Via Cheno, here’s a highly entertaining music video featuring Christopher Walken dancing to Fatboy Slim’s “Weapon of Choice.” Sure, you’ve probably seen it before, but watch it again. It’ll make you smile:

You know, it’s really a shame that Walken is so often typecast as a violent loon, or otherwise freaky characters, because he really is wonderfully charismatic and funny when he’s given a chance to be. And, as this clip demonstrates, he can dance. If someone were to attempt to revive the old-fashioned Fred Astaire-style song-and-dance picture, I can totally see him starring…

As long as we’re talking music, here’s an interesting trivia note: the compact disc was introduced 25 years ago today. There’s a pretty detailed article about its development here… although I notice it failed to mention that the preliminary work in converting analog music to a digital file was done by a grad student at my very own alma mater, the University of Utah. Granted, the actual physical disc technology was developed later, by other people, but the ground work for the digital music revolution was done right here in my back yard.

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So, if you weren’t following along in the comments, the correct answer to yesterday’s “pop quiz” — i.e., what do the groups ZZ Top, The Pretenders, and The Stray Cats have in common? — was provided by our esteemed webmaster Jack: those three bands all performed Wednesday night at West Valley City’s Usana Amphitheater, and The Girlfriend and I were there for what seems to be turning into an annual tradition for us, namely, seeing one multiple-act, ’80s-nostalgia outdoor concert per year. (Last year’s entry in this category was Journey and Def Leppard, if you’ll recall.)

I was pretty enthusiastic for this show, although it did strike me as a really strange line-up. When I first heard about it, the only thing I could think of that these bands had in common was that they all had hit songs in the year 1983. (That would be the three tunes whose videos I posted yesterday: “(She’s) Sexy + 17” by The Stray Cats, “Back on the Chain Gang” by The Pretenders, and “Gimme All Your Lovin'” by ZZ Top.) The more I pondered it, though, the more I realized that it was actually brilliant programming; there was something for everyone! You had the good-time retro rockabilly of The Cats for the neo-swing hipster crowd; the punk-influenced “modern” sound of The Pretenders for the aging New Wavers-turned-suburbanites (easy to spot in their madras shorts and polo shirts); and down-and-dirty, bluesy Tex-Mex rock and roll of ZZ for the former (and current) mulletheads. Guess which category I fall into?

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Before we begin, yes, that title up there is indeed a play on words, a pun, as it were. Groan if you feel the need. I’ll wait…
Finished with that? Good, now let’s begin. Tell me — if you can — what do the following three items have in common?

I’ll provide the answer sometime tomorrow, after I’ve gotten some sleep…

That obnoxious buzzing sound you hear? It’s gotta be Satan’s snowblower, because David Lee Roth is rejoining Van Halen for a concert tour.

(Naturally, the closest this tour is coming to my stupid little backwater is Glendale, Arizona. Sigh.)

The cynic in me gives Eddie and Diamond Dave maybe three performances before they’re at each other’s throats again and the whole enterprise is disintegrating under the weight of their respective egos. The romantic in me hopes that they somehow manage to hold it together, make a lot of money, and realize they could make even more money by adding additional performances to the roster… like, say, one in Salt Lake City. Hey, it’s not so crazy… The Police Reunion Tour is still underway, isn’t it? Of course, they passed over my hometown, too, the bastards…

Van Halen was never my favorite band, but they were pretty ubiquitous during my formative years (“Jump,” “Panama,” and “I’ll Wait” are indelible tracks on the soundtrack of my life, and “Dance the Night Away” is simply a perfect little summertime parfait), and I just think it would be way cool to see Dave and Eddie on stage together, as they should be. Nothing against Sammy Hagar, whose stint with the band also generated a lot of good music, but David Lee, as big an ass as he appears to be, is the one true lead singer of this particular group, as far as I’m concerned. I won’t travel to catch this tour, but if by some miracle they do add a Utah date, man, I’m so there…

Oh, boy… remember what I said earlier about disgust, embarassment, and lingering regrets? What combination of those emotions do you suppose these guys are feeling now that their 20-year-old homemade music video for a goofy novelty song has hit the InterWebs?

Incidentally, the purveyors of “Pac-Man Fever,” Buckner and Garcia, have a web site. I’m shocked to discover that you can still get their 1982 album of video-game-themed ditties; download it from the usual sources or order the CD here. (I’d recommend you order the tangible artifact, personally; I’ve dealt with CD Baby before, and it’s a great company, an indie record shop in Oregon that’ll send you some of the most deliciously eccentric e-mail you’ve ever read…)

(My thanks to Scalzi for bringing this to the world’s attention.)

Damn it! I just heard that the Weekly World News — that most outrageous of supermarket tabloids, the one which brings us vital updates on the impending end of the world as well as the latest adventures of Bat Boy — is ceasing publication in only a few short weeks.

The WWN is utterly ridiculous, of course — is there anyone, even in the farthest reaches of the Ozarks, who actually believes anything they read in its pages? — but it’s always brought me some much-needed amusement as I stood in line at the checkout stand with the Muzak boring into my skull and my eyeballs burning from the flourescent overheads. I’m going to miss seeing which politicians are meeting with the aliens this month…

One note of interest: the article I linked to above says that WWN “…was also known as a reliable source of paychecks for science fiction and fantasy writers looking to make a few extra bucks.” I always wondered where that stuff came from.

Hm. This is curious… as John Scalzi reminds us, Saturday was the 40th anniversary of the U.S. release of The Beatles’ album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

This was also the day when I decided to renounce Beatledom.

You just know there’s got to be some kind of grand karmic consequences for something like that. It’s like spitting in a church or something…

I realized something on Saturday afternoon as I was waxing my car and listening to the radio: “I Am the Walrus” is quite possibly the most aggravating song ever recorded. Yes, even more so than Britney Spears’ “Toxic.” The nonsensical, deliberately inscrutable lyrics, delivered by John Lennon in a voice that is simultaneously high-pitched, yet whiskey-raspy (two qualities which, combined, suggest to me the way Mickey Mouse might sound if he’d just smoked several bowls of particularly harsh ganja), and set to a plodding, mechanical beat… well, let’s just say that the overall effect of the song is to set my teeth on a razor-thin edge.

In fact, when I’m really honest with myself, I have to admit that I really don’t like The Beatles that much at all. Oh, I can’t deny that they were historically significant, or that they influenced countless bands that followed, or that they did a handful of songs that only a completely joyless churl could criticize — “Yesterday,” “Norweigian Wood,” and “Here Comes the Sun” are genuinely wonderful — but, generally speaking, they just don’t do much for me. I can’t recall the last time I landed on one of their songs on the radio and happily stayed there without surfing on in search of something I preferred.

And as long as I’m revealing the depths of my philistinism, what the heck is the big deal about U2? Yeah, “Where the Streets Have No Name” is a great song, but why do so many people seem to think listening to this band is akin to communing with Buddha himself? I just don’t get it…