School of Shlock

My review of Rainn Wilson as the Pete Best of 80s hair metal in The Rocker is now up over at Box Office.



Short version: The Citizen Kane of failed 80s hair metal rocker comedies.

Putting on the Dog

And now, another surprise from the MOJO 40th Anniversary of the White Album issue (September 2008):

MARTHA MY DEAR

It's a Paul thing. And a humour-filled one, right from the pawn shop piano start and on through a build-up punctuated by farting tuba where some of Britain's premier jazzers impersonated a brass band and cellos, violas and violins pile in to add substance to Macca's lightweight but attractive melody line. There are those who reckon Paul's sometimes vaudevillian creation was inspired by a chunk of a Von Flotow opera that tenor Mario Lanza boosted in at least three MGM musicals. Then there's the Crufts crowd, peddling a belief that the song was prompted by McCartney's affection for Martha, his old English sheepdog. Not that the lyrics lend any weight to that particular idea. More substance can be given to the theory that Paul had his break-up with Jane Asher in mind while piercing together such lines as "You have always been my inspiration" and "Be good to me -- don't forget me." Certainly it was a personal offering with -- despite the Lennon/McCartney credit -- no other Beatle involvement, although George Martin aided and abetted with those brass and string arrangements.

All in all, a bit of tuneful fun -- one that suited (Ambrose)Slade when they covered the song on their debut album just a few months later. -- Fred Dellar

I don't know about you guys, but I had no idea Slade had done this, or that they were ever so utterly twee, as the Brits say. Skinheads with violins? Only in the 60s...

"That summer, race was a much bigger story than the Beatles..."

Well, waddya know -- turns out that the Paul McCartney ditty that everybody loves to dis has some interesting unsuspected depth.

From the 40th Anniversary White Album Tribute in the September 2008 issue of MOJO:

OB-LA-DI, OB-LA-DA

Between starting the song in March in Rishikesh and the first attempt to record it in Abbey Road on July 3 fell what would have been Hitler's 79th birthday. That April 20, 1968, Conservative Shadow Defence Secretary Enoch Powell gave the notorious "Rivers of Blood" speech where he prophesied a racial apocalpse in Britain if immigration from the former Empire continued. It was headline news, provoking protests both pro and anti. That summer, race was a much bigger story than the Beatles.

So when Paul McCartney wrote what he intended to be a Number 1 hit whose male lead was clearly to be identified as West Indian ("Desmond is a very Caribbean name"), set to music that hybridised British music hall and a ska beat, how could he not be making a point? McCartney was in the business of making points in a publically palatable style: he'd written the Beatles previous single A-side, "Lady Madonna," in solidarity with women's daily struggle. The inspiration for "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da came from a citizen of a former British colony typical of those in the Powellite firing line. Born Jimmy Anonmuogharan Scott Emutakpor in Nigeria, jazzman Jimmy Scott came to England in the '50s, for a while playing congas in Georgia Fame and the Blue Flames; he met McCartney in Soho's Bag O'Nails club. His Yoruba catch-phrase, 'ob-la-di, ob-la-da,' meaning 'life goes on', sparked a hit chorus just as Ringo's stray catch-phrase 'a hard day's night' had with Lennon four years before. And like that 1964 smash, McCartney's new song celebrated workaday romance -- but whose folksiness pictured a friendly face of Britan's controversial new arrivals in a familiar British street setting, the West Indian lilt giddying up a public bar knees-up.

The old joanna intro came courtesy of John Lennon whose "fresh attitude", according to Macca, "turned the whole song around" after it had become bogged down in repeated takes with Ringo and George that totalled 42 hours over seven days.



Vetoed as a single by the other three -- all that effort and ill-temper for "granny music" was their verdict -- the song went to Number 1 anyway as covered by Marmalade, a better version by Leeds-based West Indian musicians The Bedrocks having just scraped into the Top 20.

And Jimmy Scott? He played congas on an early take (Anthology 3), and McCartney later settled a legal bill for him in return for dropping a claim for royalties on the song. Later he joined UK ska revivalists Bad Manners, in 1986 contracting pneumonia on tour in the US and dying after being held for hours naked when strip-searched by immigration officials at Heathrow Airport. McCartney really had a point, it seemed. But not even his fellow Fabs got it. -- Mat Snow

Me neither, I must admit; that whole story is news to me, and mea culpa if everybody else has already heard it. To be honest, though, I've always liked the song, as unfashionable as it may have been to say in rock crit circles.

Kelefa Sanneh, We Hardly Knew Ye

The World's Most Irksome Rock Critic may have departed The New York Times, but over at the Arts section of The Newspaper of Record, his spirit lives on, especially when it comes to that all important Song of the Summer contest.

From today:

In the summer of 2007, Rihanna’s “Umbrella” was the inescapable song of the season, booming from car windows and city parks long past Labor Day. This year there has been plenty of competition for the crown: Lil Wayne has two contenders, “Lollipop” and “A Milli”; Rihanna is back with “Disturbia”; and Katy Perry ignited ChapStick sales with “I Kissed a Girl.” Other songs might have dominated the summer charts in a bigger way, but for the artist Andrew Kuo, whose visual music criticism can be found at nytimes.com/music, no song better captures a lazy afternoon on a city stoop than “Lookin Boy,” a hilariously detailed insult-fest from the Chicago rappers Hotstylz.

The song in question...



Yup, does it for me. Easily as good as "Umbrella." How's that for a ringing endorsement?

Seriously -- say what you will about the Times, but do they know their demographic or what?

Feist Rules, Okay?

I love this woman and I love this song, and I am here to tell you -- this is beyond question the cutest version of it you're ever going to see.



"One two three four...chickens just back from the shore."

Seriously -- do they say "the shore" in Canada? I thought it was just a New Jersey thing....

[h/t Kerrin L. Griffith]

Saturday Glam Blogging...

Here's Jobriath with Rock of Ages from his 1973 eponymous LP. While Bowie flirted with homosexuality, Jobriath's stage persona was courageously and defiantly gay. Todd Haynes' dissapointing 1998 film Velvet Goldmine, featured lead character Brian Slade who was clearly an amalgam of Bowie and Jobriath, but the film was a muddled mess that is best forgotten for those interested in the era.

Love the band, love the tune, and love the space suit and helmet! By the way, his 1973 LP will soon be re-released on Rhino August 19th, so check it out.!

Cheers! Have a great Saturday!

Weekend Listomania (Special Familiarity Breeds Contempt Video Edition)

Well, it's Friday and you know what that means. Yes, my Oriental rentboy amanuensis Hop-Sing and I are off to the Republic of Georgia, where we've signed up to fight the forces of tyranny in the newly formed Bill Kristol/Robert Kagan Brigade. It's sort of like the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in the Spanish Civil War, except that Kristol and Kagan won't themselves be serving even though, unlike Lincoln, they're actually alive.

In any case, posting by moi will likely be sporadic for a few days.

But in the meantime, here's a fun project to tide us all over:

THE ACTUALLY GOOD POP/ROCK SONG THAT THANKS TO RELENTLESS OVEREXPOSURE YOU NOW TOTALLY DON'T CARE IF YOU NEVER HEAR AGAIN!!!!!

Okay, here's my totally top of my head Top Seven:

7. Smashing Pumpkins -- Disarm



I actually still like this song, which has always struck me as a kind of White Album outtake for our time. However, since I needed yet another Smashing Pumpkins song for the purposes of getting them into every Listomania from now until the end of time, I have decided I never want to hear it again. So much for my street cred...

6. Smash Mouth -- All Star



How many movies has this been in? Shrek 1, 2 and 3? Schindler's List? Brokeback Mountain? Titanic? The Sorrow and the Pity? In the Realm of the Senses? I've lost count....

5. The Who -- Won't Get Fooled Again



I'm sorry, I love the fricking Who, I love this song, and I love the album it's from. I even loved hearing Pete and Roger do it at the recent VH-1 Honors concert. Nonetheless, after hearing it every week for the last 80 years on whatever CSI franchise it's on, I'm officially done with it. Sorry.

(Honorable mention: "Who Are You" and "Baba O'Reilly")

4. Bonnie Raitt -- I Can't Make You Love Me



A beautiful record, full of longing and regret, and gorgeously warbled by Bonnie. Nonetheless, for several years it was impossible to sit at a bar without this coming on the jukebox and hearing either a waitress or a tipsy woman by the peanut bowl singing along. As a result, if I ever hear it again I will definitely take a hostage.

(honorable mention: "Let's Give Them Something to Talk About")

3. Marvin Gaye -- Let's Get It On



Another great song, but at this point it's replaced a packet of condoms and a scratchy Barry White album as the cheesy sexual encounter signifier of all time. Seriously -- once Jack Black has covered it, it's over.

2. Led Zeppelin -- Stairway to Heaven



Overfamiliar? Hell, I'm at the point now where even the parodies drive me crazy. (This one is still pretty funny, however.)

And the numero uno actually good song that you've heard so many fricking times that you just want to kill yourself at the thought of hearing it again, it's not even close so don't bug me already, is obviously --

1. The Beatles -- Hello Goodbye



Again, I happen to love this song -- which I understand is not a lot of people's favorite McCartney/Beatles effort -- but after the six or seven lame covers of it that have been featured, endlessly, in Best Buy ads in the last year or two, I'd rather have my eyes gouged out with a burnt stick than listen to it again.

Awright then -- what would your choices be?

[Shameless Blogwhore: My parallel Cinema Listomania is now up over at Box Office. As always, if you leave a comment over there, an angel gets its wings.]

A Slightly Earlier Than Usual Clue to the New Direction

Live in Milan (date unknown), here's drunken mick louts Conscience of the Western World U2 with their anthemic "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."



Of course, let's not tell these guys, okay? It might sting a little. The whole Fair Use thing, and all that.



In any case, as always, a coveted PowerPop No-Prize will be awarded the first commenter who divines its relevance to tomorrow's Weekend Listomania.

Today's Chart Listings From Hell

From The New York Times' Arts(!) section today:

In a slow week at music stores, the “Mamma Mia!” movie soundtrack rose two spots on the Billboard album chart to reach No. 1. The soundtrack, released by Decca, sold 131,000 copies in its fifth week on sale, according to Nielsen SoundScan, while last week’s top seller, Sugarland’s “Love on the Inside” (Mercury Nashville), dropped to No. 3 with 91,000. Miley Cyrus’s “Breakout” (Hollywood/Disney) remained at No. 2 with 102,000.

We should note here, more in amazement than in an anger, that the "Mamma Mia" soundtrack features Pierce Brosnan and Christine Baranski singing ABBA songs, not actual ABBA records.

Seriously, I forget who said it but it's nonetheless true: If God doesn't totally smite the Music Business out of existence he owes a written apology to Sodom and Gomorrah.

Brevity Is the Soul of Wit Part Deux

And now that we've established that teen sensations The Jonas Brothers are not, in fact, The Beatles [see post below], here's another question deserving a pre-emptive short answer.

Does teen sensation Miley Cyrus deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as Chrissie Hynde?



Uh, no.