Culture Club, "Love Is Love"

By the tale of the tape, "Love Is Love" isn't one of Culture Club's stronger singles. Its lyrics are at times a little hokey, the bridge fumbles clumsily into the solo, and Boy George doesn't pour his entire soul into it the way he did "Church of the Poison Mind" and "Time (Clock of the Heart)."

But "Love Is Love" was nevertheless put to marvelously effective use in the forgotten of-its-time mid-'80s film Electric Dreams. The film's plot: Man buys computer, which comes to life. Computer falls in love with neighbor across the way and composes her a song. She thereupon falls in love with man, making computer jealous. Computer accepts defeat - because, c'mon, who can love a computer?

In some ways, Boy George was the right one to sing this moment - he surely knew from love forbidden at this stage, "Victims" being his best take on the subject. "It's written in black and blue," indeed. Whether you're a computer forced to pretend your emotions and needs are irrelevant, or a drag queen forced to pretend you prefer tea to sex so that a nascent MTV generation will still find you palatable, the deprivation is smothering. But any similarities between the computer in Electric Dreams and a certain walking encyclopedia of a blogger are, as they say, purely coincidental.

PS: No Friday Funtime tomorrow - Pop Argot will be out of town.

"Weird Al" Yankovic, "I Lost on Jeopardy"

Greg Kihn, you're an asshole.

Perhaps I should qualify that. This weekend, I was utterly delighted for Sean Penn when he won a Best Actor Oscar for his performance as the titular gay-rights political vanguard in Milk - and then utterly delighted with him when he used part of his acceptance speech to shame those who had voted for California's Proposition 8. In his cut-to-the-chase words: "For those who saw the signs of hatred as our cars drove in tonight - I think that it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect, and anticipate their great shame, and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes, if they continue that way of support. We've got to have equal rights for everyone."

Brought tears to my eyes; it really did.

Then the onetime rock semi-star and now morning DJ Greg Kihn weighed in with a blog entry (scroll down to "Academy Awards," Monday 02-23-2009 7:46am PT) that I'm told he recited on the air on KFOX vituperatively. Key line: "Sean Penn insulted me and everyone else that voted their conscience on Prop 8. Wow! This is pretty entertaining stuff. Leave it to Hollywierd to honor this bunch."

So not only is Kihn societally backward, he also still says "Hollyweird."

Those of us who think support of Prop 8 is evidence of a lack of conscience were of course appalled; many wrote letters or sent e-mails or called in to complain. And so he backtracked today - ever so slightly: "I would like to APOLOGIZE to anyone I offended. That was not my intention. I am not against gay people, I had a gay guy in my band for many years. I like gay people! I work with gays and have many gay friends. I am not particularly fond of Sean Penn in general, but he's got the right to get up there and express his views. That's what free speech is all about!"

Oh, Greggy, don't you worry about my being offended - it's only civil rights, right? No great shakes. And how wonderful of you to permit Sean Penn his free speech, but I'm sure those gay people you know and like so much would like you a little bit better if you supported not merely their speech but their LIVES.

Think about it, you Kihn-bred coward. Understand that what you call "conscience," we who are thinking and feeling people call "discrimination." Until you get that, you're just another "Jeopardy" loser.

Gnarls Barkley, "Crazy"

"Records don't really change my life anymore, no matter how good they are," a new friend observed recently on his Facebook page. At first I saw a great deal of truth in this - surely once we're well into adulthood, our self-definitions are so entrenched that it takes much more than a pop record to shake things up. But there have been a small handful of 2000s records that have still done just that for me.

Primary among them: Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy." It was an unexpected cross-format smash in '06: here in the States, it hung out at #2 for several weeks (though the duo have alas not since returned to the Hot 100); in the U.K., it did even better, reigning at #1 for nine weeks before they deleted it from distribution so people wouldn't get sick of it.

A lot of factors accounted for its success: "Crazy" sounded like nothing else on pop (or alternative) radio at the time; the beat was simple yet insistently memorable; Cee-Lo sings the hell out of that hook; the Rohrschach-blottered video was a magnificent match; and "ha ha ha! bless your soul." I myself was in it for the spirit.

"Crazy" is a conversation between a tortured sensitive artist type and God. The TSA finds himself out there, out of touch; no one, he thinks, is in his tree, and it's because he's too aware of what's really going on. He asks for affirmation to process life this way. God replies: "I hope that you are having the time of your life. /... Who do you think you are? /... You really think you're in control?" TSA wonders how he ever got it in his head that he once could have answered those questions. Now, he's not so sure. Maybe his purpose and his isolation are transient and arbitrary ego feelings after all.

At least, that's how I've been understanding the song. Does that make me crazy?

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot Goes to the Oscars

(Before today's post, a very serious matter. Some months ago, I blogged about a Timi Yuro song, inspired by a fellow music critic who was posting to a message board under the pseudonym "If Timi Yuro would be still alive, most other singers could shut up." An undeniably great username.

And a name that's now gone silent. The man behind it, Rickey Wright, suffered a stroke this week and passed away yesterday at the too-young age of 45. I'm sure no one reading this blog knows him, but there are celebrations of a life passionately lived here and here and here ... and surely other places on the Web. It is consolation to me (a) that he didn't suffer long; (b) that he lived life as he wanted to and received love in return; and (c) selfishly speaking, that my one face-to-face interaction with him resulted in a blog post that made me say "Whee!" twice. Rest well, Rickey, as the music you loved so well carries you home.)

Mm-hmm. Now, on to today's weekend anticipation: the Oscars. I'm largely indifferent to film - a major blind spot on my pop-culture radar; the medium rarely speaks to me in the way music does. So herein I offer 10 of my favorite Oscar winners for Best Original Song in a Motion Picture. With the disclaimer that I'd have an even better set if I chose among the Oscar losers instead.

1. B.J. Thomas, "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head" (1969) (writers: Burt Bacharach/Hal David)
2. The Carpenters, "For All We Know" (1970) (writers: Fred Karlin/Robb Royer/Jimmy Griffin)
3. Isaac Hayes, "Theme From Shaft" (1971) (Ed. note: I wish I could have found his memorable Academy Awards performance. But I found him winning his Oscar!)
4. Keith Carradine, "I'm Easy" (1975)
5. Barbra Streisand, "Evergreen (Love Theme From A Star Is Born)" (1976) (writers: Streisand/Paul Williams)
6. Christopher Cross, "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)" (writers: Cross/Burt Bacharach/Carole Bayer Sager/Peter Allen)
7. Berlin, "Take My Breath Away" (1986) (writers: Giorgio Moroder/Tom Whitlock)
8. Carly Simon, "Let the River Run" (1988)
9. Bruce Springsteen, "Streets of Philadelphia" (1993)
10. Bob Dylan, "Things Have Changed" (2000)

Joey Eppard, "Static"

This week, while I've been trying to convince an older friend of the merits of Jason Mraz, a younger friend is trying to convince me of the merits of Joey Eppard. Funny how we continue the tastemaking chain.

Eppard, for those unfamiliar (which would have included me a mere few weeks ago), is a guitar wizard and singer who fronts a hard alt-emo-rock band called Three. Three's music is not my cup of tea - I'm not sure I've published anything in eight months of writing this blog that one would really call "hard rock," but refresh my memory if I'm wrong - but Eppard is an undeniable talent. And on "Static," a track from his 2002 solo album Been to the Future, he sounds to these ears more than a touch like good ol' Mr. A-Z. Except that Mraz is probably constitutionally incapable of writing a song about hooking up with someone on the regular and refusing to escalate her above "stranger" status.

At least, that's how I hear the song. And so I've been thinking "Static" might make for a good theme song for the carelessly sexual character Sven in the online comic Questionable Content.

Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, "Baby, Baby Don't Cry"

Yup, it's a Miracles twin-spin this week. This one (Smokey having gotten his top-tier credit just after "I'm the One You Need") actually tells the exact same tale as "Come 'Round Here," only more gently and more persuasively. It's the same backstory: Smokey loves this girl whose guy is a no-good cheat, and his challenge is to persuade her that the guy is wrong not because Smokey wants her for himself but because she needs to be away from this other guy regardless of what she chooses for an alternative.

Which is too many syllables for a pop song, so Smokey, taking the lyrical matter for himself this time, constructs a more placid scenario in "Baby, Baby Don't Cry," which in 1969 brought the Miracles back to the Top 10 for only the second time since 1963, astonishingly (through no fault of the majestic and underappreciated "Going to a Go-Go" and "More Love," topics for another day).

Smokey again is content to stand at the sidelines - "Love is here, standing by" - but is more direct in his dismissal of his rival suitor. The confidence is palpable; Smokey never loses control of his voice in the way he did in the thrilling yelps of "Come 'Round Here." He knows that what he is speaking is the truth, and further, that she will get it this time. That she will get it this time.

And you root for him once again, the man whose love is so deep and so secure that he can fade into his chorus, "Love is here, standing by."

The Miracles, "(Come 'Round Here) I'm the One You Need"

One of my favorite, and one of the most peculiar, entries in the Miracles' large and often miraculous catalog. Why peculiar? Because it was one of very few Miracles hits that Smokey Robinson didn't write himself, and it sounds so tailor-made for Levi Stubbs's declamatory voice that I can't fathom why the Four Tops didn't do it instead. Maybe it was too similar to their concurrent triumvirate of four-to-the-floor hits "Reach Out, I'll Be There," "Standing in the Shadows of Love," and "Bernadette"?

At any rate, Smokey comes off more victim than victor here on "(Come 'Round Here) I'm the One You Need," a tune ostensibly about waiting your turn while your beloved wastes her time with a guy who's clearly wrong for her. Problem is, he's so meek when he implores, "I may not be the one you want, but I know I'm the one you need," that the girl's natural reaction is to say, "Yeah, right, whatevs" and go back to the bad guy.

Still, you've gotta root for someone in Smokey's situation. At least he's a gentleman in his impotent longing.

Far Corporation, "Stairway to Heaven"

On the off chance you ever wondered what producer-slash-fraud-perpetrator Frank Farian did in between Boney M and Milli Vanilli: he oversaw this too-faithful-to-be-this-absurd treatment of one of rock's most enduring songs. L&Gs, I present Far Corporation's "Stairway to Heaven." It somehow nudged into the Hot 100 in 1985, even though Singer No. 1, he of the period hair, mimics Robert Plant's inflections syllable for slavish syllable, and Singer No. 2, who doesn't get his moment until the pre-coda shrieks, looks like either Toto's "Hold the Line" vocalist or the "da Bears" guy from SNL years ago.

WTFF. The '80s were a hell of a drug.

Friday Funtime: Hits From Hell!

I've spoken in this space before about retired KFOG DJ Dave Morey and his "10@10" programming. One of his recurring theme sets that I would look forward to every year - well, maybe not quite look forward to - came every Friday the 13th, when he would trot out what he called "Hits From Hell": songs that succeeded on the charts despite being conceptually inane, or dubiously sung, or just plain bad. I'd like to carry that on in my own small way here.

This year, we get a bonus: Friday the 13ths in two consecutive months. If Dave were still active, he'd be playing love-themed hits from hell today. But because I'm not feeling sour on love right now, I'll skip that conceit and just present 10 hits that I find thoroughly, distressingly, dreadfully unlistenable. (Personal predilections, mind you; most music fans would disagree with me on several of the below, and surely Dave himself would not have played any of them on this day.) Nevertheless ... "Enjoy."

1. Jimmy Buffett, "Margaritaville"
2. Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Sweet Home Alabama"
3. Steve Miller Band, "Rock 'n Me"
4. David Dundas, "Jeans On"
5. Andrew Gold, "Lonely Boy"
6. Canned Heat, "Goin' Up the Country"
7. J.J. Cale, "Crazy Mama"
8. Jimmy Gilmer & the Fireballs, "Sugar Shack"
9. Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, "Sylvia's Mother"
10. Wang Chung, "Everybody Have Fun Tonight"

The Cherry People, "And Suddenly"

With Valentine's Day arriving this weekend (and with me having other plans for tomorrow's Friday Funtime), I wanted to send out a song of tribute for those who are in love or at least believe in love. (As someone who has more than once dressed in all black on Feb. 14, this is a great leap forward for me.)

I would much rather have given you Left Banke's original 1967 version of "And Suddenly." It's the sound of pure, unbridled, astonished happiness. But there's no clip online of that song from the band that gave us "Walk Away Renee" and "Pretty Ballerina." So instead I present the Cherry People, "And Suddenly": an inferior version to my ears, though theirs actually charted on the Hot 100 in early '68, topping out at #45. It's meekly sung, but with this alternate clip you can at least see Steubenville, Ohio, teens awkwardly dance to it.

Seriously, though. Go get the Left Banke version. And suddenly, your world will be filled with sunshine; and suddenly, your life will be going so fine.

The Dreamlovers, "You Gave Me Somebody to Love"

The esteemed music critic Robert Christgau suffers neither fools nor copy editors gladly. So I didn't get to know him as well as I might have liked during the brief period we both worked for the Village Voice. But he did at least one nice thing for me: knowing my love of '60s pop, he gave me a just-received CD titled Phil's Spectre II: Another Wall of Soundalikes. As the title suggests, the songs were all produced in the densely orchestrated style of Phil Spector's Wall of Sound (the Righteous Brothers' "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" being the iconic example, for those unfamiliar). A few of them even warrant such bombastic treatment.

And so we have "You Gave Me Somebody to Love," a 1966 non-hit by a Philly vocal outfit, the Dreamlovers, who'd scored a couple of hits a few years prior. The writers are Peter Andreoli, Vincent Poncia, and Jerry Ross - Poncia, I know from other writing credits; the other two, unfamiliar to me. They've given this your basic Righteous backdrop, but it's the message that matters here, not the music. (The depth of the message is probably why the song failed to chart.) Guy's losing his girl - but instead of being angry with her or begging her to change her plans, he lets her go, sad to lose her but fulfilled with the knowledge that he knows how to love. That he has known love. It's the most mature response to not being able to be with the one you love.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn / Is to love and be loved in return," went the old chestnut "Nature Boy." I'd argue the truth is slightly to the left: the greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and never wonder whether you're loved in return.

Franz Ferdinand, "Michael"

This weekend I picked up the new Franz Ferdinand album, Tonight. It's their third straight set of easily appreciated dance-rock, this one becoming more Duran Durannish as it goes. (Mostly latter-day Duran, though penultimate track "Dream Again" is remarkably similar to 1983's "The Chauffeur"* to my ears.) Tonight will likely make my year-end Top 10 should I make such a list at the end of this year.

But it's not a Tonight track I want to spotlight today, but rather one from FF's self-titled 2004 debut. While "Take Me Out" was the hit from that record, "Michael" was the one that got them initial media attention, owing to its rare-for-any-format (but especially for rock) declarations of attraction to the title character. (The song is clearly not about ex-Bangle Michael Steele.)

"Michael" is very much about a guy crushing on a guy. But it's not really a coming-out song (at least, not any more than that fraudulent Katy Perry ditty was). Rather, it's a love song for the post-labels era, the 2000s' answer to "if it feels good, do it," a statement that what the singer feels for that moment about Michael is right, even if he's only dancing; no matter what anyone else thinks and no matter what he's felt about any man (or woman) in the past or present. "Michael" is a song of liberation from constricted behavior and the labels of self-identity (even if my many straight friends named Michael weren't necessarily so flattered by the attention), and I've been thinking the point of it all is covered by another song from that Franz Ferdinand debut, "The Dark of the Matinee": "How you'd have a happy life / If you did the things you like."

(* Ed. note: I've posted the censored version of the "Chauffeur" vid for the sake of people who access from work.)

Adele, "Chasing Pavements"

The Grammys have come and gone, and today I find myself lacking a single important moment to share with people. The performances were nice, and in some cases quite good (Allen Toussaint and the New Orleans brass line that followed Lil Wayne and Robin Thicke would have stolen the show had we not had to wait 3 hours to get to them, but that's just my Toussaint's worth), but at no point did my jaw drop with a sense of "this is where it's at."

Indeed, the dissolution of monoculture in popular music suggests that there is no "where it's at" anymore: dozens if not hundreds of artists are where it's at for myriad microcultures throughout America and the world. So one might well ask if the Grammys really serve a purpose anymore.

But to wonder about that too much is to take away from some undeniably great music that was made in 2008. Coldplay's spirited take on the Song of the Year-winning "Viva la Vida" is but one example. And I came to appreciate the voices of Sugarland's Jennifer Nettles and neophyte warbler "Dude, you're gettin'" Adele, even if I wasn't so warm to their material.

Adele, the Best New Artist winner (and thus new curse-bearer) is an interesting case. She seems her generation's heir to the throne of Alison Moyet, though surely with some awareness of the current Corrine-Colbie-Feist crop of songbirds. I'd bet she's ridden down Tanita Tikaram avenue a few times too. She's got a fabulous husk to her voice and knows the value of restraint with it, and in her humble Grammy acceptance speech, she came across as sweet and grounded, the kind of person you'd expect to see cast as the understanding best friend of a just-coming-out gay teen in an indie British dramedy. I hope she records much more - and maybe I'll come around to changing my mind on "Chasing Pavements."

Which is not to be confused with the saga of my freelance-writing career, "Chasing Payments."

Friday Funtime: Pop Argot Goes to the Grammys

Well, not literally. The invitation got lost in the mail, so I'll be watching from home like a dozen other people in America. It's sort of a pity that the Grammys are no longer a cultural moment - the industry has changed, and so has the audience. No time to elaborate on why this is, so let me just share 10 of my favorite Record of the Year Grammy winners through the years. (PS: Good luck, Jason Mraz!)

1. Captain & Tennille, "Love Will Keep Us Together" (1976)
2. Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass, "A Taste of Honey" (1966)
3. The 5th Dimension, "Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In" (1970)
4. Simon & Garfunkel, "Mrs. Robinson" (1969)
5. Carole King, "It's Too Late" (1972)
6. Tina Turner, "What's Love Got to Do With It?" (1985)
7. Seal, "Kiss From a Rose" (1996)
8. Santana f/ Rob Thomas, "Smooth" (2000)
9. Roberta Flack, "Killing Me Softly With His Song" (1974)
10. Tony Bennett, "I Left My Heart in San Francisco" (1963)

The Beatles, "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You"

I've never been a great dancer. I flail around, and generally have a fun time doing so, but I just don't have that "cool," that sexy fluidity that emanates from the pelvis in a real dancer. You either have it or you don't. So the only dancing I've done in recent years has been at weddings.

Which perhaps makes "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You" an odd choice to mark this first week of February, roughly the 45th anniversary of the Beatles' magnificent assault on America. (Music geeks are probably the only community for whom year no. 45 is a big deal.) Why a song that didn't even make the Top 40? And why on earth would George prefer dancing over the prospect of being able "to kiss or hold your hand"?

Well, you can hear "She Loves You" or "I Want to Hold Your Hand" or "Please Please Me" just about anywhere. I wanted to showcase something slightly less familiar. And this innocent little George-sung ditty - on which Paul and John do some of my very favorite backing harmonies; those fuzzy ohhh-OH! fill-ins kill me every time - well, what can I say: I understand now.

Three Dog Night, "It's for You"

A new friend - who's significantly younger than me, and significantly wiser - and I were recently discussing the limitations of Bob Dylan's singing voice. As follow-up, I made him a mix CD of covers, the first few of which were soulful (and well-sung) renditions of Dylan tunes. (Howard Tate's "Girl From the North Country" and Nina Simone's "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues," if you're curious.)

I also threw in a few odds and sods, including one I was convinced he'd never have heard of despite it being a Lennon-McCartney composition (he's an equally devoted Beatles fan). Cilla Black, a pixieish singer in the Dusty and Petula mold, took first crack at it, but Three Dog Night's arrangement of "It's for You" brought it to an entirely new place, bringing street-corner a cappella harmonizing and a furious percussive energy to the melody.

So I handed over the disc one recent evening, and as he scanned the track listing, his eyes and ears perked up. "It's for You!" he exclaimed, and began clapping out the intro. He grinned widely. "My dad used to play this around the house all the time!"

Um, well, then.

My age insecurities aside, I was delighted to have bonded on this sub-two-minute snippet of pure pop glory. In researching this entry, I discovered that a band called Springwell (who?) borrowed liberally from the 3DN arrangement (though from the sounds of it, they were getting conflicting advice from a few people on where the song should go). According to its YouTube uploader, Springwell took "It's for You" to #60 in 1971.

So I've been thinking this would be a fun one to sing and play for laughs sometime. Andy, what do you think?

Buddy Holly and the Crickets, "Not Fade Away"

R.I.P. Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson (and their pilot, Roger Peterson), d. Feb. 3, 1959. "Love is real, not fade away."

Bruce Springsteen, "Glory Days"

The people of Pittsburgh undoubtedly spent last night and maybe some of this morning rightly drinking and reveling in celebration of the Steelers' Super Bowl victory. (Then again, Pittsburghers need an excuse to drink like Tyler Perry needs an excuse to dress in women's clothes.) As a native Pittsburgher with very fond childhood memories of Myron Cope and Terrible Towels and polka songs about Jack Lambert and Franco Harris and Rocky Bleier, I took a great deal of pleasure in the game - which I'd argue was even more thrilling than last year's, if such a thing is possible.

But I found almost as thrilling Bruce Springsteen's halftime performance, a burst of endless energy that a guy approaching 60 just isn't supposed to have.

Then again, Bruce is no ordinary man. Blessed with an indomitable spirit, a tireless work ethic, and an engaging charisma, he's spent 35-plus years reflecting, celebrating, and analyzing everymen's lives, giving a voice to the voiceless with a depth I don't think any other American artist has approached (though John Mellencamp's had his moments).

And one of the best examples of his populist embrace is a song I hadn't even thought to consider when trying to guess which songs he'd perform last night. I anticipated "Born to Run" and his glaringly inferior new effort "Working on a Dream," but was not expecting the happiest song ever written about regret.

"Glory Days" is giddy, even though it's about dreams deferred. People who wanted the lives of stars, who instead settled for the lives of bars - and indeed, all three of the song's verses use drinking as the means - the excuse? - to launch into looking back. I have been sitting here at my computer for over half an hour trying to apprehend Bruce's mixed message: for a guy who's spent his whole life working on a dream (yes) and making it real, it's funny that he should have such a jolly Buddha laugh as he chides those who didn't do what they would have had to do to make their dreams happen. I guess I'm just more judgmental than the Boss is - to my detriment.

PS: Who did he learn that wind-up from, Paul Byrd?