Cahiers Du Merde (An Occasional Series)

So speaking as we were yesterday of that Blender magazine list of the 50 Worst Songs of All Time -- you may recall that Lionel Ritchie's "Dancing on the Ceiling" came in at number 20, which I felt was a tad unfair -- I got curious about the rest of the list. And because I love you all more than food, here's a link to it for your amusement. Please take a look before you continue reading the rest of today's poor scribblings.

That chore completed, let us stipulate that said list was compiled in 2006, and thus there's nothing on it by, say, fashionable contemporary mediocrities like Chappell Roan or Morgan Wallen.

And yes, I think we can all agree that most of the songs listed therein do, in fact, suck.

That said, I think it's kinda jive that there's nothing on it pre-Beatles; apparently the people at Blender either believed contemporary music as we know it began in 1965 or else they thought there was no crap whatsoever in the 50s.

Yeah, right.

But speaking of the Fabs, I was also a little irked to note the presence of "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" at number 48. Which, whatever your opinion of the song musically -- I think it's charming -- displays a certain, er, ignorance as to its historical context and significance.

As you can see from this piece from MOJO, which I originally posted after it ran in their September 2008 issue (not coincidentally the 40th annniversary of The White Album).

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

Between starting "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" in March in Rishikesh and the first attempt to record it in Abbey Road on July 3, Conservative Shadow Defence Secretary Enoch Powell gave the notorious "Rivers of Blood" speech on April 20, 1968 (which would have been Hitler's 79th birthday). In it, he prophesied a racial apocalypse in Britain if immigration from the former Empire continued. It was headline news, provoking protests both pro and anti.

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 [cockney slang for piano -S.S.] 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. -- Matt Snow

I must admit, that whole story was news to me when I read it in MOJO.

And hey -- its sudden relevance to current events here in the USA will escape no one's notice. 😎

In any event, I've always liked the record, as unfashionable as it may have been to say in rock crit circles, and it's certainly more important than the snobs at Blender gave it credit for.

A Postscript to Friday's Listomania: "Critical Re-Assessment or Mellowing in Your Old Age?" Part Deux

Okay, so I stumbled upon this video the other day...

...and apart from it being fabulous and funny just in terms of the montage, I was suddenly struck by how much better the song itself was than I remembered.

Seriously -- dead catchy, and it rocks. I mean, what's not to like?

So I got a huge chuckle when I looked it up over at Wikipedia and discovered the following:

In the early 21st century, Blender magazine published a list of the "50 worst songs of all time", with "Dancing on the Ceiling" listed at No. 20.

I mean, wow. There's just no pleasing some people, apparently. 😎

Monday's Cartoon Chuckle

Okay, that really made me laugh. 😎

Less self-indulgent actual music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: Special "Critical Re-Assessment or Mellowing in Your Old Age?" Edition

Okay, I think we can all agree this song really sucks.

Reason I bring it up is because, for most his career, I could take or leave Billy Joel, but mostly leave. Only album of his I ever listened to for pleasure was Glass Houses, i.e., his New Wave move, and thus atypical; other than that, starting with "Piano Man," I kinda found him embarrassing.

The odd thing is, all these years later I suddenly think he's terrific. I even went to one of his now legendary run of shows at the Garden, and thought it was among the best concerts I'd ever attended.

"We Didn't Start the Fire" still sucks, though. 😎

Which leads us, inexorably, to today's business. To wit:

...and the artist you basically disliked in their prime but have -- seemingly inexplicably -- come to appreciate lo these many years later is...?

No arbitrary rules, and no, it doesn't have to be a superstar of any ilk. Just somebody who you didn't care for in their commercial heyday but now think are kinda cool.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, my choice -- aside from Billy Joel, obviously -- is Queen.

Who -- with the exception of one or two tracks -- I mostly couldn't stand back in the day. And then I saw the movie, and now I'm their biggest fan. Go figure.

I mean -- how did I not get how stone gorgeous this is? I mean, sweet Jeebus -- I can listen to that for the bass and drums alone!!! 😎😎

So -- who would YOUR choice(s) be????

Discuss.

And have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Spindles Rule, OK?

Attentive readers will recall my enthusiasm for midwest indie-pop rockers The Spindles, whose fab gear cover of The Hollies' "Bus Stop" I enthused about earlier this year.

And now here, from their just released album Wavelength, please enjoy the lead off track, "Getaway."

I think you'll agree when I say -- that is power pop heaven fer sure.

Seriously, the entire album (which, have no fear, includes the aforementioned Hollies cover) is that good, and what are you waiting for? You can order it, either to stream or in physical form, over at their website HERE (not to mention at Amazon, Spotify, Bandcamp and the rest of the usual suspects). You'll also find gig info over there, and man, I wish I could afford a trip to Illinois to catch the upcoming show they're doing May 3rd at International Pop Overthrow Chicago.

Oh -- and about that CD. As you can see...

...it's packaged with an actual spindle attached -- i.e., an adapter for a 45 rpm record -- as a bonus.

Hey vinyl fans -- how freaking cool is that? 😎

Wednesday's Cartoon Chuckle

Hey -- they can't ALL be great. 😎

Actual music posting resumes on the morrow, weather permitting.

Cinematic Notes From All Over: Special "Let Us Now Praise Famous Jazz Guys" Edition

Okay, I realize this is rather far afield from the traditional subject matter of this here blog, but I just saw a music documentary that is so cool I really have to share.

Ladies and germs, may I please present for your attention -- director Brigitte Berman's Artie Shaw: Time is All You've Got.

I'm not even remotely a scholar of the Big Band era, but before seeing the film, I at least knew the bare-bones of Shaw's history -- i.e., that afficianados of his genre are more or less agreed that, musically speaking, his stuff was more interesting than that of his better known contemporaries Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller, and that, on the recorded evidence, his ouevre swung harder than anybody elses. (He was also probably closer than any of them to a contemporary rock star, given his love/hate relationship with his audience, his ahead-of-its time interest in the esthetic of the recording studio, and his understanding of celebrity itself as a kind of Post-Modern phenom). I should add that the film originally came out in 1985; I was thus amused the other day to learn that after it won an Academy Award (for Best Documentary) in 1987, the ever-fractious Shaw sued its makers on the grounds that since it had become more critically and commercially successful than expected, he was thus entitled to a greater share of the film's profits (Shaw lost the suit, BTW).

Anyway, when you see the flick, I guarantee you won't be bored for even a millisecond. Shaw is a resolutely magnetic presence -- funny, articulate, combative -- and he's onscreen (in shot-for-the-film interview footage) for most of the movie. The myriad guest interviewees, many of whom are almost as compelling as the titular star, include Shaw's 8th(!) and last ex-wife, actress Evelyn Keyes (Scarlett's younger sister in Gone With the Wind) and the Velvet Frog himself, the great Mel Torme, neither of whom fail to address Shaw's (er) difficult qualities.

I should also add that there's a particulary wonderful sequence about the making of his 1945 hit recording of Gershwin's "Summertime," featuring trumpeter Roy Eldridge...

...and if you can listen to the finished product without getting goosebumps you need to have your meds checked immediately.

In any event, adding to the fun, the new 4K restoration (supervised by Berman) looks and sounds fantastic. The film has never previously been available for home viewing, so I'm happy to report that you'll be able to stream it at Film Movement Plus starting this Friday; a Blu-ray version goes on sale over at Amazon at the end of next month.

Bottom line: To paraphrase the immortal words of Siskel and Ebert -- four very enthusiastic thumbs ups!!! 😎

And Speaking of Gorgeous (An Occasional Series): Special "Logrolling in Our Time" Edition

From 1987, please enjoy ex-Squeeze guy the great Paul Carrack and his to-die-for cover of The Searchers cover of Jackie De Shannon's "When You Walk in the Room."

I've been a fan of Carrack since forever (i.e., when he was singing "How Long," with Ace back in 1974), but I must confess I had never encountered the above until last week, when Friend of PowerPop© Sal Nunziato posted a link to it over at his invaluable Burning Wood blog.

So I'm sharing it.

And not out of laziness, damnit, and fuck you for suggesting that! 😎

Seriously, the song itself is one of my all-time faves, and while Carrack's neo-Spectorian approach may not necessarily be the way you guys hear it, for me at least, it -- in Sal's phrase -- pushes all kinds of my buttons.

Hmm...perhaps I should check out the album it's from as well.

Oh, and you should be thankful I didn't make an "ex-squeeze me?" joke in today's title. So there. 😎😎

La Fin de la Semaine Essay Question: How Do You Say "What's in a Name" in Yiddish? Edition

So the other day I became quite insufferably pleased with myself.

Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you.

Basically, it started when I was reading about the recent mini-brouhaha over country music mega-star Morgan Wallen walking off-stage during the final credit bow of the episode of Saturday Night Live he had just appeared on. (In case, mercifully, you're unfamiliar with the guy, here he is with one of his performances from the show.)

Anyway, I was trying to characterize the music the guy does, in a way that would sort of sum up my disdain for pretty much all current commercially successful country music, which frankly kinda sucks IMHO.

And then it hit me.

Auto-Twang.

Thank you, I'm here all week. And like I said, insufferably pleased with myself.

Which leads us, inexorably, to today's business. To wit:

...and your favorite or least favorite genre appellation for an offshoot of pop/rock/country/folk/soul music is...????

No arbitrary rules, but the more obscure the better, as far as I'm concerned. And whether you enjoy the genre itself is irrelevant -- we're talking strictly the name (which was, if truth be told, probably originated by some putz rock critic).

Discuss. (Also: A coveted PowerPop No-Prize© will be awarded to any reader who coins a genre name as memorable as my new one).

Oh -- and I'l tell you my two least favorites for free.

Death Metal (ugh) and Kraut-Rock (yuck).

And yeah, my favorite is Power Pop, but you obviously already guessed that. 😎😎

Anyway, have a great weekend, everybody!!!

Songs I'd Forgotten Existed, Let Alone Loved (an Occasional Series): Special Homage to "The Bickersons" Edition

[I originally ran a version of this back in 2012; I'm re-upping it because a) it gives me an excuse to post that utterly fab Del Amitri live clip, and b) because it reminds me that I'm not actually the dazzling urban sophisticate I like to think I am. Enjoy, if possible. -- S.S.]

So anyway, the other day I was talking with a certain Shady Dame of my acquaintance about a gorgeous remake of The Hollies' "Look Through Any Window" (by Michael Carpenter) that I had posted here earlier in the week. And I mentioned that it had just occurred to me that in some ways the remake was an attempt to give the song a more modern sound along the lines, specifically, of Del Amitri's 1997 "Not Where It's At." A record which as I have noted here on previous occasions is perhaps my favorite piece of power pop jangle of the last several decades.

Here's the artifact in question, as the band performed it on Conan O'Brien's show; I have appended the lyrics for reasons that will be soon be obvious. Give it a listen, won't you?

With some girls it don't matter who you hang with/With some girls it don't matter how you talk/And some girls they are easy to be yourself with

But the one girl that I want, ain't easy to please with what I've got

With some girls it don't matter where you're aiming/With some girls it don't matter how you act/And some girls they don't care what car you came in

But the one girl that I want, she wants that one bit of geography I lack

Yeah she don't want me 'cos I'm not where it's at

Yeah I'm not where it's at

And some girls they will worry about reactions/And some girls they don't give a damn for that

But somehow I ain't ever in on the action/'Cos the one girl that I want, she wants that one little quality I lack

Yeah she don't want me 'cos I'm not where it's at

Yeah I'm not where it's at

I don't have my finger on the pulse of my generation

I just got my hand on my heart/I know no better location

Yeah she don't want me 'cos I'm not where it's at

Yeah I'm not where it's at

You're welcome.

In any event, I proceded to make my case to said Shady Dame by putting up a YouTube of the song which had the lyrics scrolling down as the tune progressed, and the following conversation ensued. [Note: All dialogue rendered verbatim.]

ME: See what I mean? Sounds a lot like Carpenter's "Look Through Any Window."

SHADY DAME: Yeah, absolutely.

ME: Of course, the Del Amitri song could have been a hit in 1965 also.

SHADY DAME: Well, except for one thing, obviously.

ME: What do you mean?

SHADY DAME: The girl in the song is gay. That might have been a problem back then.

ME: Gay? What are you talking about? She doesn't want him because he's not where it's at, i.e. he's not trendy enough. As he says "I don't have my finger on the pulse of my generation."

SHADY DAME: Uh Steve -- "The one girl I want, ain't easy to please with what I've got."

ME: Come on, that doesn't...

SHADY DAME: "The one girl I want, she wants that one bit of geography I lack..."

ME: Oy gevalt.

And there you have it, folks. It's official -- I'm the densest humanoid on the planet.

Seriously -- I can't believe I'd been singing along to that record for almost twenty years and never noticed the, uh, subtext.

PS: Here's a clip of that "Look Through Any Window" remake I mentioned up top.

I think you'll agree that's pretty freaking gorgeous, but if you try to tell me it's actually about voyeurism I'm gonna be very upset...😎