Friday Funtime: Pop Argot Goes to TV Land

I've been thinking that one of the results of the Global Financial Crisis (TM) will be that Americans in the coming months are going to spend a lot more time at home watching TV rather than going out and doing things that cost money. (Doesn't hurt that the present relentless cold spell makes going out at all an unattractive option.) In recognition, here are 10 of my favorite TV show themes - many of which are better than their underlying shows.

Ed. note: My absolute favorites, "Nanny and the Professor" and "Maude," are unavailable on YouTube due to the No Fun Patrol. TV Party tonight anyway!

1. One Day at a Time
2. Good Times
3. It's a Living
4. S.W.A.T.
5. The Patty Duke Show (Ed. note: A hot dog makes her lose control, eh? I know the feeling.)
6. Room 222
7. Angie
8. Mary Tyler Moore
9. Chico and the Man
10. The Greatest American Hero

Dusk, "I Hear Those Church Bells Ringing"

While I try to unfreeze my iPod (in the literal sense - this exceedingly bitter NYC winter is even worse for technology than it is for humans), here's a clip my friend Mike just sent me. The band's called Dusk because its label, Bell Records, already had a band called Dawn on its roster ("Knock Three Times" et al Dawn, that is). Cute.

Can't say I'm won over by this cloying retread of girl-group anthems (and the video uploader makes a point by interjecting a brief clip of the Dixie Cups' "Chapel of Love" in the middle). And I'm rarely won over by the sentiment of "marry me if you want to fuck me," especially when Beyonce's inadvertently turned such a message into such cruel irony as "Put a Ring On It" blasts out of gay clubs. But for those of you who are into "One Kiss Can Lead to Another" girl-group goodness, here's three minutes of playfulness (with an ex-Angel, as in "My Boyfriend's Back," on lead vox): "I Hear Those Church Bells Ringing."

Dionne Warwick, "Anyone Who Had a Heart"

Apologies for the unplanned mini-hiatus: working overnights recently made it hard to think lucidly about what to cover here.

Speaking of covers: I've been on a kick lately with Dionne Warwick's interp of the Bacharach-David tune "Anyone Who Had a Heart," one of the very best of the pair's efforts both lyrically and melodically. Went on a YouTube hunt for Dusty Springfield's cover, since one of my general music rules is "anything Dionne can do, Dusty can do better" - but alas, it was nowhere to be found. (Ed. note: Someone has since posted it! Speak Ts'ao Ts'ao's name, and Ts'ao Ts'ao shall appear!)

I also found a number of other covers of the song varying wildly in quality. In roughly descending order, I checked out covers from such determined dames as Cilla Black, Shelby Lynne (whose recent album of Dusty covers left me wanting), Atomic Kitten, Bjork, Cliff Richard, Shirley Bassey, Luther Vandross, and even Tim Curry. (The mouthy humorman falls atypically flat with this one, carelessly tossing that beautiful melody around as if it were a damn Nerf football.)

What it all comes back to: There is no topping Dionne's performance of this majestic song, even by Dusty. Especially when, at the repeated coda, she hits what would seem to be the highest note in her range - then sustains and tops it, for several notes, and repeats the whole coda line twice more without even taking a breath. It's an astonishing effort that she gets little credit for - just because she doesn't melt down doesn't mean it's not soulful or meaningful - and I've been thinking it really warrants a few spins. Especially if you're feeling like you're loving more than you're being loved.

The Supremes, "Stoned Love"

Now --

I wanna tell ya
Of a GREAT LOVE ...

It will light up,
It will SURELY light up
Darkened worlds ...

If you just believe ...

Today one of our long national nightmares is over, as George W. Bush leaves the White House for a life of ignominy in Texas and Barack Obama at long, long last officially becomes the 44th President of the United States.

So why on earth am I marking the occasion with a 1970 Supremes song with a pothead title? Because its lyrics apply quite nicely to today's scenario, our country exiting an era of extreme division to declare, "We Are One," if only for a day --

A love for each other will bring fighting to an end
Forgiving one another - Time after time doubt creeps in
But like the sun lights up the sky with a message from above
Oh yeah, I find no other greater symbol of love

-- and the ladies offer a quick message that could easily have been meant for the Commander in Chief:

And to the man
On whose shoulder
The world must depend
I pray for peace and love - Amen.

This is not to say that America is the world or that one's appreciation of Obama's temperament and talents should take on messianic worship of the man. But now that we've seen the damage an incompetent, inept and unthinking president can do, change feels pretty damn good. And with a soundtrack like this thumping, retro Supremes number (retro enough to bring back that farting baritone sax sound; not surprisingly, this was the biggest of the Supes' post-Diana hits), it is all the easier to gaze with hope on the million thronged on the National Lawn and really believe that, for today, We Are One.

Lead us with kindness and wisdom, Mr. President.

Stevie Wonder, "Happy Birthday"

Despite the cold, it's too optimistic a day for America for me to play Nina Simone's "Why (The King of Love Is Dead)," by far the most mournful of all tributes to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. With the country excitedly awaiting tomorrow's swearing in of Barack Obama as our president, it seems right to play something celebratory for a man who helped millions to believe in equal opportunity and peaceful coexistence. Happy birthday, Martin.

PS: A parting message to our now ex-president. (Thanks for the idea, Mark.)

Friday Funtime: Motown Turns 50!

Motown Records turned 50 this week. The Detroit-based label issued an astonishing number of the most successful and most memorable singles of the '60s and '70s, and though its impact has gradually waned over the years, it stands as one of popular music’s veritable landmarks. Hitsville, U.S.A., lived up to its name, with over 50 Billboard #1 singles (and surely even more on the R&B charts, though I can’t confirm offhand), all benefiting from backing from the fabulous Funk Brothers and vocals from an array of astonishing talents. Herein: 10 of Motown’s finest moments (and believe me, I could have chosen any of hundreds).

1. The Four Tops, "Bernadette"
2. Stevie Wonder, "I Was Made to Love Her"
3. Marvin Gaye, "You"
4. The Velvelettes, "Needle in a Haystack"
5. Jackson 5, "Maybe Tomorrow"
6. Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, "If You Can Want"
7. Eddie Kendricks, "Keep On Truckin'"
8. The Commodores, "Sail On"
9. Edwin Starr, "War" (Ed. note: This one's for you, piss-ant president.)
10. Diana Ross, "Ain't No Mountain High Enough"

The Beatles, "Strawberry Fields Forever"

For me, it's an article of faith that 1967 was the greatest year of the rock era, and the Beatles (yay!) are a primary reason for that - and I'm not referring to Sgt. Pepper. "Penny Lane"/"Strawberry Fields Forever" is, I declare, the greatest double-sided single in rock history. But while the Pet Sounds-ish "Penny Lane" is at the end of the day my favorite Beatles song (not to mention my favorite #1 hit), it's "Strawberry Fields Forever" that's on my mind this week.

A recent bout with love (kind of like a bout with dysentery, but without the helpful weight loss) has reminded me in deep ways of SFF's sense of alienation. John Lennon didn't always match his most poetic lyrics up with his most memorable melodies, but here he remarkably synthesizes those two sides of himself, in a tune about someone who, in today's operative language, just isn't on the same page with those around him. He's defiant in his unwillingness to fake it: it's hard to be alone, but even harder to be someone else. So for him, "it's not too bad" ... nevertheless, it's a rare person who can say, "No one, I think, is in my tree," and not be mournful of that fact. John pulls it off here, which makes me admire him all the more as I observe from my own solitary branch.

Which, I've been thinking, almost makes "Strawberry Fields Forever" a response record to "Eleanor Rigby": this, John tells Paul, is where the lonely people come from. If not perhaps where they belong.

Eric Carmen, "Sunrise"

Because this is how the world should sound when you've just completed a work all-nighter and you don't have to do a damn thing all day today. (Fast-forward to the 1:45 mark if you don't want to hear uploader Music Mike's intro.) Eric Carmen may not have known what the eff to do with his hair, but he knew his way around power pop better than damn near any of his contemporaries. Cleveland rocks!

The Waterboys, "Fisherman's Blues"

Three years ago today, one of my very best friends enjoyed his last day on earth.

I'd known him since college; he struck me then as a wise man and old soul, and there seemed something almost fated about it when he persuaded me to move to San Francisco in the fall of 1996. We spent three years sharing the air in SF - sometimes out of touch over something stupid, but more often sharing the sights and smells and sounds of the city. A typical Sunday for us at our best might find us meeting in the Haight for brunch and then a walk through Golden Gate Park's flower gardens, followed by chess and conversation in a coffeehouse, then maybe dinner in Japantown or bickering over groceries and Blockbuster rentals before hanging out at his place.

We were never intimate, let me be clear about that; he was entirely het - but we had a deep connection nevertheless, both of us interested in creating positive change on grand levels yet devoted to each other's minor conversations as well. Indeed, the last time I saw him, he'd flown all the way to Seattle to watch me deliver a paper at a music conference. It's a rare person who'll do that for you. And Brandon was as rare as people get.

Kenneth Brandon Potter was only 35 when he passed away, for reasons still unsatisfactorily blurry to me ("heart failure" seems more a symptom than a cause), and I don't pretend I'm cool with his departure. It left a permanent hole in me.

But his life is something to be celebrated, not mourned, so I'll expunge my grief my own way as we enjoy a song Brandon and I both loved very much. In fact, when I reconnected with him in August 2000 after moving back to SF from a yearlong gig in SoCal, it was in a North Beach bar called Vesuvio with its own grand history, and the Waterboys' "Fisherman's Blues" just happened to be the song playing as Brandon wound up the stairs to greet me. As if the bar knew how to welcome back two devoted footsoldiers with tales to tell.

Brandon, I love ya, bud. Always will. But I'm still pissed that you never let me know where you were headed.

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot's Deserted-Island Discs

So since I brought up the subject yesterday, here's the list, at least the way I feel these days, of the 10 CDs I'd want to have with me if I were to be stranded on a deserted island. (By the way, this is the correct nomenclature, not desert island. Why do people say it that way? The point is that you're removed from civilization, not that sand abounds; and what's a desert island anyway?)

Anyway, here's the list. (I thought it would be cheating to include greatest-hits comps.)

Jefferson Starship, Red Octopus
Dusty Springfield, Dusty in Memphis
Love, Forever Changes
The Beatles, Revolver
David Bowie, Station to Station
Terence Trent D’Arby, Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D’Arby
The Monkees, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn & Jones, Ltd. (Ed. note: Sorry, I didn't find the clip where Micky says "Psychedelic!" at the end.)
Stevie Wonder, Innervisions
Bran Van 3000, Discosis
Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

And if I can have 10 more, if you please:

Jesus Christ Superstar OST
Marvin Gaye, What’s Going On
The Beatles, Magical Mystery Tour
Carole King, Really Rosie OST
Jellyfish, Bellybutton
Joni Mitchell, Court and Spark
Seal, Seal (II)
Matthew Sweet, In Reverse
Aimee Mann, The Forgotten Arm
Hair OST

David Bowie, "Stay"

January 8 is the birthday of both David Bowie and Elvis Presley. (And Robbie Krieger of the Doors, who, as my friend Mark pointed out today, always gets lost in the shuffle.) The KFOG radio station used to do a contest every year on this day, in which listeners would call in and sing either a Bowie song in the style of Elvis or an Elvis song in the style of Bowie. The results could be anywhere from cringeworthy to mad genius. Alas, the contest has gone silent these past couple of years.

Now, I'm not a big Elvis fan; I have no need for "Hound Dog" in my life, though I love some of his later material ("Suspicious Minds" and "Kentucky Rain," especially, the latter overdue for an entry on this blog). But I'm always happy to offer a slice of Bowie tribute.

His Station to Station album is one of my deserted-island discs: only six songs, but each of them masterly conceptualized and performed. "Golden Years," the hit, wonderful as it is, is actually my least favorite of the lot; I'd much rather hear his pained anguish on "Word on a Wing" or "Wild Is the Wind." (Who says coke kills emotion?) But best of the bunch is "Stay," a plea to another to be reconsidered - as well as a plea to the self to have the courage to say something, to do something, to not let this person slip through overly cautious fingers. The album version features some absolutely incendiary guitar work from Earl Slick that elevates the song's emotional hit to crisis level; this live clip, with Adrian Belew taking Slick's role, doesn't have quite so much magic but it still gets the message across. "Stay ... I really meant it so badly this time / 'Cause you can never really tell / When somebody wants something you want, too."

Eire Apparent, "The Clown"

OK, after all that Manilow sappiness yesterday, I'm posting this just because I want to give you fucking nightmares: Eire Apparent, "The Clown."

Isn't that the most horrid thing ever? (I don't know which is worse, that bad-trip montage of menacing clowns, or "When he goes to bed, he starts to pray / That he can have a child someday.") And to think that Jimi Hendrix produced.

Barry Manilow, "Ready to Take a Chance Again"

One of my favorite movies, the 1978 kooky crime comedy Foul Play, provides me with one of my favorite movie scenes: After some opening scenery shots of San Francisco at twilight and a quick plot teaser, Goldie Hawn and Chevy Chase have an almost-meet-cute at a pre-wedding reception (her falling for him requiring on the part of the viewer not merely suspending disbelief but pummeling it and setting it aflame), but she, having been burned by a bad relationship, can't pull the trigger.

So off she goes for a head-clearing trip down the California coastline in a very '70s-styled punch-buggy convertible almost the exact shade of lemon yellow as the very '70s-styled credits rolling. And the song she's listening to as she winds through solitary roads above sweeping ocean vistas? Barry Manilow's "Ready to Take a Chance Again," the wonderfully unsubtle (and Oscar-nominated, for writers Charles Fox and Norman Gimbel) message to Goldie that it really is worth it to be open to loving again.

I watched the movie again on a whim last night, aware of the song's resonance in my life, and I'm wondering if I might be on the verge of leaving a shell of my own, after a successful if loveless year in which no crisis arose and my life went along as it should.

Fleet Foxes, "White Winter Hymnal"

The granddaddy of alt-weeklies, New York's Village Voice, is currently conducting its annual Pazz & Jop survey of music critics' favorite albums and singles of the past year. I have participated the past five years - but I'm not submitting a ballot this year. It would be an unfair vote; I simply didn't listen to enough new music to have informed opinions on what the cream of the crop truly was, nor could I even come up with 10 albums I could recommend without reservations.

But if I were casting a ballot this year, I'd include a band I've only now heard in the new year, courtesy of a new friend. Fleet Foxes are a Seattle band whose music has the barren-cathedral hollowness of My Morning Jacket and the close vocal harmonies of early Crosby, Stills & Nash. There's an astonishing beauty to "White Winter Hymnal" that makes it easy to ignore the unsettling lyrics ("red as strawberries in summertime" is far too pretty to describe a head falling to the ground and turning the snow red with blood).

The rest of the Fleet Foxes album is quite good too, and is getting plenty of critical love from the tastemakers of the blogosphere. I don't think they'll miss my P&J vote.

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot's Rockin' New Year's

For those of us who shouldn't have to pretend we like the Jonas Brothers or Miley Cyrus, here's a New Year's dance party Pop Argot style. Fogies get on the good foot!

1. Shadows of Knight, "Shake" (NB: possibly worst lip-synch perf ever)
2. Deee-Lite, "Groove Is in the Heart"
3. James Brown, "My Thang"
4. Leon Haywood, "I Want'a Do Something Freaky to You"
5. Jackson 5, "I Want You Back"
6. K.C. & the Sunshine Band, "I'm Your Boogie Man"
7. Earth, Wind & Fire and the Emotions, "Boogie Wonderland"
8. Archie Bell and the Drells, "Tighten Up" (or, if you prefer, YMO's crazay take on Soul Train)
9. Flamin' Groovies, "Shake Some Action"
10. Dexy's Midnight Runners, "Come on Eileen"