Beware! Earworm ahead

At least, the above and foregoing sign will trigger an earworm if you are of a certain age.

And, if not, you can 'tuck in your hair up under your hat' and ask an elder why this is funny.

If the elder of whom you inquire has access to the song, and offers to play it for you, run -- do not walk -- away quickly.

You have been warned.

Curmudgeon struggles to master online music player

Over the last few days here at the Undisclosed Location I've been fiddling with Pandora, the online 'radio' station that allows users to pick what they want to hear. More or less. (I'll come back to that part.)

Now I realize that all the cool kids have played with Pandora and probably moved on to other, more hip and trendy, streaming services. Sometimes I feel like I'm becoming like the old ladies in the (very funny) Esurance commercials....



But, whatever. I haven't felt the need to try any of the online services because I have such a variety of music available to me on my iPod. Back in the days when I had disposable income, I disposed of quite a bit of it in record stores.

When vinyl was replaced by CDs, I dutifully bought CDs of many of the albums I'd cherished on LP. (Vinyl is hip again, by the way. One of my nieces posted a picture of her brand new turntable and her very first vinyl LP purchase on Facebook the other day.)

Of course, I couldn't replace everything. Some things weren't available on CD and, while I switched in mid-series from vinyl to CD on one Time-Life collection, that left a lot of stuff available to me only on vinyl. And as time went on I no longer had disposable income... so my collection became pretty static.

Even with 5,000 non-Christmas songs, repeats start to grate after awhile.

So while I struggled to catch up with my paperwork here (I've just finished another big project which is why posting has been so sporadic) I thought I'd try and experiment with this new-fangled Pandora thing.

My review is mixed. While the music library available to Pandora is extensive, it doesn't contain everything, and it offers "suggestions," not searches. I couldn't search for One Hit Wonders of the 60s, for example. I was craving that shock of recognition -- to hear something I hadn't heard since 1974 on WLS or WCFL -- and, after a week of fiddling, I never really found it.

There's also a lot of dreck on Pandora. Live cuts and alternate takes are generally not as good, and certainly not as familiar, as the definitive recorded performances.

I'm not sophisticated enough to speak about the jazz channels. I know what I like and that's enough for me. So I won't offer criticisms of my samplings of 'channels' in that area.

But I do presume to know a little about popular music in the 60s and 70s. I looked at the Pandora 70s channel... and it was snow white. Growing up in Chicago, our radio stations always played Motown records and Philly soul sounds and our own Chi-Lites; Earth, Wind and Fire; and Curtis Mayfield right along with the Stones, Eagles, or Creedence Clearwater. Listening to the mix as suggested would be like listening to a stereo with one speaker blown: Painfully incomplete.

I had decided to try Pandora after listening to it in the chair at the periodontist's office. Somebody there had set up a Crosby, Stills, Nash and/or Young channel and while it included various permutations of those four musicians, individually and in various combinations, it also included songs by artists that were arguably similar. I thought that was interesting.

So I tried my own hand at this later in the week. I set up a Steely Dan channel, but the station veered off course with Hall and Oates and Seals and Crofts and whatever. I tried to rescue it by pressing the 'add variety' button -- I added Traffic to the mix because I wanted to stress the jazzy side of Steely Dan. After several cuts from Cream and Blind Faith (Steve Winwood being connected to Eric Clapton, get it?), I started getting Beatles records.

I begin to think that the only way I'll get Steely Dan records is to ask for Beatles cuts.

But I'm probably just doing it wrong. I don't understand the algorithm. And I get a little bit closer to becoming the old lady smacking hard candy with a hammer on her kitchen table, thinking she's playing "Candy Crush"....

On the passing of Larry Lujack

The passing of a radio DJ is seldom national news, and I was thinking that Larry Lujack's death yesterday from cancer at 73 probably wouldn't be.

But it is. No less than überblogger Ken Levine mourns the passage of the one, the only Superjock this morning.

I picked up my youngest son from college yesterday -- before the news of Lujack's death -- and somehow we got to talking about the passage of time. I think it was a sign advertising places in the high school class of 2018 (next fall's freshmen, believe it or not) that got Youngest Son going. "Can you believe it?" he asked. "2018 already?"

This coming year, I told him, 2014, marks 40 years since I graduated high school. "How do you think I feel?" I asked.

As bad as I felt at that moment, I felt much worse when Robert Feder broke the news about ol' Uncle Lar.

Uncle Lar was still Suprejock -- WCFL, the Voice of Labor, recast itself as "SuperCFL" in honor of their most valuable property -- when I was in high school. Superjock on WCFL and Bob Sirott on WLS were, if I recall correctly, the voices of afternoon drive 40 years ago and every new driver knew how to push the buttons on the AM radio to switch between 890 and 1000 without taking their eyes off the road. Button pushing might be prompted by a bad song -- there were some truly awful songs in heavy rotation on both stations 40 years ago -- or by "zit cream" commercials. But the "bits" between the songs were the really good stuff.

Sirott was the enfant terrible, the challenger. Lujack was the grizzled, bitter, burned-out veteran. His deep, deliberate, laconic delivery was unique, and seemingly entirely inappropriate to rock 'n' roll (Levine explains it better in his piece than I can but, then, he's a former DJ as well as a better writer). But whatever Lujack was doing, it worked for him.

A couple of years after I graduated high school, WCFL changed formats, going from Top 40 to elevator music. The station didn't fire Lujack, however, and he wouldn't quit. Here is how he announced the format switch.



Lujack would go back to WLS later -- his "Animal Stories" with "Little Snot-Nosed Tommy" Edwards are being remembered a lot this morning. I tuned in for them, too, even after I'd otherwise grown out of the Top 40 format.

All too soon, however, in 1987, Lujack retired, moving out west eventually. Except for a six month stint on FM and a reunion with Edwards that lasted a few years on what wasn't much more than a 10-watt AM station in the early 2000s, Lujack stayed retired. But he stayed with us, too.

Nine or 10 years ago, on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of our parish, I was asked to do the voiceover for the commemorative video. The parish hired a real filmmaker and everything -- her brother has directed several popular Disney features -- and she booked some studio time for me to come in and read the script.

Well.

This was the first time I'd been in a real studio, with a professional microphone and headphones and all the knobs and dials I was told not to touch on pain of death. But when we were doing sound checks, I did my best Larry Lujack imitation. It was, presumably, an awful imitation. But imitation, even awful imitation, is the most sincere form of flattery.

R.I.P. Mr. Lujack. I hope today you have a whole lot more of Jesus... and all the rock 'n' roll you may want.

(Chicagoans will catch the reference; the rest of you... well....)

In this case, "overnight success" took only 40 years

Photo from Chicago Daily Law Bulletin (subscription required)

So I've been blogging my brains out for 7½ years and haven't gotten so much as a sniff from a book publisher.

So what?

That's nothing -- an eyeblink, really, compared to the experience of Greg Herriges and Rick Vittenson.

Like a lot of Baby Boomers, Herriges and Vittenson formed a band. In fact, according to Jerry Crimmins' story for the March 21 Chicago Daily Law Bulletin (subscription required), they formed a band twice, in 1964, when they were 14 (after seeing the Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show), and then again in 1972, when they were 22. The second time around, the north suburban duo, now billing themselves as "Athanor," recorded a few songs in Herriges' home studio.

You can't fake that '70s "look"

They got a few gigs, had some publicity stills shot, even talked a couple of suburban stations into playing their songs -- they released three singles -- but, when they couldn't get that Big Break, they folded the band and went back to school. Herriges became an English professor (and published novelist) and Vittenson went to law school, eventually working 14 years for the American Bar Association.

Vittenson kept his hand in the arts, performing in and contributing lyrics to the Chicago Bar Association's annual "Christmas Spirits" reviews and, as noted by ABA Journal Law News Now writer Debra Cassens Weiss in this March 18 post, playing with a band called "Malpractice," a group that included a number of ABA Journal staffers, at office parties. At one such event, according to Weiss, a colleague kidded Vittenson by saying he was a lawyer masquerading as a rock star. But Vittenson said, "No you’ve got it entirely opposite, I’m a rock star pretending to be a lawyer."

Still... we all have the corpses of youthful dreams buried in us somewhere.

But the shared dream of Messrs. Vittenson and Herringes wasn't completely dead -- it was just long dormant.

Their dream came back to life in 2010, around the time Vittenson retired. An excerpt from Crimmins's Law Bulletin article:

Vittenson said "Greg got an e-mail from a fellow in France (in 2011) who said that he loved the Athanor song 'Graveyard.' He found it on a British compilation CD, a CD of different people's songs.

"Greg's reaction was, 'What compilation?'"

Among other bands on the compilation album were The Chartbusters, who had a hit in 1964, and The Rattles, who had a hit in 1970.

"Graveyard" was a 45 rpm demo that Athanor recorded in 1973 and sent to big labels to try to get a record contract.

"Somehow, one of them in pretty good condition must have made its way to this record company in England," Herriges said. Four decades later, "they snatched one of our songs" without asking.

That company has disappeared, Herriges said.

Yet "Somewhere There Is Music," a music blog out of France, cited "Graveyard" as the best song of 2011.

"The record companies came knocking," Vittenson said. "People in Europe were talking about Athanor."

And, now, just 40 years later than planned, Athanor is an overnight sensation in Europe. The duo found all their old tapes and picked out the best, compiling enough for an album, entitled (appropriately enough) "Flashback," released on vinyl by a Spanish label, Guerssen Records, earlier this month. It will be released in America on April 2. A CD release is also planned.

So what's next for the old/new group? A tour? Quoting Crimmins again:

"We're going to do one record release party … and that will be it," Vittenson said. "Unless somebody invites us to play in Japan."

But Herriges said the band is starting to rehearse.

You know, just in case....

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To hear Athanor for yourself, click on the link to the ABA Journal Law News Now post; there's a YouTube video embedded.

Frivolous Friday: This would be cute even if it weren't true

I saw this at a site called Cheezburger and I immediately snagged the image with the intent of posting it here... but then it occurred to me... did Sir Paul really say this? (In this one small corner of the Internet, we are actually concerned with accuracy. Most of the time, anyway.)

Thanks to the miracle of Lexis/Nexis, I could check the alleged source -- and confirm that, indeed, Macca really did tell interviewer Dave Itzkoff, "My grandkids always beat me at Rock Band. And I say, Listen, you may beat me at Rock Band, but I made the original records, so shut up." (The interview, which was really about McCartney's recent Grammy Award, appeared in the Saturday, February 16, 2013 edition of the New York Times -- genuflection optional.)

Before you ask, Mr. Itzkoff apparently did not ask the obvious follow-up question, namely, what did your grandkids say to that?

Marvin Hamlisch dead; Kanye West to blame?

Marvin Hamlisch wrote lots of memorable music for stage and screen, including the Tony and Pulitzer Award winning musical "A Chorus Line," the Oscar winning score for The Sting (Hamlisch's adaptation of Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer" became a Top 10 hit) -- and he also had a hand in writing Barbra Streisand's "The Way We Were."

Well, they can't all be winners.

But Hamlisch also wrote Lesley Gore's "Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows," and that makes up for Streisand, in my book.

Anyway, the sad news from Tinseltown is that Marvin Hamlisch passed away Monday at the age of 68.

Meanwhile, in other entertainment news, Kanye West has revealed that his latest magnum opus, "The Perfect Bitch," is really a song about Kim Kardashian -- and this while Kanye and Kim are still (as the gossip columns used to say) a coosome twosome.

This disclosure raises some interesting questions:

If romance is not yet officially dead, can we at least say it's in a coma?

Remember when you couldn't say words like that unless you made it abundantly clear that you were talking about raising dogs (and maybe not even then)?

What might Mr. West call Ms. Kardashian when (as is inevitable) trouble develops in Paradise?

Meanwhile, the cause of death Mr. Hamlisch's death has not yet been revealed. But I can't help but think there's some linkage here.

A song for Friday: Pettin' and Pokin'

The great Louis Jordan (backed by his Tympany 5). Here's the words if you want to sing along. Try to keep up:

Now this is the story of Jack & Jill, and I don't mean the couple who went up the hill. I just mean a couple of lovers that live next door, and they always battling & I'm just contriving to keep score.

They're always pettin' & pokin' & jabbin' & joking & cooin' & crackin' and wooin' & wackin.'
They keep necking & knocking, singing & socking, squawking & squeezing & burning & freezing.

Why he holds her hands as long as he's able, but when he lets go she bops him with a table.
They start right in pattin' & pinchin' & clouting & clinching. They're enjoying themselves, havin' a good time.

Now Reverend Green thought that he'd call one day on these nicely newlyweds across the way, but just as the pastor knocked on the door, a straight right connected -- "Mop," he hit the floor.

They was pettin' & pokin' and banging & bopping & cooing & kissing & hitting & missing.
They kept on grooving & grieving & loving & leaving, kickin' & cacklin' & ticklin' & tacklin'.

Now one night a neighbor tried some intervention, but one short jab knocked out his good intention.

They started right in stewing & stabbing & jiving & jabbing. Having a good time.

Now once a lion escaped from a circus train. He strayed in Jack's & Jill's domain. Just then they got in a towerin' rage. Lion took one look & jumped back in to his cage.

They started swatting & swinging & plotting & playing, stomping & stabbing & grooving & grasping they kept dancing & ducking, tripping & trucking, potting & pleading & banging & bleeding.

Her mother said, "I'll go right in there and fetch her," but mom came out riding on a stretcher.

They started right in, hitting & holding, fainting & folding. They was enjoying themselves. Having a good time.

Now once a reporter called on the wife just to gather some data on her hectic life. She told him she'd never found time for books, she always busy duckin' left hooks.

They were always swatting & swinging & socking & singing & cutting & cuddling & messing & muddling. They kept on fondlin' & fussin' & kissin' & cussin' & tappin' & teasin' & swattin' & squeezin'.

Once a voice said "Stop! I'm the law." But all he stopped was a hay-maker to the jaw.

They started in jiving & jumping & throbbing & thumping. They was enjoying themselves. You see, they were in love. Ain't married life wonderful? Hey will somebody call Dr. Kildare? Is Dr. Christian in the house? Huh?

"Dustin" storyline prompts soul searching -- or at least iPod searching

One of my new favorite comic strips these days is "Dustin," by Steve Kelley & Jeff Parker. The title character is a 23-year old slacker kid who has finished college but hasn't found full-time employment or moved out of his parents' house.

I don't have one of those. So far. Thank God.

But I identify with Mr. Ed Kudlik, Dustin's father, a paunchy, balding, middle-aged lawyer. (Gosh... why would I find anything in common with someone like that?)

Last week's strips focused on the loss of Ed's iPod -- on which Dustin had thoughtfully inscribed his father's name and phone number so it could be returned if lost. Extortion ensues. I've included four from the set, which culminated on Sunday, to give you the gist of the storyline. (You can find all of these, for the time being, on the Chicago Tribune Comics Kingdom site.)





After this little story, I identify with Ed more than ever now: There's Barry Manilow on my iPod, too. And some Paul Anka, too (though not "Having My Baby"). There's Air Supply, and Bread and Meat Loaf and the Bee-Gees on my iPod as well.

In Sunday's strip, Mr. Kudlik tries to persuade the blackmailer that the threat of exposure does not frighten him. "Your threat [is] to disclose that I enjoy a healthy variety of popular music?" he asks. The blackmailer replies, "My mistake, Mr. Kudlik. I'm sure lots of professional, middle-aged men have six Bee Gees hits on their iPods."

Um.

I have 11 on mine. I just counted. Including the insufferable "New York Mining Disaster 1941." Oh sure, you don't remember the title. But if I start falsetto singing, "In the event of something happening to me/ There is something I would like you all to see...," years of therapy might come undone and, worse, that dumb song would be stuck in your head for a week. Even though you hated, hated, hated it when it was in the Top 40.

You give me a hard time here and I'll cue up Jim Stafford's "I Don't Like Spiders and Snakes."

I like having that stuff around, really, just in case I ever get tempted to think that popular music "then" was uniformly great.

I really do like a variety of music. Stevie Wonder just gave way -- just now -- to Artie Shaw on my iPod. Earth, Wind & Fire and Blood, Sweat & Tears and Tony Bennett. Louis Jordan -- the King of the Jukebox -- still reigns on my iPod, in heavy rotation. (When I was little, my father told me "Is You Is Or Is You Ain't My Baby" was the national anthem of the South Side of Chicago. I believed him.)

I've never traveled much. But when I'd go out of state for a deposition, one of the first things I'd do would be to look for the Oldies station on the rental car radio. I would generally be disappointed. I mean, I'm OK listening to Kansas, the Cars, Elton John or the Doobie Brothers for the thousandth time -- but there'd never be anything by the Temptations or Smokey Robinson or Lou Rawls. In Chicago we had both on our radio stations (WCFL and WLS). Was it really that different elsewhere?

Birds do it, bees do it...

Bizaro comic obtained from the Chicago Tribune
website -- even though I read this one (in print, no less)
in the Chicago Sun-Times.

How old must one be to get this one?

I shudder to think. (Don't they teach our kids anything these days?)

But I was humming the tune as soon as I saw it.

Singing along with the Curmudgeon

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us, my iPod has gone all-Christmas music, all-the-time.

There's a lot of Christmas music to play; I may not get through my Christmas playlist before the Big Day. I surely won't get through it twice.

Variety may or may not be the spice of life; it is surely the spice of Christmas music. There can't be more than two dozen traditional carols -- but the variety of performers and styles makes it so pleasant.

As the iPod shuffles along, Bing Crosby yields to U2. Ray Charles is followed by Mannheim Steam Roller. Yogi Yorgesson sings about playing Santa Claus at the PTA, Vince Guaraldi plays "Christmastime is Here," and some English church choir weighs in. My son-in-law, Hank, actually can tell which choir is which. "That's Canterbury," he might say. Or, "that's York. I've sung there." (He's gone on tour with his choir.) A couple of times, when he's made these assertions, I've checked. He's been right. I'm impressed -- I certainly can't tell one from another -- but I know which are the Beach Boys and which are the Chipmunks. Then the Boston Pops takes me for a "Sleigh Ride." And the Sackville All Stars and Doc Severinsen and Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass....

I don't think I could sit all the way through the Caribbean Christmas disc I bought a couple of years back -- most of the tunes aren't recognizable, to my Gringo-from-Chicago ears at least, as Christmas music. And my album of Medieval Christmas carols doesn't sound much like Christmas music either. One album is in Spanish; the other is mostly in Latin. But when one of these tracks gets shuffled in between songs by Julie Andrews and the Muppets, it's just wonderful.

What will be next? Pearl Bailey asking for that five pound box of money? Louis Armstrong asking "'Zat You Santa Claus?" No, it's the Philadelphia Orchestra doing the "March of the Toys."

I don't look forward to putting up a tree. But I look forward to playing Christmas music on the iPod. What song will you request?

Paul McCartney and Middle Son in Wrigleyville

Middle Son lives in Wrigleyville these days; Sir Paul was just visiting, putting on a couple of concerts at Wrigley Field Sunday and again last night.

There has been no mention in the press as to whether Sir Paul saw any of the giant rats that Ozzie Guillen claims to have seen at that historic venue.

If the editor's note to Edna Gundersen's article (from the July 28 Chicago Sun-Times) can be believed, yesterday's concert was a special occasion: It was 51 years ago yesterday, on August 1, 1960, that the Beatles gave their first public performance in Hamburg, Germany. Of the members of the group appearing on stage that night, only one besides Sir Paul is still alive. Do you know who that person is? (Answer at the bottom of the post.)

Middle Son texted me last night: "I can't believe you're not in Wrigleyville tonight -- it's nuts how many people have been here the last two nights." (The spelling has been corrected and abbreviations expanded, of course.)

It's not the first time Middle Son has seen Boomers trying to recapture their lost youth. In his college days he was obliged to work as an usher at a Rolling Stones concert at Soldier Field. He said he got a contact high from all the greybeards' doobies. He was both shocked and amused at the sight. I couldn't help but hear my father's voice ("you kids think you invented everything -- Gene Krupa went to jail for smoking that stuff in 1943!").

I remember a time when kids not much older than me thought the Beatles were decidedly uncool. After all, their concert audiences seemed to consist mostly of screaming, swooning teenage girls... the type whose daughters screamed and swooned for the Back Street Boys... and whose granddaughters (yikes!) now scream and swoon for Justin Bieber. Well, their older sisters had screamed and swooned for Elvis... and their mothers had screamed and swooned for Frank Sinatra.

How's that for a noisy course in American musical history?

I admit: I wouldn't have minded going to Wrigley for a McCartney concert. Had I the disposable income, I might have tried to cadge a vistor's parking permit from Middle Son. Maybe next time....

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Trivia Answer: If you answered Richard Starkey, MBE, you probably bought your Bealtes lunchbox on eBay. Pete Best was on the drums in Hamburg; Ringo did not join the band until Mr. Best was dismissed.

I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas

I mentioned Yogi Yorgesson in yesterday's essay -- and it occurred to me that not everyone would catch the reference. If you press play, you'll hear Mr. Yorgesson's magnum opus, "I Yust Go Nuts at Christmas." For you young people in the audience, the spinning object pictured in the video is called a "record." It is spinning on a device called a "turntable," in this case at a giddy 78 revolutions per minute. The instrument through which the music is picked up off the record and fed into the speakers is called a "tone arm." At the end of the tone arm is a needle. Seriously. It is riding along in the "grooves" on the record, where the data (the music) is stored.

Yes, really.

There is one song on each side of this record. For those of you who wonder where why the word "album" is used for music collections, imagine four or five of these 78's, in their respective paper envelopes, bound up in a binding: It would look like a picture album, at least a little, on the outside, but it would be instead a record album. By the time that multiple songs could be put on single 12" vinyl discs, the term "album" had come to have its present meaning.

You kids still use the word "album," right?

Heads or Tails #117 -- "One" or "Won"

This week, Barb has gives us a choice for Heads or Tails: We may write anything (heads) about "one" or something specific (tails) about "won." Well, I haven't won anything lately and I don't want to jinx anything pending by talking about it... so we'll go with... one hit wonders.

This morning's post is prompted by an article I saw online yesterday and in the Chicago Tribune naming Daniel Powter's song, "Bad Day," as the top one-hit wonder of the decade now (mercifully) coming to a close. I note further, from this article in this morning's Tribune, that "Bad Day" was used "used for Season 5 'American Idol' contestants who didn't make the cut."

"American Idol" has been on for five years? Who knew? I have seen commercials for that show... during football games....

Anyway, I'd heard of "Bad Day" because it was also used in a commercial. Sadly (at least for the agency that made the commercial) I can't recall the product that was being shilled therein. Perhaps I was not in the target demographic for the item or service in question.

Anyway, "Bad Day" is merely a launching pad for this discussion... a launching pad into the past because, by about the mid-80s I stopped listening to popular music except for catchy tunes in commercials for products I can't identify.

Back in the late 60s, though, The Neon Philharmonic had a moment in the sun with "Morning Girl." Perhaps recalling the Flying Machine's greatest hit, "Smile a Little Smile for Me" will bring a smile to your face?

In 1970, R. Dean Taylor sang, "Indiana Wants Me." In 2009 it is likely that Indiana will want my grandchildren yet unborn... at least those that may someday be the product of the union between Older Daughter and her Hoosier Husband. I liked Ashton, Gardner & Dyke's "Resurrection Shuffle" when it came out in 1971; I didn't know until a couple of years ago that Ashton, Gardner & Dyke were Brits.

A medley of Aliotta Haynes Jeremiah's 1971 greatest hit, "Lake Shore Drive," will bring a smile to the face of any Chicagoan. I saw a reference to another Chicago group, The Ides of March, in one online compilation of one-hit wonders, but I would dispute this. Yes, "Vehicle" was far and away the best-selling record the band ever made, but I remember buying a follow-up, "L.A. Goodbye." If you own two 45s by a group they can't be a one-hit wonder, right?

Older readers, you may pause now and explain what 45s are to any young whippersnappers in the vicinity.

Anybody feel like sharing one of their own favorite one-hit wonders in the comments?

No Prize Contest: Enhance the Halloween playlist

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, time once again for the Curmudgeon's patent-pending, no-holds-barred No Prize Contest in which you, the lucky winner, should one ever actually be chosen, would win a hearty virtual handshake and an imaginary pat on the back.

At least you won't have to declare that on your taxes.

Today's contest concerns Halloween music.

Many of you will be going to or hosting Halloween parties this weekend and next and, you'll be wondering... what music should we play?

Don't be misled by the music you're hearing at the local mall these October days: "Jingle Bells" and "Sleigh Ride" are not recognized Halloween anthems.

And you just can't play Michael Jackson's "Thriller" all night -- no matter how much you like the Vincent Price rap.

Your party will be a "graveyard smash" the first time you bring out Bobby "Boris" Pickett's "Monster Mash."

And maybe even the second time, too.

But it will be a short party if all you have are two tunes on the playlist.

Ray Parker, Jr.'s theme for the movie Ghostbusters will, you should pardon the expression, spark some life into your party.

But then what?

What other creepy, kooky, scary songs for Halloween are there?

And, now, you have the premise of today's little exercise.

Scary, scary witches are appropriate for Halloween... though perhaps not the soundtrack of either Wicked or The Wizard of Oz.

How about Redbone's "Witch Queen of New Orleans?" Or Donovan's "Season of the Witch?" I would include the Chairman of the Board, Ol' Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra singing "Witchcraft." (I don't think that this should be "strictly taboo" -- c'mon, admit it, you're starting to hum along now, aren't you?)

But that's still not enough music for your party no matter how strong the punch, right?

So... how about "Midnight Stroll" by the Revels?

Just got off from work, it was awful late
I had to pass the cemetery gate
The sky was dark and the moon was bright
It was a very, very, cold, cold night
I never thought I could see such a sight
A poor soul doing the dead mans stroll...

Wikipedia confirms, believe it or not, that this charted in 1959.

There are the "Teenage Tragedy" songs... like Ray Peterson's "Tell Laura I Love Her."

Cruising the Internet this morning, I found this video of Jumpin' Gene Simmons 1964 classic, "Haunted House." Now for all of us old enough to remember 45 RPM records this is, possibly, the most boring video ever:


Yes, we merely see the record playing.

Of course, the young people may be fascinated to see an actual demonstration of an ancient and rapidly vanishing technology. And, if one of your kids or grandkids has the nerve to actually say something like that to you, I hope you'll smack 'em one for me, too.

Anyway... now it's your turn. Who can come up with the best additions to this playlist?

Please note: I am not asking for songs that are scary because they're awful. This immediately excludes the catalogs of both Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner. Put that out of your mind entirely.

And please remember, the decision of the judges (well, judge, since I'll decide this contest, if at all, entirely on my own) will be final and may be arbitrary and capricious.

Trick or treat.

Heads or Tails #105 -- "Yellow"

Today, Barb has another timely Tuesday Heads or Tails: We are asked to write about "yellow" -- some of the leaves on the trees around here are turning that color even now. On September 1! Somebody seems to have smuggled Chicago to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

But I won't write about leaves this morning because I cheated and looked at Barb's post first. She often puts up a music video and her selection today was "Big Yellow Taxi" -- but not by Joni Mitchell. Her video is from some entity called "Counting Crows."

We can't count too many crows around here since the West Nile virus came through.

But I started thinking about the "yellow" songs Barb passed by.

The Yellow Rose of Texas. The Mitch Miller version is on my iPod. There goes my street cred.

Yellow Bird by the Arthur Lyman Group. Wikipedia says this was the only version of the song to chart in the U.S., reaching No. 4 in 1961. Now you remember why America was so ready for the British Invasion. And, speaking of which....

Yellow Submarine by the Beatles.

(Despite what it may look like, Wikipedia assures us that Peter Max had nothing to do with the artwork in the movie.)

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John.

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini by Brian Hyland. (This will boost my search engine traffic.)

Yellow River by Christie. (You'd remember it if you heard it.)

Not one but two songs from Donovan Leitch: Mellow Yellow, of course, but also Colours ("Yellow is the color of my true love's hair/In the morning, when we rise....")

And still one more, by the group "Yello." Herewith a medley of the group's greatest hit, "Oh Yeah," used to such great effect in 80s films such as The Secret of My Success and the late John Hughes' Ferris Bueller's Day Off. The video that follows shows neither of these, but may be the actual music video released with the record (kids, turn off MTV for a moment and find an adult to explain to you what a music video is was):

Musical Friday -- It Ain't the Meat, It's the Motion

In a comment to Tuesday's post, Barb picked up on a passing remark that I'd made, asking whether I'd made up the song title, "It Ain't the Meat, It's the Motion."

No, I didn't. Exhibit A for the defense is at the top of this post.

I listened to the Maria Muldaur (of "Midnight at the Oasis" fame) version online before posting this one; there was no video of her cover available.

Straight dope about dope

The boy and his father rode together up the dorm elevator. The boy was moving in for the semester; his father was lending a hand. They were not alone; another young man got off at a lower floor.

The boy and his father noticed the odor as soon as the doors opened. When the doors closed, leaving the boy and his father alone, the father harrumphed: "Marijuana."

The boy regarded his father with surprise. He'd always seen his father as the straightest of straight arrows. How could he possibly know what marijuana smelled like?

He eventually found the courage to ask.

The father harrumphed again. "You kids today think you invented everything. If you haven't done it, it's never been done before.

"People smoked marijuana when I was a kid, too, you know. Especially musicians. Gene Krupa went to jail for possession of marijuana in 1943. It nearly ruined his career" --

Gene Krupa?

Oh. You thought I was the father in that story? Sorry. I was the son.

Gene Krupa was a drummer and bandleader in the Big Band Era. He had the drum solo on "Sing Sing Sing" at the 1938 Benny Goodman concert at Carnegie Hall that seemed to go on... and on... forever. I listened to the concert recording a lot as a kid.

(And that record was made an entire generation before In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.)

So my father was right: Our generation hadn't invented anything new. The Baby Boomers may have expanded the covert pharmacopoeia a bit, but that's all. Louis Armstrong had smoked pot. Bing Crosby smoked pot.

(Kids in the 1970's didn't think of Louis Armstrong or der Bingle as particularly cool. These were artists our parents enjoyed... and so, by association, they were necessarily uncool. A lot of us grew out of this.)

And if we had thought about it at all, we might have realized that old movies that we laughed at in late night campus showings, like "Reefer Madness", were made because kids were smoking marijuana even way back when.

I've written before about my very limited experience with marijuana: Essentially, I had no use for it. For me it was a logical proposition: Getting caught with dope could get me into serious trouble -- even then -- but drinking beer, awful as it tastes, was entirely legal. (The drinking age was then 19 in Illinois. And even that was winked at. Then.)

I wonder, though, if this incident with my father might not also have colored my attitude toward dope: Pretty hard to be cool and rebellious merely by aping your father now, isn't it?

We put our kids through all sorts of anti-drug indoctrination today: D.A.R.E. programs and Red Ribbon Weeks and so on. And the kids look at almost any movie or TV show from the late 60's or 70's and conclude that either we're all a bunch of lying hypocrites or that we (their parents) were really the hopelessly dorky kids who never heard of the stuff -- leaving them free, in their imagination, to discover drugs for themselves.

Well, I haven't been that easy on my kids: I haven't sugar-coated my own exposure to drugs. I haven't denied that I drank in college. I won't be a hypocrite (although I do reserve the right to keep some details to myself -- at least until they've safely navigated the shoals of adolescence and post-adolescence).

I've told my kids the have rules changed since I was their age -- the rules are harsher now. The consequences are more onerous. In Illinois, for example, there's a zero tolerance statute for underage drinking and driving: A driver under 21 who is stopped for any traffic offense while driving with any liquor in the driver's system -- even less than the .08 legal limit for adults -- will lose his or her driver's license. There aren't many loopholes. See, 625 ILCS 5/11-501.8.

I tell my kids I didn't make up these rules. Nor can I do anything about the new, harsh rules: They'd better just follow the rules.

Besides: Clamping down on drinking and driving makes sense. Some of us drank and drove... but we got lucky. But this isn't what persuades the kids. So I keep this mostly to myself.

Tagged by Skittles... talkin' 'bout stacks of golden wax

Barb from Skittles' Place has tagged me with a music meme. Barb, in turn, was tagged by Danielle of Modern Musings; it was from Danielle that I copied these rules:

1. Go to Pop Culture Madness;
2. Pick the year you turned 18;
3. Get yourself nostalgic over the songs of the year;
4. Write something about how the songs affected you; and
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends.

I usually cringe at memes... but I have a soft spot for the pop music of my misspent youth. Who doesn't? One of the more popular posts I've done here recently was a 'no prize contest' to name the worst song of the 1970's.

The hardest part is picking the year I turned 18.... Let's see... I'm still 23 years old... but I graduated from high school in 1974....

I spent a lot of time in one car or another that year (even though the price of gasoline had soared to an unprecedented 60 cents a gallon), punching the buttons between WLS and WCFL -- two 50,000 watt, Top 40, AM powerhouses broadcasting limited playlists and acne commercials in heavy rotation throughout the entire Midwest.

In 1974 I was still going into the record store in town -- not a national chain, just a locally owned record store, right next door to the used book store where I also spent a lot of time. I'd go from one to the other on my lunch break from the jewelry store (I was the mail clerk and delivery boy) picking up copies of the Top 40 surveys from both stations and sometimes a 45 or two at the record store and maybe a National Geographic from the 1920's at the bookstore. The used magazine would cost a dime; the 45's were also under a dollar. I remember being proud, some weeks, that so many of the top 40 45's were in my collection.

I can't recall exactly when I started buying actual albums, but it was around this time: I'd have to choose carefully. Did this album have "enough" on it to justify the $4 or so I'd have to spend at E.J. Korvette's? (Albums cost too much to buy them at the local store.)

I started at the jewelry store for $1.65 an hour. I got a raise, on merit thank you, to $1.75 -- and then the minimum wage went up to $2 and the owners told me they'd have to cut back my hours. I don't think they did.

In 1974, I'd go to work after school. Friday was the late night; I think we were open until 9:00, but it may only have been 8:00 pm. Either way, I had to have dinner -- and I'd get an Italian sausage and beef combo sandwich at "Papa Disease" across the street (no, that wasn't the real name, but it was what we called it) and for 10 cents more I'd get a "dip" -- a sandwich roll dipped in the beef juice. I was still a growing boy.

And I needed the extra energy to make it the block or so to the deli where I could get a quarter-pound of fried clams. And another sandwich.

As delivery boy, I took packages all over the area. Most of these were bridal gifts; I was working at jewelry store, yes, but we had a good line of china, silver, silverplate, and giftware (like Lladro figurines). Local brides-to-be registered at Marshall Field's, of course, but they had to register at our store, too. And I got to drive the bosses' cars. Mr. Jeweler had a station wagon -- yes, with 'wood' on the sides -- which was very practical for deliveries. I once did $389.10 in damage to that car, not that it still bothers me or anything to this very day... but that's a story for a different time. Mrs. Jeweler had an enormous black Buick. You could land a small airplane on the hood. And I cranked up the volume every time I got behind the wheel of either car.

Because these were fancy cars, though, they didn't have manual transmissions. When "Radar Love" came on the radio, even at half past four, I couldn't shift gears. Far better, then, to be in my parents' Maverick with the three-on-a-tree transmission. You needed some kind of imagination to think you were power driving while shifting from second to third in a Ford Maverick... but in 1974 I had just the right kind.

So I would have taken that year... but Barb did. So I'll settle for 1975, a year in which I may in fact have turned 18.....

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's the 1975 Top 10 from Pop Culture Madness:

1.	Get Down Tonight - KC & The Sunshine Band
2.	Thank God I'm A Country Boy - John Denver
3.	That's the Way (I Like It) - K.C. and the Sunshine Band
4.	Cut The Cake - Average White Band (AWB)
5.	Lady Marmalade - Patti LaBelle
6.	Jive Talkin' - Bee Gees
7.	You're The First, The Last, My Everything - Barry White
8.	Shining Star - Earth Wind And Fire
9.	Some Kind of Wonderful - Grand Funk
10.	Send In The Clowns - Judy Collins

Here's the Top 10 according to the WLS Big 89 of 1975:

1. LOVE WILL KEEP US TOGETHER-Captain & Tennille
2. PINBALL WIZARD-Elton John
3. HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN MELLOW-Olivia Newton-John
4. MANDY-Barry Manilow
5. PHILADELPHIA FREEDOM-Elton John
6. KILLER QUEEN-Queen
7. ISLAND GIRL-Elton John
8. BLACK WATER-Doobie Brothers
9. BAD BLOOD-Neil Sedaka w/Elton John
10. SOMEONE SAVED MY LIFE TONIGHT-Elton John

"Get Down Tonight" made it only to No. 16 on the WLS year-end chart. "Thank God I'm A Country Boy" -- a favorite of mine, I must confess, even though I'm not -- made it only to No. 77. "That's the Way I Like It" (uh huh, uh huh) was only No. 20 on the Big 89.

And just to complicate matters further, here's the list of WCFL Top Hits from 1975 (click to enlarge):


The differences among the charts are fascinating. Still, I recognize most of the songs on all the charts... but not all. Something called "Mr. Jaws" by Dickie Goodman held down the No. 13 spot on the Big 89 in 1975. I can't recall ever hearing that. Have you? There are a few others as well.

And my eyesight isn't what it used to be, but I can't find either "Love Will Keep Us Together" or Elton John's "Pinball Wizard" on the Pop Culture Madness chart anywhere. WCFL had "Love Will Keep Us Together" as No. 1 in 1975 also, but "Pinball Wizard" is nowhere to be found. "Have You Never Been Mellow" isn't on the Pop Culture Madness chart either... although Pop Culture Madness advises that this song by Olivia Newton John held down the No. 1 position on the Billboard chart between March 8 and March 14.

"Amie" by Pure Prairie League -- a song that I still sing along with, badly, every single time I hear it -- was only No. 43 on the Pop Culture Madness chart. I can't find it at all on the Big 89 or on the chart from Super 'CFL. But it was in extremely heavy rotation on the juke box at places I hung out in 1975, '76, and '77. And I went to college in Chicago, too.

I could go on like this for days... but I really have to get some work done. So I'll tag SQT, Sari, Susan, Claire (although she's got so many memes backed up now I don't know when she can get to it), and Chris.

Yes, there's a theme to my selections and, no, it's not (intentionally) picking on anyone: All of these people would move the music selections out of the 70's and into what is for me largely terra incognita. I will be interested to see if I recognize anything they come up with....