Simple Tricks and Nonsense

I'm having one of those downer days when I'm feeling nostalgic, wistful, a bit melancholy... yes, I mean moreso than usual, you bunch of smart alecks! One of these days, I oughta...

Anyhow, I've been thinking the last couple of days about relatively obscure songs that I used to like and haven't heard in many years, trying to remember their titles and track them down in some form or another. Here's one of those songs, Dennis DeYoung's "Desert Moon," which seems to perfectly match my mood today. I don't think I've ever seen this video before now. It's pretty cheeseball, what with the bad acting, occasional patches of banal dialog, and DeYoung's purple big-block-plaid shirt (actually, I always liked those large-patterned plaids back in the day, but even I have to admit that it looks pretty dated in 2008). Still... I like the song, and on days like this when you can feel the summer heat gradually draining out of the world and autumn lurking just over there in the shadows, I like to listen to this sappy old stuff. Maybe you will, too...

Posted by at 2:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ah, Saturday morning. Blessed Saturday morning. You know how I know I've been spending too much time at the office lately? Because cutting my lawn -- an obligatory chore I usually perform only grudgingly -- was actually kind of pleasant this week.

You know what else is kind of pleasant? Making lists and doing memes. Yeah, I know I was bitching yesterday about how I've only been able to do memes and photos lately instead of writing real blog entries -- whatever those may be -- but you know what? I like doing memes, and I'm in a better mood today.

Once again, this is a meme I borrowed from SamuraiFrog, who seems to be finding all the best meme-age lately. In this one, you go to a particular website and enter your birthday to find out what the Number One song was that day, according to Billboard, for every year you've been alive. Commentary is apparently not required, but you know me...

One brief proviso: I haven't paid much attention to popular music in years, not since Cobain and all those other throat-singing, flannel-clad mopes from Seattle turned rock into a dirge and hip-hop claimed ascendency on the pop charts. Which means I don't recognize many of these titles until we get back quite a few years. Yeah, I know, I'm an old fart. For the record, I'm listening to Janis Joplin as I type this, so take from that what you will.

Anyhow:

Continue reading "Thirty-Eight Number Ones" »

Posted by at 10:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

You know, every time I'm close to despair over the fact that all the pop culture I loved in my youth is now being remade, re-imagined, mashed-up, or just plain forgotten, and that nothing really ever seems to stand the test of time, least of all the crap I like, I'll hear an anecdote that restores my faith, however briefly, that all is not lost...

Continue reading "Maybe There's Still Hope for the Dang Kids..." »

Posted by at 4:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Just to prove Mojo Nixon's theory that Elvis is everywhere, have a look at this Roman sculpture dating to the 2nd Century AD:

Kind of eerie, eh? According to this article, this bust that bears such an uncanny resemblance to the one and only King of Rock and Roll is something called an acroterion, "a kind of architectural ornament often found for decoration on the corners of a sarcophagus, a stone tomb or burial chamber."

Hm. A burial chamber? So perhaps this is a likeness of someone inside the burial chamber? And how could a man who died 1,800 years ago... look like Elvis? There are those who believe that Elvis was some kind deity... but let us not go there. A more likely theory -- which explains a great many things about the truly weird life of Mr. Presley -- is that he wasn't entirely human. Think of it: an entire planet of Elvii who come here in their rhinestone-bedazzled spacecraft every century or so to try and teach our mortal species the wisdom of the universe... or perhaps there was only one Elvis, our Elvis, but he didn't really die in the bathroom of Graceland in '77 as everyone believes, he just quantum-leaped to another time and place... ancient Rome, say, where he became a man of sufficient wealth and influence to have an acroterion carved in his likeness.

Or perhaps this is a very silly blog entry being written by a man who ought to be putting his time to better use.

Me, I'm going with the Planet of the Elvii theory.

Via.

Posted by at 9:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

And tonight's entertainment is:

You know, at this rate, I'll have managed to see all those '80s bands I missed back in high school by the end of this decade...

Posted by at 4:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If Rick Springfield isn't your thing, perhaps you'd prefer some classical?

Posted by at 1:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

That new Journey CD I mentioned a couple days ago is a great summertime listen, but the album I'm really waiting for -- man, that feels weird to even think, let alone admit, because this is the first time in a very long time that I've actually been anticipating a new music release -- is Venus in Overdrive, the latest from my main man, Rick Springfield. It's not hitting stores and online sellers until July 29, but the first single from it, "What's Victoria's Secret," is already peeking out from behind the curtain: The Girlfriend heard a few seconds of it on the radio yesterday, and I've just found the video below. This may or may not be the "official" video -- I'm not sure if this is just a performance on some TV show or if this is the actual promo clip made to go with the song -- but give it a click anyhow and see what you think:

I like it -- there's a definite "Jessie's Girl" vibe there, but that's okay by me, and it suggests that maybe Rick is trying to get back onto the charts after a long time in the wilderness. The press release for Venus confirms that he's going for a more light-hearted, radio-friendly sound than his recent efforts (shock/denial/anger/acceptance was a great album and a fine artistic achievement, but song titles like "Every Night I Wake Up Screaming," "Your Psychopathic Mother," and "Idontwantanythingfromyou" don't exactly appeal to a mass audience, you know?), with Rick even going so far as to refer to the new album as "Son of Working Class Dog." Hopefully that's a good descriptor of what the fans are likely to be hearing shortly: some good-time pop-rock with strong hooks and maybe just a hint of grit around the edges. (Working Class Dog was, of course, Rick's big breakthrough record, the one that spawned "Jessie's Girl" and a couple of other singles; it was also the very first LP I ever owned, and lyrically a bit darker and more grown up than most people remember.)

In any event, it's shaping up to be a great summer, musically speaking at least...

Posted by at 11:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

If you've been scratching your head all weekend, pondering the meaning of the previous entry, allow me to explain now: on Friday night, The Girlfriend and I went to something that seems to be turning into an annual event for us, a little thing we like to call "the Old Fart Triple-Threat Summer Nostalgia Party-time Concert™." As you may recall, last year's line-up consisted of The Stray Cats, The Pretenders, and ZZ Top. This year, it was Cheap Trick, Heart, and Journey. Yes, I'm well aware I have the musical tastes of a mullet-headed, Camaro-lovin' fifteen-year-old from the year 1985. Did you have a point?

Anyhow, to be honest, we almost didn't go to this one. We only bought our tickets a week beforehand, following about a month of conversations that were all variants on the theme of, "Do you want to go?" and "I dunno, do you want to go?" What finally clinched it for us was picking up Journey's latest album, the aptly named Revalation. It's their first release featuring their new lead singer, Arnel Pineda, and it is, in a word, incredible. Sonically, it could've been recorded at the band's peak 25 years ago, and yet the songs are deeper than anything on Escape or Frontiers -- it's the same old sound, but now coming from a more mature place, and it's immensely appealing if you like these older bands. I've had it on nearly constant rotation in my car the last couple of weeks. Even so, it was Anne -- who I must remind everyone was always a New Wave girl back in the day, and is most definitely not an aging rocker like me -- who finally said she really wanted to see Arnel live, based on the bonus DVD that comes with Revelation. We managed to find some reasonably decent seats, considering how late we finally made up our minds, and we were off...

Continue reading "Some Will Win, Some Will Lose... Some Are Born to Sing the Blues" »

Posted by at 9:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

No, really, just try... give a shot...

Posted by at 10:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I don't know if teenage boys still go through a phase where they're obsessed with comedy albums -- my guess would be "not," since the "album" is an endangered species these days, and stand-up doesn't appear to be quite the cultural force it used to be -- but back in my increasingly far-off youth, it was almost as if every thirteen-year-old male in the country was issued one at the door as he left that infamously awkward, boys-only puberty lecture in seventh grade. You know, the one where red-faced PE coaches mumbled dire warnings about how we were going to start "noticing hair in new places" and we'd need to start showering every day if we wanted girls to like us. Maybe the comedy album was supposed to be a consolation prize for having just been made to feel impossibly icky about our own bodily functions. Here's a record, kid; go listen to somebody making fun of the stuff you'll be obsessing over for the next few years.

We all had our favorite comedians in the middle-school crucible of the 1980s. As I recall, my buddy Keith liked the absurdities of Steve Martin, while my neighbor Kurt Stephensen grooved on the earthy 'n' crude acts like Richard Pryor and the up-and-coming Eddie Murphy. I liked those guys just fine, but my comedy hero during those harrowing early-teen years was George Carlin.

Continue reading "In Memoriam: George Carlin" »

Posted by at 11:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

It's currently 94 degrees in the SLC, and there's a gaggle of bare-chested, tattoo'd, and be-pierced skateboard punks sprawled on the plaza outside my building, in the shade near the fountain. I think it's safe to say that summer has finally arrived.

To celebrate the arrival (which I'll no doubt be cursing a month from now when 94 becomes 104), let's have a listen to one of my favorite tunes, a golden oldie that always makes me think of summer for some reason, "Be My Baby" by Ronnie Spector and The Ronettes. The year was 1965, before most of us were born, kids:

Ronnie was a sexy little thing, wasn't she? In a mid-Sixties, big-haired sort of way. Not that there was anything wrong with that at the time.

As a special bonus, here's another summertime song that featured Ronnie twenty years after "Be My Baby," Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight," from 1986:

Talk about big hair...

Posted by at 3:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I was planning to write today about that big fire at Universal Studios a couple weeks ago, and how annoying it is that most of the media coverage has centered on the loss of backlot sets and tourist attractions that can be rebuilt, while ignoring or downplaying the far more significant loss of hundreds of 35mm film prints spanning the entire history of both Universal's and Paramount's catalogs. (The original elements are safely stored elsewhere, but given the expense of striking new prints and the industry's determined march toward all-digital exhibition, it is unlikely that most of the affected movies will ever again be seen the way they were meant to be, i.e., projected by means of light shining through a strip of actual film, and I -- being the unabashed analog-phile that I am -- find that unutterably sad.)

I also thought I'd comment on the sad reports that one of the classiest guys ever to grace a movie screen, the legendary Paul Newman, is fighting cancer.

But you know what? After all the crapstorms I've weathered the last couple of weeks, I've about had it with the doom 'n' gloom stuff, so why don't we just watch a fun video clip? The audio here is William Shatner performing Pulp's "Common People" -- stop rolling your eyes, this is actually a good song, a cut off The Shat's album Has Been, which I found to be a surprise in about a dozen different ways, not least of which is how much it doesn't suck -- and the video is footage from the old animated Star Trek series, an early-70s Saturday morning classic. Enjoy:

I love how the mouth movements actually kinda-sorta synch up with the vocals, at least as well as they ever did back on Saturday mornings. As for that last scene with Kirk and Spock... well, that's why these two have an entire genre of homoerotic fanfiction named after them.

Posted by at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Catching up with the news, I see the Hollywood obituary list has been unusually long the last couple weeks. They say these things always come in threes, but there have been seven notable passings recently: a renowned actor-director, a composer, three of the men who made the original Star Trek into the classic it is, one of the funniest comedy straight men who ever lived, and a seminal blues-rock guitarist. Chances are you've all already heard about these, but I'd like to mention them anyhow...

Continue reading "In Memoriam: Super-Jumbo Edition!" »

Posted by at 11:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I was listening to one of my old Jimmy Buffett CDs yesterday, and a couple of lines from the song "Pencil-Thin Mustache" grabbed my attention:

Now I'm gettin' old, don't wear underwear
I don't go to church and I don't cut my hair
But I can go to movies and see it all there
Just the way that it used to be

It's weird when something seems to have been written exclusively for you, isn't it? I mean... how did he know? Well, aside from the bit about the underwear. I'm not a fan of chafing...

Posted by at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Coming home tonight after a late evening out, I was thinking about this song:

That's Pat Benatar's "Shadows of the Night," if you don't know it. I've always liked this one; it's probably my favorite Benatar tune, even though it was one of her lesser hits and seems to be somewhat unknown these days (at least, I rarely hear it out there in the world; whenever the oldies station -- sigh -- plays a Benatar song, it's almost invariably either "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" or "Love Is a Battlefield"). I groove on its combination of romantic melody and rock 'n' roll bombast, I guess. I vaguely remembered the video showed her in a cockpit singing into an old-fashioned microphone, but wow, it turns out to be quite the little epic, doesn't it?

A couple of thoughts:

• I don't know what kind of planes are featured in Pat's daydream, but they're not P-51 Mustangs, as shown on that poster she's looking at in the framing scenes.
• This was made in 1982, the year after Raiders of the Lost Ark came out. Could the Nazi theme have possibly been inspired by Raiders' success? It seem like there were a lot of Nazis and 1930s/1940s things in pop culture around that time, but did Raiders begin that or was it merely another example of the same zeitgeist?
• Did you catch Judge Reinhold and Bill Paxton as the pilot in the red cap and the Nazi radio operator, respectively?
• And finally, is it just me or are women in 1940s-style flying gear damn sexy? Maybe it's me...

Posted by at 2:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A couple of days ago, I brought you the wonder of a Japan-ified "Smoke on the Water." Now as a little Saturday morning wake-me-up I present The Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop" played -- quite well, incidentally -- by two guys with ukeleles. Why? I dunno... it just amuses me:

Posted by at 8:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The text that didn't get reproduced from the quiz site (and which inspired the title of this entry) reads: "You are a Master! You're either an old man or a serious throwback!"

Um, yeah. We won't comment any further on that...

Posted by at 4:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

In honor of Salt Lake's fourth annual Japanese Festival this Saturday, here's an example of cross-cultural pollination that you simply have to experience to believe:

Cheerfully ganked from Javi.

Posted by at 9:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

This morning as I was driving over to the train station, I heard the song "Jessie's Girl" by my main man Rick Springfield... on KODJ. That's the local oldies station, if you don't know.

Then, coming home on the train tonight, I was serenaded by a couple of sweaty, pubescent twelve-year-old boys with dumb haircuts who were wearing baggy jeans and way-oversized hoodies covered in skulls. They were singing "I'm Turning Japanese."

I honestly don't know which of these two events made me feel more over the hill.

At least the kids weren't being mocking or ironic -- they were, in fact, behaving like this moldy chestnut was a really cool and funny song. Which it is. And at least Rick's back on the radio somewhere.

I'm rationalizing, aren't I?

Sigh. I'm going to go put on a sweater and lay in a supply of rocks for chasing the damn kids off my lawn...

Posted by at 9:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ah, the awful work day is over. Let's talk about something a bit more uplifting, shall we? How about television?

The late, lamented Futurama has always been something of a conundrum for me. It's a show I really wanted to like: an animated science fiction/comedy series created by the guy who brought us The Simpsons, a spoof of and loving homage to all the futuristicky space crap I've always loved, a niche thing that appeals only to a particular elite (read: cult) who actually recognize all the subtle nods to the big SF films and TV of the last 40 years. Oh, and it features the voice talents of the lovely Katey Sagal, a.k.a. Peggy Bundy from Married with Children, one of my guilty pleasures for years. How could I not love Futurama?

I don't know, but somehow I don't. The overall design of the show -- the look of the environment, the Galaxy Express spaceship, the characters -- amuses me, and I occasionally snicker at the sociopathic robot Bender or the frankly bizarre Dr. Zoidberg, but I don't very often laugh deeply, not the way I do at The Simpsons or some other sitcoms. Hell, I find Two and a Half Men a lot funnier than Futurama. (I don't know if that says more about Futurama or me, though, and I don't know that it's something I ought to be admitting, either...).

I do, however, love Futurama's opening credits. Like the title sequence for The Simpsons, this sequence is a tour of the world in which the show takes place, set to a catchy, somewhat goofy theme song. Also like The Simpsons, the opening credits for Futurama feature a gag that changes every episode, in this case the text under the main title itself. Here's a typical example:

But's here's an interesting bit of trivia for you: that theme song is apparently based on a much older piece of music. Naturally, somebody out there on the InterWebs has tracked down that piece of music and made it available to the entire world... click through for more!

Continue reading "The Original Futurama Theme" »

Posted by at 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

There were a couple of deaths last week that I feel I need to mention.

Continue reading "In Memoriam: Jeff Healey and Gary Gygax" »

Posted by at 6:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

For the record, I consider U2 to be one of the most overrated bands of the last two centuries.

That remark is based, of course, on the fact that the active phase of their career stretches across both sides of Y2K -- there's a term you haven't thought about in a while, I'll bet! -- and not because I think U2 sucks hard enough to make them stand out against the vast catalog of recordings that 200 years would encompass, if there actually was 200 years worth of recorded music. Which there isn't, because recording technology is only 131 years old. But that's beside the point, because as I said, U2 doesn't suck that hard. I actually do like a good bit of their music, at least enough of it to warrant buying the basic greatest hits package that was released a few years back.

However, I've never understood the intense, near-religious devotion so many of my acquaintances seem to feel for these guys. A couple of my co-workers speak of Bono as if the man can make the blind see and the lame walk simply through the awesomeness of his blue wraparound shades or something, and, well, I just don't get it. In fact, I so don't get it that I find it rather distasteful. C'mon, people! The band has a unique sound, but I don't think their lyrics are profound so much as opaque (occasionally bordering on the tedious), and I also tend to distrust the sincerity of rock stars with causes. But maybe I'm just an old grump that way.

What I do get is, though, is the power of iconic imagery, and there's no denying that U2's biggest album, The Joshua Tree, was graced by some beautiful and unforgettable photography that remains instantly recognizable and evocative even 20 years later. And that's why, despite my ambivalence about the band itself, I found this site so interesting. I love comparing "then and now" photos of changing landscapes, and when they're familiar landscapes, as these are, my emotional reaction to the changes can sometimes be unexpectedly strong.

Which is my way of saying that I felt rather bad to learn that the Joshua tree has died and toppled over...

Posted by at 3:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Heh. This amuses me... according to the gossip site TMZ.com:

Tom Scholz, founder of rock group Boston, wants Mike Huckabee to quit using "More Than a Feeling" as a campaign anthem... because Scholz is an Obama guy, and Huckabee is "the polar opposite" of what Boston stands for.

Funny, I always thought Boston stood for Camaros and excellent doobage... but then I really can't imagine Mike Huckabee enjoying either of those things, so I guess Tom's statement does make sense, doesn't it?

Posted by at 3:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

And now for something completely unrelated to Indiana Jones (no doubt my Three Loyal Readers are rejoicing at those words), a meme stolen from Javi. It's one of those musical memes that seemed to be so popular a few years ago, when iTunes and iPods were the hot new deal. Up until fairly recently, I've been unable to participate in these memes as I remained stubbornly iTunes-less, but I've finally been assimilated into the intangible music paradigm. Well, I've got iTunes on my home and work machines, anyhow; I still don't have much motivation to shell out my hard-earned cubits for an iPod. But then I always have been a late adopter.

Anyhow, here's the meme. It's probably worth keeping in mind that these results come from the version of iTunes I have on my work computer, so it's based on the very specific (and generally pretty mellow) handful of CDs I've bothered to bring into the office with me. Or maybe that doesn't matter. I don't know... either way, enjoy the useless trivia...

Continue reading "iTunes Meme" »

Posted by at 1:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Over on the Whatever tonight, Scalzi asks, "What’s a song you love that you think no one else knows about?"

I scanned my brain for the most obscure old song I could think of and came up with a little ditty called “My Girl (Gone, Gone, Gone)” by a Canadian band named Chilliwack. This was one of the first 45s I ever bought way back in the early ’80s, right after "Jessie's Girl" and "Another One Bites the Dust." As my loyal readers can no doubt guess, I still have the vinyl, but I haven't listened to it in years. (I keep thinking that someday I ought to invest in a phonograph again and give all my old platters a spin, just to remind myself of what music used to sound like; it's been so long since I played an actual record...)

A couple of years ago, after much searching, I finally tracked down a CD compilation that included the song. It’s not quite the masterpiece my twelve-year-old self believed it to be, but it's still got a dang catchy hook, and I love the early '80s pop-rock sound. Those were the days, baby. And wouldn't you know it, there's a video for it on YouTube. Apparently, I am not the only person who knows about this tune after all. Oh, well... can't win 'em all, I suppose. Enjoy a little blast from the past:

Posted by at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I don't pay a whole lot of attention to current music -- in the time-honored tradition of grumpy old farts throughout history, I tend to think it all went to hell after my teen and young-adult years -- but every once in a while, a song comes along that's so ubiquitous, it manages to penetrate even my indifference. There was such a song last summer, a sweet and catchy little ditty that I quite liked called "Hey There Delilah" by the Plain White T's.

I found out today that there really is a Delilah, specifically a young lady named Delilah DiCrescenzo. Tom Higgenson, the lead singer for the Plain White T’s, met her several years ago and, in an effort to impress her, he promised to write a song for her. She had a boyfriend, so their romance went nowhere, but he nevertheless kept his promise. The song became the band's break-out hit and has been nominated for a Grammy. And Delilah is finally going to go out with him, as his date for the Grammy ceremony. She still has a boyfriend so they're going strictly as friends, but even with that little imperfection, I find this story simply charming. It'd make a good plot for a movie, actually...

Details are here, if you're interested. And I'll give a Stan Lee-style "no-prize" to the first loyal reader who can tell me where this entry's title derives from...

Posted by at 5:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

How is it possible that Dick Clark, some 40 years older, debilitated by a stroke, and struggling mightily to make himself intelligible when he speaks, still has more zest and personality in his presentation than that human piece of melba toast Ryan Seacrest? I guess the old cliche is true: they really don't make 'em like they used to...

Posted by at 1:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

As I mentioned the other day, this is the time when everybody starts recapping the previous 12 months, trying to gain some perspective on the year just winding down or at the very least remember just what exactly has gone on lately. In that spirit of recollection, have a look at this:

Love those boys at JibJab. Extra credit to them for playing off Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire," a song that I always loved because I knew what more of the events referenced in the lyrics actually were than my friends did. (I'm all about establishing my own intellectual superiority.) In fact, I think Billy ought to revisit that tune once a decade or so, to keep it all up to date. Think of it, Billy Joel, the keeper of recent American history! That's a much more impressive title than mere musician...

(Hat tip to Brian Greenberg, who probably found this specifically because of the Billy Joel connection. It is your destiny, Brian...)

Posted by at 1:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

A Beatles tribute group doing "Stairway to Heaven" in the style of the Ed Sullivan-era Fab Four? It's like a message from the Bizarro World, or that alternate universe where Spock has a beard; everything seems familiar, except it's so very, very wrong... just watch it and tell me if this isn't one of the stranger things you've ever seen and/or heard...

Posted by at 11:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

When I heard last night that the singer-songwriter Dan Fogelberg had died, I immediately had a powerful memory flash -- not just a mere run-of-the-mill recollection that's as two-dimensional as an old postcard, but one of those strange and rare experiences when it seems as if time and space become malleable and, for just one brief instant, you are someplace else, someplace you haven't been in a very long time. In this case, I was 13 or 14 years old, riding in the top bunk of our old camper as the truck beneath it carved through the darkness. I don't remember where we were going, or maybe it was where we'd been; Dad used to drive the truck-and-camper around town all the time, so it might not have been anywhere special. I can't see anything beyond the front window except a cone of highway caught in the headlights. In my imagination, the white lines flashing past on the pavement are doppler-distorted stars seen from a starship clicking along at point-five past lightspeed. I'm reading a Clive Cussler paperback, and on my amazing little Sony Walkman -- that was a type of portable music player in the pre-iPod days, kids -- I'm listening to a cassette of Dan Fogelberg's Greatest Hits.

Continue reading "The Leader of the Band is Tired..." »

Posted by at 9:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

So, one of the songs on that list of my favorite Christmas tunes I put together a year ago is an obscure little ditty called "Christmas is the Time to Say I Love You" by arena rocker Billy Squier. Something got me thinking about that song earlier today, so naturally I thought I'd poke around the InterWebs and see what I could come up with. I found the following clip, a "live" performance of the song Billy gave on MTV along with "the MTV chorus," i.e., anybody around the cable net's offices who was willing to appear on camera. It's a fun little video, full of genuine -- if goofy -- cheer, and if you remember the early days of music videos and the "vee-jays" who introduced them, you'll no doubt recognize some faces in the crowd. I gotta say, though... that sweater that Billy is wearing... oy. You'll never find a bigger apologist for the eccentric fashions of the Reagan Years -- I love and miss that decade with a fierce passion, and I'd still have my mullet and Members Only jacket if I could -- but that sweater goes beyond even my pale...

Posted by at 11:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So, I've been thinking all day about that Starfighter video game, specifically about how truly weird it is that somebody bothered to make one and that people -- at least a few people -- are moved to talk about it here in the year 2007, some 23 years down the road from the movie's release.

Look at this way: the guys who made that game, the bloggers who've posted about it, and the people who read those blogs are all using technologies that would've sounded almost as science-fictiony back in 1984, the year The Last Starfighter was released, as the idea of aliens recruiting Earth kids to fight in interstellar wars, which is that movie's premise. The Internet is arguably one of the most revolutionary gadgets our species has ever come up with, and what do we mostly use it for? Besides distributing pictures of naked girls, I mean? To commemorate, reproduce, disseminate, and obsess over pop-cultural artifacts that are two or three decades old. In other words, we're using this very futuristic tech to talk about stuff from the past. Does that strike anyone else as weird?

I've been gradually formulating an idea over the past several months, largely in response to all the recent remakes of movies that I loved as a kid, that popular culture seems to have frozen -- some would probably say "stagnated" -- somewhere around the end of the 1980s. Oh, sure, a lot of original work is still being produced, but the stuff that really gets people talking all stems from a roughly 25-year period -- let's say 1966-1989 -- that ended a generation ago.

Continue reading "The End of Pop Culture?" »

Posted by at 11:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This one took a little effort, but you kids are worth it: earlier this afternoon, my buddy Dave sent me a link to a short blog entry which reads as follows:

If you're a child of the 1980s, you're no doubt well aware of the movie The Last Starfighter, the fantasy epic about a videogame lovin' kid in a trailer park who's recruited by aliens as a gunner an intergalactic battle. I mean, based on that short description alone how can you not think the movie is awesome? The only problem is that the Last Starfighter game was never actually released. As crazy as it is, Atari developed the game but never released it for some reason. Talk about not following through on capitalizing on ancillary markets and product tie-ins.

Well, 23 years later the game has finally seen the light of day. Sure, its tech specs are less than impressive at this point, but you can't beat the nostalgia value. It was custom-built into a cabinet that looks exactly like the one from the movie, but if you want to try it in the comfort of your own home you can now download the game as a simple exe file. Who knows, maybe you'll be recruited if you try it out and are good enough.

Hmm, thinks I, this is intriguing. I remember liking The Last Starfighter back in the day. I would've been about 14 when it came out, and it was a perfect little piece of summertime adolescent wish fulfillment; what disaffected teen hasn't dreamed of discovering they have some remarkable talent that will enable them to save the day? Or, in the case of Alex Rogan, the protagonist of TLS, the universe? The summer of '84 was also the golden age of my interest in video gaming, so naturally I thought it be totally awesome to play a for-real arcade game just like the one in the flick. And now someone has finally made such a game? Awesome! Where do I click for more information? I tried here, the link referenced in the blog entry I quote above. Nope, not the source of this story, just another blog:

Who didn't walk out of The Last Starfighter -- yep, the Lance Guest movie from the '80s -- hoping to find a Starfighter game in the arcade? Sadly, the game was never produced. But some guys over at Rogue Synapse recreated a playable version of the actual game from the movie -- it's a free download -- and offer drawings of the movie-prop game cabinet. Add a little MAME ingenuity and you've got yourself the arcade you dreamed of as a kid. (Just don't leave me behind if Centauri comes for you first.)

Okay, now we're getting somewhere, a destination at last... and I'll be darned if the screen caps of the game these guys have cooked up don't look just like what I remember from the movie. Very impressive indeed... personally, I can't imagine having enough dedication to any movie to spend the time and effort needed to develop a game, let alone build a cabinet to house it, but I am utterly blown away that someone out there has. It's so easy to imagine myself walking up to this thing in the middle of a dark, cacophonous room that smells of sweat and ozone, a heavy wad of quarters dragging my pants pocket all out of shape, only moments away from becoming the hero of the story behind the screen, and in my own mind... sometimes I really miss being 14.

Posted by at 11:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

So, I'm just plugging away at today's stack o' work in the New Proofreaders' Cave as a cold front sweeps into the valley and paints the sky the color of lead. I'm listening to ye olde iTunes, a little of my man Rick, and I thought I'd share the one I coming back to:

I look around me and I see what I wanted and what I settled for
Yeah, I've got the heart of a Joan of Arc but the soul of a gigolo.
I've been good at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.
Anytime I stopped to smell the roses they drew blood from me.
Do you know what I mean?
You never ever get away clean. But it's alright,
Yeah, touchdown, turn around, flag on the play.

It's always something, you know it is, it's always something,
It's always something, everyday, it's always something.

When I was a kid the teachers and the priests said,
"Why do you let him run around like that?"
My father said, "If the boy wants to play guitar, I say we let him."
Through the hard years he was my rock
when I just could not win.
So it goes y'know my father died
just before my leaky ship came in.

Do you know what I mean?
You never ever get away clean. Oh, but it's alright yeah.
Down one, homerun, your dog steals the ball.

I step up to the table in the middle of my life
and I take my cards and I check them twice.
I've got a killer hand and I'm ready to stake my claim,
the cops raid the game.

...it's always something

That's a great song, "It's Always Something" (sometimes rendered as "itsalwayssomething"), from the 1999 album Karma. It's heavily autobiographical, and not nearly as melancholy as the lyrics alone probably make it sound. The image it conjures in my mind is of a middle-aged guy who's been seriously knocked around by the universe but is still standing and somehow managing to soldier on. Which is what Rick Springfield is, and I guess it's what I am, too, at the moment. It certainly seems to fit my mood this afternoon.

My day job has been slightly less overwhelming recently, but I'm still feeling pretty frazzled, and like I'm not accomplishing much outside of keeping the bills paid. Not much of any substance anyhow, as my recent blog entries no doubt demonstrate. There are so few hours in the day, and so many projects both at the office and at home that need my attention, and my attention span seems to be down to about a tenth of a second these days.

None of which anyone cares about, probably. Welcome to the grown-up world, Bennion. Yeah, yeah, I know. It's a great song, anyhow. Give it a download, or whatever you kids do these days.

Posted by at 1:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Via Cheno, here's a highly entertaining music video featuring Christopher Walken dancing to Fatboy Slim's "Weapon of Choice." Sure, you've probably seen it before, but watch it again. It'll make you smile:

You know, it's really a shame that Walken is so often typecast as a violent loon, or otherwise freaky characters, because he really is wonderfully charismatic and funny when he's given a chance to be. And, as this clip demonstrates, he can dance. If someone were to attempt to revive the old-fashioned Fred Astaire-style song-and-dance picture, I can totally see him starring...

Posted by at 10:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As best I can recall, my introduction to the medium of comic books came when I was six years old. I was home from school, sick in bed with a bad cold or the flu or something. My dad went to the local drugstore to get some medicine, and when he returned, he also had with him a little treat that he hoped would cheer me up, or at least distract me in between puking sessions: a pair of what he called "funnybooks." Which confused me, because they weren't funny. But that's beside the point. One was a collection of stories about Superman and his various friends, cousins, and pets. The other (which I found much more appealing, probably due to the semi-lurid cover art) was an issue of a series called Marvel Team-Up.

As the title suggests, the premise of this series was to combine two or more characters who wouldn't have ordinarily crossed paths in their own titles, and then send them off on an adventure together. In the issue my dad got for me -- which somehow is the only one of this series I've ever read -- the action was played straight. Apparently, however, not every issue was so serious:

Spider-Man and the cast of Saturday Night Live? Wow, I've got to track that one down... that's got to be a hoot. Especially if you read it drunk, which is probably how it was written. Click the pic to go to the image source and a synopsis.

Incidentally, I understand that most issues of Marvel Team-Up were self-contained stories. Naturally, that lone issue my dad got me, the only one I've ever read -- which, to no one's surprise I'm sure, I still have -- was one of the rare two-parters. To this day, I have idea how Spidey manages to free the Scarlet Witch from Cotton Mather's foul mind-controlling cross-power...

Posted by at 9:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Well, I've been been accomplishing nothing fast on this lovely Saturday afternoon. The Girlfriend is spending the weekend at her parents' place out in Tooele and I was planning to take care of all kinds of mundane jobs around the Compound that I keep putting off, but instead I've spent much of the day puttering around my office, surfing the web, IM'ing with some buddies, and listening to Pandora.com. (That's been a strange journey today. The algorithms that supposedly determine your tastes started me off with Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn"; now, three hours later, I'm listening to Ozzy Osbourne. That either says something about me, or about Pandora, and I haven't been able to decide which...)

You know what, though? I'm okay with not having done anything noteworthy today. It's felt damn good to just screw around, actually. I've been something of a stress-kitten lately, and I've been suffering for it (briefly, I carry my tension in my back and I also tend to sleep in awkward positions, and those two variables reached critical mass about a week ago and left me with a kinked neck that I couldn't turn to the left without yelping in pain). Well, I just realized that nothing hurts at the moment, for the first time in days. It's luxurious, and it goes a long way toward assuaging my conscience.

And if that's not enough, I've found some amusing stuff out there today, which I will share with you below the fold:

Continue reading "Random 'Net Crap on a Saturday Afternoon" »

Posted by at 6:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)