catching snatches of items about the living room in the firefly flickers from the black and white images on the screen.

Bob Marley is smiling from some odd print that has him juxtaposed against stars and stripes. Godzilla battles the Smog Monster on a framed Japanese poster, a gift from Paloma.

There’s some of Paloma’s artwork on the wall, a cattle skull painted metallic silver, a British Union Jack and a Singaporean flag, as well as nearly a thousand albums filed against another wall.

One small, black kitten, Ravi, is asleep on a large chair. Another, Ju Ju, sits on the back of the couch staring out the window behind me. Both were abandoned by a neighbor and neither was with us last Christmas.

Coltrane is missed.

Pizza and Sam are most certainly curled up with Paloma, sleeping in the next room.

It’s peaceful, it’s comforting, and it is quite wonderful.

Here are some songs of the season that made annual appearances on most of the radio stations I was listening to in the early ’80s…

Band Aid – Do They Know It’s Christmas

Band Aid’s charity single from 1984 has been pretty maligned and, granted, it might not be a stellar musical effort, but, if you were a young music fan at the time, it had a certain charm that it likely retains to this day. It featured some of the superstar acts of the early MTV era and it was one of the first musical events I had lived through.

And, if you were a kid at the time, it very well was one of the first times you realized that as big as the world might be, it was one world. And, maybe it made you stop and think that there are a lot of people in the world who might not have the simplest things which we take for granted, not just at Christmas, but each and every day.

At least it did for me.

Bryan Adams – Christmas Time

It must have been sometime in the mid-’80s when Bryan Adams’ Christmas Time became a radio staple. Like the string of hits he had had at the time, the song isn’t rocket science and Adams hardly reinvents fire, but the sentiment is true and it’s an engaging track.

Billy Squier – Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You

In the Midwest in the ’80s, Billy Squier was a rock god. The rock stations to which I was listening played not only the hits like The Stroke, Everbody Wants You, and In The Dark, but practically every track from the albums Don’t Say No and Emotions In Motion.

So, the rollicking Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You was in heavy rotation each December.

The Waitresses – Christmas Wrapping
from I Could Rule The World If I Could Only Get The Parts

The Waitresses only released one full-length album and an EP of their quirky, New Wave rock. But, despite their scant output, the group notched two, enduring classics – the sassy I Know What Boys Like and their modern holiday classic Christmas Wrapping.

I’m sure that I first heard the song on 97X during Christmas ’83 as I was discovering modern rock and it was immediately memorable.

Years later, I’d much better relate to the story within the song, and, somehow, despite how many times I’ve heard it, the ending is still a surprise that makes me smile.