Post No. 1000 – Early Inspiration

MusicBookI’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about which record, song, or band related article of clothing could be worthy of the 1000th post milestone. I’d thought about an elaborate photo shoot involving mannequins, mood lighting, and every colored vinyl record I own, but quickly abandoned that scheme due to time and budget. So instead, I’m reaching back… WAY back to my elementary school years to one my most prized possessions, 1984’s The Music Book.

My grade school had a music house, an old, free-standing building acquired by the administration which was converted into a large singing and instrument-practicing box. From kindergarten through 6th grade, I’d shuffle across the street with my coworkers (classmates) and we’d put on our color-coded name tags and learn about the wondrous world of music. In the early years, before poorly attempting my hand (and lungs) at the alto sax, we’d sing various songs from the purple bible known as The Music Book. Rife with colorful illustrations and catchy, young crowd-pleasing songs, The Music Book sat in a long row on the North wall of the music house, and each grubby little troublemaker would grab one before taking his or her assigned seats. Our teacher, the lovely and talented Mrs. Fenske, would take roll call, then requests for which song the class wanted to sing first. At the Court of King Carraticus, It’s All Right to Cry, and The Lollipop Tree were all crowd favorites, and often sung every day. Carraticus

Now, I’m not sure if it was youthful innocence, the comic-like illustrations, or the music itself, but for a bunch of us, The Music Book meant so much more than just another text book. It represented a blameless and simple era of our lives inspired by the art of noise, and served as an open door to a lifelong appreciation for the medium. Because I’m a sentimental sap, I hold this book very dear to my heart. It is a symbol of purity, of animated gaiety, and I look back at that time with fervent admiration. For my love of music, I have Mrs. Fenske and The Music Book to thank. Tree

Ain’t No Disco Duck!

DeesNovelties and Rick Dees tended to go together back in the collar-popping 80s like disco and ducks. While the majority of radio-listening ‘Merica knows ol’ Dees for The Weekly Top 40, those select, demented few among us know him for Disco Duck, and those lonely, pathetic among us know him for his early 80s comedy albums. Released in 1984, this (anything but) Orwellian approach to subjects like glue sniffing, shorts-eating, and candid phone conversations (with mainstays of the day, Julio Iglesias and Michael Jackson) make Put it Where the Moon Don’t Shine something of a, let’s say “interesting” listen. Clearly capitalizing on his radio popularity, this album was actually not, I repeat, NOT a one-off, as it was the follow-up to his 1983 debut, Hurt Me Baby Make Me Write Bad Checks! I don’t have that one, but the cover alone makes me consider hunting it down. Disco Duck on the other hand…

It’s Just My Legs

TinaI never knew Ike, but as an adolescent fan of 80s pop radio (Madison, Wisconsin’s Z-104), I knew Tina Turner. I knew her for asking the simple, yet tough questions in life, like, what’s love got to do with it, and what’s love but second hand emotion? I still haven’t 100% figured that out, but I’m forced to humbly accept that fact.

LegsReleased in the Orwellian year of our lord, 1984, Private Dancer was hugely successful for this pop dragon, and proved to be one of Tina’s best selling albums (selling over 5 million copies). Four Grammy wins for Private Dancer, and this majestic beast would be forever cemented into the sponge-like minds of rural Wisconsin’s youth.

Buy the Ticket, Ride the Lightning

LightningIt’s difficult to comprehend that Ride the Lighting was released in 1984, or at least it’s a bit of a challenge for me to wrap my head around since I was only five at the time. When you consider the big, radio-friendly tracks de jour were Karma Chameleon, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Footloose, What’s Love Got to Do with It, and When Doves Cry, tracks like Trapped Under Ice, Creeping Death, and Fight Fire with Fire seem to resemble a refreshing iceberg floating amongst a sea of raging-radio hell. I didn’t go to the local shop expecting to Ride the Lighting, but for a cool $12, this guy here has his ticket in hand.

Country Death Song

hallowed ground… is an amazing tale of simpleminded, cold-winter-sickness, enveloped within a nightmare of rural, solemn depression, and disguised as a folk-pop song from the great state of Wisconsin (phew… I’m getting too old for the run-on sentence). Arguably the Violent Femmes’ best, most well-rounded track, Country Death Song depicts the extravagant path, a 1000mph highway drive straight past the gnarly gates of hell, and tells the tale of a one-way ticket of blameful sorrow for a troubled father and his shameful, selfless, fatherly actions. Is it a good song? Ye-ah! Is it a happy song? Nope! Merry Christmas eve, kiddos!

Well

Ocean Rain

Ocean_RainIt’s pouring here in The City of Angeles, and this comes as both a welcoming escape from the lingering summer, and a cloud-covered agricultural blessing (we needed the rain).

I’ll admit, that my knowledge of Liverpool’s Echo & the Bunnymen is that of an infant… an infant that has yet learned the art of speech. Although I picked today’s album in an attempt to reflect the current storm, listening to it now, Ocean Rain is a collection of pretty spot-on lullabies for under-umbrella adventures and puddle-jumping lollygagging, and pretty standard pop-fare for 1984.

Includes Love

LoveWe’re all Foreigners to someone, we all wanna know what love is, and we want you to show us. We desire to feel what love is, and we know you can show us. 1984’s Agent Provocateur knew love, and it wasn’t afraid to showcase this obsession by means of a silver and bold-red sticker on its gleaming, cellophane face (celloface? probably not). Yes I own a Foreigner album (two in fact), and yes, I’m okay with this.

Min Com

Minimal CompactIsraeli dark wavers Minimal Compact blend a compelling combination of Middle Eastern influences, a Westernized, early 80’s love for the sax, looming, almost destructive industrial loops and effects, propulsive bass, appropriate hints of what sounds like an antique squeezebox, and a flavor I can’t quite place that conjures up images of David Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch on this, Minimal Compact’s 1984 effort, Next One is Real. I’ve owned this EP for several years, it being a Wax Trax! Records release and all, but I’m now listening to it with what seems like virgin ears. I’m on my third, consecutive spin.

LabelThe snarling chants bellowing from the opener, Next One is Real, reminds me of a spry Douglas McCarthy from Nitzer Ebb and, although I’m an enormous fan of the Ebb, the progressive, rhythmic flow of Disc O’Dell’s remixed work on Next One is Real and Not Knowing eclipse even the greatest in Nitzer Ebb’s stunning catalogue. And just like that, Minimal Compact has swiftly become my newly acquired audio fixation.

Sick Rick Day 2

Mystic Sampler No. 1Still fighting off whatever head-pressing virus has decided to camp out amongst the deserted prairie that is my weakened immune system, today’s contagious groove come from the 1984 Mystic Records Sampler #1 and Ill Repute’s Book and It’s Cover.

The Nardcore kings of hardcore punk, Oxnard, CA’s Ill Repute come with an in-your-face approach to the classic conception, “don’t judge a book by its cover.” I’m desperately searching for ways with which to attribute this philosophical approach to the name of the band (Ill Repute) and my current haze (sickness), but alas… none doin’ (this medication is causing a thick cloud of fog to form between my ear canals).

Band BioI really hope I’m better by tomorrow… otherwise I’ll be forced to tackle one of the two remaining Ills: either Licenced to, or Communication.

“Yi wang si-i wa ye kan duo, Xin li bian yao la jing bao jin tian zhi, Dao. Anything goes.”

IndyMuch like the original Star Wars trilogy (the prequels be DAMNED!), the Indiana Jones trilogy (Crystal Skull be DOUBLE-DAMNED!!), possesses an obvious best, a least best, and a favorite. The painfully obvious best being Raiders, with the least best (in my opinion) being Last Crusade, leaves Doom as my all-time favorite Indy flick.

Om Namah Shivaya!

Indy LabelI was recently told, “All boys prefer Temple of Doom to Raiders.” I haven’t yet heard back from every Indy watching boy-child, so this claim has yet been verified. Whether you’re an idle-stealing Indy lover, a mining-car-roller-coaster-riding Indy, or father-son Indy, this 1984 Read-Along Adventure offers just the right amount of the infamous swashbuckling archeologist, in just the right amount of adventure-seeking time.

Did You Know?

DJ001Did you know that Adam “Ad-Rock” Horovitz of Beastie Boys fame wrote L.L. Cool J’s first single, I Need A Beat? Did you know that it was released in 1984, a full two years before the obnoxiously dominating full-length debut Licensed to Ill? Did you know that L.L. Cool was only 16 when he recorded this single?

Def JamDid you know that I Need A Beat was the debut record for the now prolific Def Jam Recordings, and is the owner of the coveted DJ001 catalog moniker? Did you know that this single, as well as L.L. Cool J’s 1985 full-length debut, Radio was produced by Rick Rubin? Did you know that Def Jam headquarters began and was run out of Rick Rubin’s NYU dorm room?

Well, now you do.

A Cabbage Patch Christmas

Cabbage Spatch“Man… how do you go from Johnny Cash to the Cabbage Patch Kids?!”

What can I say… I’m nothing if I’m not eclectic. Does that excuse me from owning A Cabbage Patch Christmas… probably (absolutely, most definitely) not. Is my head held high with the smug satisfaction that I can own any damn record I damn well please? Not really, but look at this cover! I mean, somebody, A TEAM, rather, drew up this idea, had meetings, scheduled a photo shoot where somebody, probably a poor PA was late due to a flat tire and was fired around the holidays. I’m sure there was a costume designer, a set builder, an Executive who complained that the snow didn’t look enough like “East Coast snow” (whatever the hell that means), there were probably lengthy discussions about what song the soulless field babies would sing, if the almost invisible lights in the bush and / or trees should be colored or Plain Jane boring white… and for what?! To sell dolls (read plastic and yarn).

Cabbage BackI’ve probably owned this record for several (10 or so) years, and I doubt I’ve ever listened to it. So, as I’m typing this and sucking down my morning brew, my virgin ears are (bleeding) being christened by somebody named Colonel Casey and a bunch of soil born kids, with decent singing ability (embrace it now, kid), as they meander through top 40 Christmas favs. Maybe my aging brain needs another round of hot genus coffea, but I don’t recall the Cabbage Patch Kids having such an outwardly southern feel. Banjos? Really? I mean, I’m all for banjos. I love Primus, but there’s just something about this album and the time it was put out (1984) that leaves me scratching my head (mainly because of an itch).

Alright. That’s it. Is Christmas over yet? No? Well, I hope it gets here soon. I’m running out of Christmas albums…

You Can Say There’s No Such Thing as Grandpa, But as for Me and Santa, We Believe

GrandmaA renowned classic throughout the family for as long as I can remember, Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer was, for many Christmases, the soundtrack to the season. Mix in a few Brandy Old Fashioneds, the light accumulation of snow, and a warm room heated up by a wood-burning furnace, and you’ve got a Norman Rockwell painting of my early Christmas years.

As a young, little, mischievous ankle-biter, I’d heard, and was familiar with the name, Elmo & Patsy. Patsy was my grandfather’s nickname for my grandmother, and now that I’m older, I wonder if it was derived from this album. He’d give her a hard time about something, playfully of course, and would always end his boisterous rant with Patsy. My grandmother would laugh, almost embarrassed, which would then set the room into a joyous ruckus. My grandfather was great at that… setting an infectious, and heartfelt fire to a room. I miss him, but will always remember the little details of family Christmases thanks, in part, to this song. Egga Cleva anyone?

Play it Loud, Mutha!

TSTwisted Sister, to a five-year-old in rural Wisconsin, was a bit of an eye-opening spectacle. Back before the (ridiculously) small town in which I grew up (1200 open air loving residents) collectively banned MTV from the township limits, the roots of my rebellious nature were beginning to seep into the ground of my shielded childhood. Twisted Sister’s classic video to We’re Not Gonna Take It was always a personal favorite, for many adolescent reasons, and it acts as a significant, early-adulthood bridge to the burgeoning days of my foolish innocence.

DeeSo, I’m an early 20-something attending the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee and working at Hollywood Video. Remember brick and mortar video stores? Neither do I. Anyway, I was closing up the store one hot, summer evening and a guy approached the check-out with a movie I’ve long since forgotten. I greeted this man with both a courteous smile, and curious stare. The man was Mark Metcalf, the legendary barking father from the We’re Not Gonna Take It video. I didn’t call him out, as you can possibly imagine, celebrities of any caliber, NEVER walk into a Hollywood Video on Milwaukee’s north side. I worked there for another year or so, and never saw Mr. Metcalf again, but I’ll never forget that immediate wave of childhood warmth felt only for those 30-odd seconds.

Look, I’m just gonna go on the record and say that Stay Hungry still holds up! I don’t care who mocks, scorns, maligns, or even shin-kicks. My favoritism towards Dee Snider, Mark Metcalf, Twisted Sister, and this striking album is not unlike a bonfire that’s been burning for nearly 30 years, and every delicate spin of this angst-ridden album adds more fuel to that never-ending flame.Play it Loud, Mutha!

Frankie Say War! Hide Yourself

AnnihalationIs that a Ronald Reagan look-alike grabbing his nether regions in apocalyptic agony? Why, yes, it is. Following the international success of their first single, Relax, Frankie Goes to Hollywood released the anti-war, half tongue-in-cheek, half a bit-too-close-to-home, funk-friendly dance anthem, Two Tribes.

Accompanied by an outrageous video, Two Tribes broke a whole bunch of UK chart records that, at the time, I was completely oblivious to. To be fair, in 1984 my daily routine consisted of dropping my Bespin Han Solo action figure from a covered bridge in a suicidal leap just in time for my electric train to speed by and run him over. Han survived, and was able to go on fighting the good fight (that was, until Joe & Cobra infiltrated my childhood just a few short years later).

ReaganFocusing on the hyper-exaggerated (he said jokingly) possibility of global nuclear war, Frankie & crew regurgitated a positive product from an extremely negative scenario. If you ask me, and you didn’t, Two Tribes withstood the test of time, and should serve as a welcome accompaniment to any record collection, regardless of which side of the fence your political beliefs may fall.

1984: This is Spinal Tap

Smell the GloveForget for a moment that This is Spinal Tap set the groundwork for the Mocumentary genre. Forget that the painfully hilarious string of films, Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, and A Mighty Wind were helmed by the great guitarist, Nigel Tufnel (Christopher Guest). What needs to be remembered, or rather, never forgotten, is that Nigel (Guest), David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) wrote, composed, and produced this dark, eminent, Hard Rocker. Given this remarkable wisdom, a profound question arises: It’s like, how much more black could this be? The answer: None. None more black.

Talk about bum cakes, my girl’s got ’em!

Other Tap AlbumsThis is Spinal Tap acts as a sort of “Greatest Hits” album, spanning from the band’s early British Rock days, Gimme Some Money, drudging through their brief psychedelic phase (Listen to the) Flower People, and leaning heavily on their more recent, epic-Hard Rock phase Tonight I’m Gonna Rock You Tonight, Rock and Roll Creation, Heavy Duty, and of course, the alluring Stonehenge. This genre-bending, zucchini-in-tin-foil-wrapping, cold-sore-getting, drummer-losing, airplane-hanger-playing, kickass-rock-and-roll band bet the (sex) farm on this album, and it paid off. Regardless of the genre, Spinal Tap give a perfect 11 on each and every song they record.

For those times when you’re in the mood to get rocked, Stonehenge-rocked like Stonehenge, Spinal Tap are your rock-and-roll saviors.

BTW, If anybody finds a decently priced LP of Intravenus de Milo, shoot me a line.

Electric Breakdance (Don’t Don’t Do It)

EB CoverThere are certain compilations that come out with the intent to capitalize on various social trends. The most popular of these could be the Nuggets compilation (a groovy series showcasing the one-hit-wonders of the bygone psychedelic days), the Now That’s What I Call Music! or simply Now! compilations (a grotesque series of comps for people who loath and despise everything creative about music), and those compilations that are hastily put together and distributed with the intent to sell as many copies as possible before the trend dies and becomes a stepping stone for the next “cool thing.” Electric Breakdance is, in my opinion, just about the best stepping stone compilation ever to hit the big city streets, and/or the hardwood floors of my parent’s living room.

Electric Breakdance was released with the intention of showcasing the techniques found within the art of breakdancing, while at the same time presenting a soundtrack of “the hottest breaking music on the street.” BUT, unlike many “As Seen on TV” comps, Electric Breakdance actually delivers with its 9 tracks of hard-hitting early 80’s Hip-Hop.

Breakdance HistoryFeatured on this break-tastic single LP are tracks by Run-D.M.C., Grandmaster Flash & Melle Mel, Whodini and a slew of other early Hip-Hop acts that I’m now bound to explore. The dopest track (is my rural Wisconsin showing?), or the smash single amongst an album of smash singles is Grandmaster Flash & Melle Mel’s White Lines (Don’t Don’t Do It), which is basically a song about freebasing. You’ve gotta’ love early 80’s radio.

It’s heartbreaking and extremely unfortunate that I don’t have the “giant detailed poser on how to break.” That little educational gem of early 80’s fashion would be nothing short of amazing framed on my living room wall (I’m sure my girlfriend would LOVE that).

Overall, Electric Breakdance was a welcoming surprise when I discovered it at a Goodwill, hiding between a Steven Stills LP and the soundtrack to Xanadu (both of which I also purchased). Although my breakdancing never left my parent’s smooth-spinning hardwood floors, the art of breaking will never be too far away from my heart.

Along with a brief write-up on the history of breakdance, the back cover offers the following disclaimer… in tiny print:

 If you have any ankle, knee, back or other physical problems, you should have a medical checkup before attempting the dances described in these materials. Parental supervision is advised for children who attempt these dances.