Here’s a NSFW-ish but very funny song that does away with all those tedious metaphors and slang and just says what every other pop song is trying to say:
And it’s catchy, too! I could make some kind of over-intellectualized case for how this is a snapshot of the state of American pop culture at the end of the first decade of the 21st Century, but really, all that matters is that it’s catchy, right?
I wasn’t planning on writing anything on the anniversary of John Lennon’s death. I figured there would be plenty of other voices on the InterWebs this week paying tribute and remembering, and anyway I honestly didn’t think I had much to say about the subject because, as crappy as this is going to sound, John Lennon just doesn’t mean that much to me.
Please don’t start sharpening your pitchforks and lighting up the torches. I really don’t mean to be offensive or insensitive. John’s murder was a horrific act that hurt thousands, if not millions, of people, and there’s no question that he was a talented man who wrote some genuinely great and immensely popular songs. But when it comes right down to it, I respect the music of John Lennon and The Beatles far more than I actually enjoy it. It’s been overexposed to such a huge degree that the only emotion I experience when I hear most of it is weariness. I don’t really dislike The Beatles. I’m just tired of hearing them every time I turn on the radio, not to mention hearing about how damn great they were.
However, at some point while I was reading all those other blog posts about what happened 30 years ago, I had a sort of epiphany. I remembered something related to John Lennon that does mean a great deal to me, something he did not create directly but which depends on his best-known solo recording, “Imagine,” to achieve its impact. I’m talking about — and this may sound a little strange — one of my favorite episodes of the old TV series WKRP in Cincinnati.
Black Friday, the day on which I must finally accept the inevitability of the Holiday Season, and stop muttering under my breath every time I hear a Christmas song on the radio. It’s here now, so I may as well grit my teeth, hold on tight, and ride this bronco through to the end.
In the spirit of sucking it up and doing what you can to get by, here’s a silly little something I threw together over at JibJab. Some of you may have already seen this on Facebook, but I think there’s enough diversity in my audiences here and there that I’m going to risk repeating myself, because this one really amuses me. The music is provided by the awesome mash-up band Rock Sugar, and in a nice bit of synchronicity, the photo of my face that I used was taken at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last month… enjoy!!
Via the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame’s Facebook feed, I’ve been reminded that today is the 19th anniversary of the death of Freddie Mercury, due to complications relating to HIV/AIDS.
It occurred to me this morning that Van Halen’s immortal hit song “Jump” — which my Loyal Readers of a certain age will recall was released in 1984 — is now as old as Chuck Berry’s immortal “Johnny B. Goode” was the year “Jump” itself came out.
I don’t know about you, but I’m having a hard time with that little factoid. How the hell have we all managed to live so long? I’m going to go lay down and ponder that in a minute, but first…
I imagine “daunting” must be a completely inadequate word for what actors experience when they take on roles that were made iconic by larger-than-life personalities like Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher. However, the cast of a local production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, currently showing at the Midvale Main Street Theater, show little sign of having a legendary Hollywood classic looming over them as they run through the story of a stubbornly individualistic man struggling against the petty institutional authority that wants to control him.
The Girlfriend and I were in the front row tonight to support our friend Geoff Richards, who has the part of Cheswick, one of the mental patients whose outlook is changed by the arrival of a rabble-rouser named McMurphy. Playing McMurphy, lead actor Garrick Dean does occasionally channel Nicholson’s distinctive delivery, but honestly, I don’t see how anyone couldn’t in this particular role, and he never allows himself to fully lapse into a distracting impersonation. Lead actress Eve Speer is hissibly evil as Nurse Ratched, one of the all-time great villains of screen and literature, while Rog Benally, a citizen of the Navajo Nation, is heart-breakingly effective as Chief Bromden. There were a few opening-night bumps — the gentleman playing Dr. Spivey seemed to be having trouble recalling his lines and some recorded audio in one scene was a little too quiet and possibly mis-timed — but overall, this was a thoroughly entertaining evening with a story that means a lot to me personally, and which I’ve not revisited in far too long. As Anne said, it’s a surprising mixture of grim and uplifting. Hey, that’s how they did it in the ’70s, babe!
Oh, as for the most important thing, Geoff did a fine job — he’s really improving with each new role, and I’m not just saying that. If I can say this without sounding too awkwardly sentimental, it’s been exciting to watch his progress over the past couple of years as he’s gone from a total neophyte just beginning to investigate a new interest to a seasoned thespian with several plays under his belt.
Cuckoo’s Nest has a fairly short run, only five more nights — tomorrow and Saturday, and then the 18th, 19th, and 20th next weekend — so if any of my local readers are interested at all, I advise them not to hesitate. You can order tickets online and save a couple bucks, or get them at the door. The venue is the former Comedy Circuit on Midvale’s historic Main Street, if that helps at all. Man, I could tell a few stories about that place as well as its eccentric owner Spin, who just happens to be my neighbor these days…
I spotted this video in a couple places yesterday and thought it was worth passing along. The performer is supposedly a homeless, unemployed man, but some people are voicing suspicion; they’re saying the camerawork is a little too professional and the whole thing a bit too polished. One commenter on YouTube suggested that maybe this is a viral created by some ad agency somewhere to bring attention to the cause. That seems reasonable to me, but I really have no idea. Whether this dude is an actor or not, he is an impressive puppeteer, and I found the clip surprisingly poignant. I suspect Jim Henson would be pleased, at least.
Without further ado, I give you “Under Pressure,” the great classic-rock song by Queen and David Bowie, lip-synched by Kermit the Frog and his identical twin:
A while back, I received an email from a guy who said he was compiling information on Rick Springfield’s past concert performances for a couple of fan sites he was working on. He’d found my blog while Googling the 1981 Working Class Dog tour — Loyal Readers will recall that Rick’s stop here in Salt Lake City during that tour was my first concert — and he wanted to ask me for some details about the experience. We ended up having quite a nice conversation, and, being a helpful little pack rat who’s held on to the ticket stubs from every concert I’ve ever been to, I was able to put together a list for this guy of all the Rick shows I’ve attended. In case anyone out there is curious, I’ve seen him a grand total of eight times, seven of which occurred in the last decade, counting EFX Alive, the Las Vegas stage show he did for a while. The Girlfriend and I saw him twice last year alone. Which I suppose makes up somewhat for not getting to see him this year. He was scheduled for a November appearance in West Wendover, the Nevada border town where Salt Lakers go to gamble and buy cheap hooch in convenient gallon-sized jugs, but that performance was canceled a couple months ago, and he hasn’t come near enough to Utah on any other of his other stops to tempt me. I’m fanboy enough to cross a state border for Rick, but I draw the line at entire states.
I believe a new Wendover date has been scheduled for next spring, but in the meantime, the Internet has provided an alternative fix: you can go here and listen to his entire set from the recent Sweden Rock Festival, nearly a full hour of music that includes many of the old favorites, as well as a couple tracks from his latest album, an abbreviated but kick-ass take on Eric Clapton’s “Crossroads,” and even a little bit of The Beatles’ “She’s So Heavy.” The show ends with one of my personal favorites, a flat-out, pedal-to-the-metal, head-banging rocker called “Kristina.” I’ve seen Rick on both good nights and not-so-good nights, so trust me when I say this performance is well worth your time. Especially if all you know of him is “Jessie’s Girl,” as this is a good overview of where he’s been musically over the past 30 years. Don’t dawdle, though — I don’t know how long this is going to be available. You’ll have to sit through about a minute of Swedish DJ patter right at the beginning, but I thought that was kind of interesting, myself. If you don’t know the song titles by heart the way I do, you can find a set list under the little hyperlink near the top of the page that reads Musiken i programmet. To listen to the concert, look for the music player at the bottom of the page…
I’ve seen this meme floating around Facebook the past couple days and was thinking I’d give it a whirl anyhow, but this morning I got tagged by a friend, so no more procrastinating for me.
The idea is to come up with “15 albums you’ve heard that will always stick with you,” whatever that means. (I interpret it to mean the ones you’ve played so many times you’ve got them memorized, or they represent some kind of emotional milestone for you, or you have a specific memory or anecdote associated with them.) You’re supposed to list the first 15 titles you come up with in a maximum of 15 minutes. Like most people, I imagine, I thought of way more than just 15 titles in far less than the allotted time. I’m listing them all below the fold, along with the usual commentary.
For any Loyal Readers who may also be Facebook friends, please note that I’ve tinkered with the list a bit since I posted it over there, and my commentaries are much more detailed here. If that affects your interest levels in any way…
Okay, pop culture, I get it. You have finally beaten me. Your insatiable entertainment juggernaut held me in its warm embrace for a brief, glorious moment of my youth, but then predictably, inevitably, churned onward toward newer and flashier things, leaving me stranded on the side of a one-way road that’s rapidly diminishing into the rear-view. So I guess it’s time for me to surrender to the obvious and admit that my day is past, my sensibilities are out of touch, and I am no longer even remotely cool.
At least that’s how I felt about ten minutes into the movie Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.
First, though, a bit of backstory to explain how I came to be watching a film that hadn’t previously drawn so much as one iota of my interest…