ABBA, "Happy New Year"

Just as Charlie Brown had a unique ability to "turn Christmas into a problem," so are ABBA capable of turning New Year's into remorseful melodrama. In their world, New Year's is a gray-morning'd look back at foolish choices, lost loves, misguided lives - and mispronounced champagne. (Soft ch, Agnetha.) But it's nevertheless a memorable melody; and in "Happy New Year" they ultimately do get up, dust themselves off, pick the confetti off the floor and move on to a new starting over. "May we all have our hopes, our will to try."

(And not to overthink that video, but interesting that Benny doesn't stop fake-playing his piano long enough to toast his bandmates at the end, a scene followed by a shot of three candles instead of the four at the beginning. The walrus was Bjorn?)

I want to thank all of you for reading what I've been thinking in 2008 and wish you peace, health and happiness in '09. (Any requests for music to cover here next year?)

Yvonne Elliman, "Everything's Alright"

My friend Jeff and his wife run a Christian retreat/conference center in the state of Washington. It's rewarding work, but often exhausting to give and give to other people, to be in perpetual service. So he came to visit this weekend for some relaxation and recharging of the batteries.

The visit could not have been more perfect. Sightseeing, good food and drink, blissful massages, and lots of laughs. And late at night, viewings of Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas (a perpetual favorite of mine, new to him) and Jesus Christ Superstar.

JCS has long played a significant role in my apprehension of the life of Jesus - or, more precisely, the life of Judas, whom I've long found to be a misunderstood character. But we weren't there to theologically sort out whether Judas was right to mortalize and de-Messiah-fy Jesus. We just wanted to watch a story effectively told through powerful acting and a crazily dramatic score.

"Everything's Alright" was the moment that summed it all up perfectly for us. Yvonne Elliman may be a whinyface, but she knocks this one out of the park with her selfless, all-encompassing concern for Jesus' life and comfort. Judas and Jesus each get a verse to ramp up their interpersonal drama a bit - their tension is the most underappreciated part of the movie - but by the end, what predominates after three minutes of waltz-time singalong is that warm, silent feeling that everything actually is all right.

Let the world turn without you tonight, Jeff. And happy birthday.

Kenny Loggins, "Celebrate Me Home"

Somehow I managed this holiday season to not hear "Celebrate Me Home" one single time. I'm remedying that now.

It's one of the most mawkish of Kenny Loggins's efforts, and that's saying a lot for someone who's easy to mawk. But I'm a sucker for every manipulation in it - the gospelly builds, the hush moment as the backing vocalists come back in, and most of all, that simple feeling of warmth and security that comes from being greeted home by loved faces. Hearing "Celebrate Me Home" makes me pine for the days when your family and friends could actually greet you at the gate at the airport. The beautiful drama of re-entry loses something in the yards and yards of that other kind of security.

I hope that as you read this entry and listen to the song, you can look back at a holiday moment when you saw someone you don't see often enough, and smile.

PS: I've been thinking that George Michael really could've sung the hell out of this one in his prime.

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot's Holly Jolly Christmas

Sorry, didn't mean to go a week between posts - I spent much of this week in the Pittsburgh area visiting family. Had a delightful time, actually, and I must admit that although I do not identify as a Christian, it was liberating to be able to say "Merry Christmas" to people without wondering if I was offending anyone. (Very few people actually mean "Merry Christmas" with a malice of domineering their religion over anyone else's, I find. It's just that those who do, are disproportionately vocal about it.)

But whatever holidays one chooses to observe this month, with my wishes for peace and good will among all men and women, here are 10 songs of the season I enjoyed this past week, beginning with James Brown's fascinating intersection of social-justice finger-wagging, Christmas cheer, black liberation and multiculturalism. (If by multiculturalism we mean random shouts of "Volare," "Hava nagila," and "Danke schoen!")

1. James Brown, "Hey America"
2. Clay Aiken, "Mary, Did You Know?" (Ed.: Yes, Mary, we did.)
3. Vince Guaraldi Trio, "Christmas Time Is Here"
4. Several renditions of "O Holy Night," all better than this one
5. Vanessa Williams, "What Child Is This?"
6. Boney M, "Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord" (for the OMGWTFLOL files)
7. John Denver and the Muppets, "The Peace of Christmas Day"
8. South Park cast, "Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel"
9. Alison Moyet, "Coventry Carol"
10. Darlene Love, "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot Salutes Dave Morey

Today was the final broadcast day for longtime KFOG DJ Dave Morey, who'd been a San Francisco daytime staple for well over 20 years. In that time, he popularized the "10 @ 10" conceit - "10 great songs from one great year" - that has since caught on in many other radio markets.

KFOG was one of my first cultural discoveries upon moving to SF in September 1996. A coworker suggested the station to me, and I was instantly hooked. Over the next few years Morey introduced me to a plethora of musicians whose catalogs were unfamiliar to me - not just obscurities, but hit artists who'd fallen out of radio fashion, like Barry White and War.

Morey's promised to continue recording 10 @ 10 shows during his retirement, which is indeed comforting to me, but still, it feels like losing a friend. Lest I get sentimental, here are some onetime Dave faves that subsequently became faves of mine as well.

Happy retirement, big guy.

1. Joni Mitchell, "Coyote"
2. Barry White, "I'm Gonna Love You Just a Little More, Babe"
3. Squeeze, "Take Me I'm Yours"
4. Ramsey Lewis with Earth, Wind & Fire, "Sun Goddess"
5. Marvin Gaye, "You're a Wonderful One"
6. War, "Galaxy"
7. Stevie Wonder, "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing"
8. Les McCann & Eddie Harris, "Compared to What"
9. Four Tops, "Yesterday's Dreams"
10. Julie Driscoll with Brian Auger and Trinity, "This Wheel's on Fire"

Joe Dolce, "Shaddap You Face"

My favorite DJ is retiring tomorrow. I'll pay tribute to him then. For now, my self-indulgent reaction to news that I knew for some time but is only now hitting me: "Shaddap You Face," from the adorable Joe Dolce. Guaranteed to put a smile on ya.

And if that's not enough to cheer a person up, here's Samuel L. Jackson's reading of the song.

He make-a me cry, iss so sweet.

The Byrds, "Eight Miles High"

Here's a metaphor being thrown down the middle of the plate: No matter how talented or gifted you are, there are some moments where you must be in harmony with others to reach your potential.

L&Gs, I present a 1973(? - commenters suggest it may be '74-'75) performance of "Eight Miles High," a 1966 Byrds hit that genuinely spooked me when I first heard it as a kid - the vocals, as heard on oldies radio, seemed oddly layered and futuristic (it preceded the Airplane in my grasp of psychedelia). Here, in this performance with Roger McGuinn singing it all by his lonesome, it is brittle, hollow like decaying bone - in the words of Rolling Stone's McGuinn bio, that "pinched, adenoidal quality" ruins it for me. Whoever he was paying to be his Byrds at this point obviously weren't being paid enough - they couln't be less interested to be onstage, much less engaged enough to be singing along.

I offer the original for contrast.

Jefferson Starship, "Miracles"

On this date in 1972, at 3:32 in the morning, I showed up for a few spins around this ol' karmic wheel on earth. Since then, I've always taken the day with considerable reverence. I disagree with the cultures that don't celebrate birthdays - I think it's healthy for everyone to have one day out of the year where they can be king of the hill, where they can be the center of attention and hear the joy of their life being celebrated.

So today's entry is purely a self-indulgence for me: my all-time favorite song, "Miracles" by the Jefferson Starship. I love the little details within the song - Marty Balin's cooing delivery, Grace's sharp and intricate fill-ins, the tight rhythm combo of Kantner, Chaquico, Freiberg, Sears, and Barbata, the chorus's subtle strings, even the dated language ("I picked up your vibe") - but there's something intangible about it that goes beyond what I can explain. "Miracles" just touches me to the core in a way few things do.

And I've been thinking it's a nice, hopeful thing to hear today as I revel in the kind words from so many people today and this past weekend, both in person and through the Intertubes. Thank you all.

ETA: Meant to add a special mention to David Freiberg's electric piano work on "Miracles" as a source of my love of the song. That pearly sound gets me every time (cf: my semi-illogical love of Rod Stewart's "You're in My Heart").

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot Takes a Field Trip to Amoeba

Amoeba Music is the greatest record store in America. No discussion of the matter needs to be had. Over the years I've spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars there - some of the best money I've ever spent. Before the Internet streamlined my tastemaking and discovery procedures, it was Amoeba's vast stacks of used oldies compilations and fastidious maintenance of the works and side projects of the Jefferson Airplane/Starship that gave me so much of my musical education and appreciation.

In tribute and gratefulness, here's a sampling of what I picked up in my latest visit - this one, in the company of dear friends, which always makes shopping more fun.

1. Tanita Tikaram, "Twist in My Sobriety"
2. Michael Nesmith and the First National Band, "Joanne"
3. Jerry Reed, "Amos Moses"
4. Howard Jones, "Everlasting Love"
5. Stone Roses, "Love Spreads"
6. Social Distortion, "Ball and Chain"
7. Eric Carmen, "Never Gonna Fall in Love Again"
8. David Gray, "You're the World to Me"
9. Odyssey, "Native New Yorker"
10. Pet Shop Boys, "Go West"

The Commodores, "Just to Be Close to You"

Tales of my latest travels will have to wait for another day; I've had too little time to process. Meantime, on we go with more pop ephemera.

"Just to Be Close to You" was one of the first signals of the Commodores' transition from funk party band to Lionel Richie-dominated ballad outfit. It's a finely arranged and sung tune once they get past the intro - but people, that intro is something. On hearing it a few weeks ago, a friend and I laughed about the excesses of Lionel's Southern, preacherly drawl. "Ah! You know, I been through so many changes in my life, girl ... Aw'nah founndat mateer'l thangs I thought had so much valyah - aw girl, didn't really have any valyah at all! Then I was a lonely man. A man with no direction, with no purpose. No one to love and no one to love me for me. Aw girl ..."

So I was listening to the song again today and started thinking: Who does that voice remind me of? Finally I realized who it was:

Reverend Brown, the preacher who introduces Randy Watson in Coming to America.

Village People, "San Francisco"

I'm going offline for several days, gonna see some good friends and have some good times. While I'm gone, enjoy this clip that disproves the axiom that "the more things change, the more they stay the same."

Because nothing stayed the same as this.

L&Gs, I present a very awkward and not ready for prime time Village People stumbling their way through their joyous, vibrant, rapturous celebration of America's greatest city: "San Francisco."

Little Anthony and the Imperials, "Shimmy, Shimmy, Ko-Ko-Bop"

Pop Argot's mom celebrates her birthday today! In her honor, I've reached back all the way to 1960, when she was something of a 45s collector. I was 3 or 4 in the mid '70s when I figured out how to work her record player, and "Shimmy, Shimmy, Ko-Ko-Bop," a near-novelty record from the usually hyperdramatic Little Anthony and the Imperials, was the first of her 45s I gravitated to. (Followed soon after by the Miracles' "You've Really Got a Hold on Me," and then by ... um, "Convoy.") It's a little silly, but finely sung - and what great modulation!

Happy Birthday, Mom.

Frankie Goes to Hollywood, "The Power of Love"

Mere hours after posting an intent to be less vituperative and more understanding in resolving my anger at various injustices, I received a test - and promptly failed.

I'd just come home from buying a Christmas tree - that's how full of reconciliatory cheer I was - when I got word of a friend's cousin having been ejected from a Madonna concert (of all places!) and arrested for unwarranted reasons of outright homophobia, the arena security and Denver police being all too willing accomplices. Suddenly the holiday cheer evaporated and all I wanted to do with that Christmas tree was to ram it up a certain Denver policeman's rectum.

So much for "Right Thought."

Earlier that day I'd been listening to a British Christmas-music station called Play Xmas UK: its playlist is heavy on A Very Special Christmas but with its share of novelties and oddities, and a few songs one wouldn't necessarily think of as holiday tunes. Among them: "The Power of Love" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood, a dramatic, sweeping ballad that followed after the nihilistic bombast of "Relax" and "Two Tribes." It's in the setlist in large part for its birth-of-Jesus video, and probably in part because it was a Christmas #1 in the U.K. But if Christmas is a time of love and forgiveness and coming together - a notion I'm distrustful of, given what I've seen of the nominal "Christians" of Middle America - I would like to think it was included as well because its message of redemption, of love transcending barriers and impediments, is just as much a part of the season. And it's made all the stronger by its delivery from a group of unapologetic homosexuals - not the easiest path to have trod in 1984. Now that's what I call reconciling.

The song's is a powerful message, however one takes it. And I hope that my friend's cousin has a chance to listen to "The Power of Love" and draw from it spirit as well as the song's equally palpable note of defiance. "Make love your goal," Jerome, and don't let the bastards get you down - if you can do this, live this power of love, you'll be a better man than I.

Dionne & Friends, "That's What Friends Are For"

A few of you noticed my absence over the past couple of weeks. Nothing of concern; I put the blog on temporary hiatus because I was diverging from what Buddhists with their Eightfold Path would call "Right Thought." There's a righteous anger, which is good and useful, and a destructive anger, which is not; I've been slipping toward the latter, and that ain't good.

I'd been reacting so vituperatively to stuff like this defense of Prop. 8, with the sad URL of "preserving marriage dot org": "Proposition 8 isn't about hating gay couples or their lifestyle. It's about protecting the institution of marriage." That sentiment remains baffling to me, but I shall try to not respond with hate. Instead, I respond with a simple question that probably cannot be answered by anyone who has stuck with me as a reader here: From what, precisely, are you "protecting" marriage? You've chosen the word protect very consciously, but not very carefully: protect implies danger is afoot, and I'm not clear on what danger I bring. Please, anti-gay-marriage people: tell me how I am dangerous.

Or instead, pro-8ers, we can agree to this compromise: I'll keep the Christ in Christmas if you'll keep the Christ out of the Constitution. Fair enough?

On a related note, I observe that today is World AIDS Day: a day on which we are reminded how much compassion and research are still needed to address a disease that's affected millions and millions; but also a day on which some of us are reminded of the extent to which we were vilified in years past for the disease's very existence. But again, no anger for ignorance of times past and present; instead, this song of reconciliation, which debuted on the charts this week in 1985: "That's What Friends Are For," originally a duet between Dionne Warwick and Stevie Wonder; then, spurred by a suggestion from Liz Taylor, transformed into a charity record with assisting vox from Gladys Knight and Elton John*. The song's a bit cloying, sure - and was a surprising revisit for anyone who knew it from its playing over the closing credits of Night Shift a few years prior - but it's a great bit of Bacharach songwriting, and it was marvelously effective in making AIDS a subject of compassion rather than revulsion. For someone who had to be educated on AIDS via Rolling Stone magazine rather than through the news, parents, or school, that's kind of an important point.

In good times, in bad times, may we heed the lesson of this song and be friends to each other in a time when AIDS is still very much among us, amid throes of other worldly ills.

* Knight's and John's roles are sung by Luther Vandross and Whitney Houston in the powerful clip I've linked to here.