rolling with the years

Pal Ken unearthed a pretty interesting musical meme, and because I have never been one to shy away from a quick and dirty source of content, I've decided to use it as the basis of today's post.

So here it is, an annotated list of the songs that topped the Billboard Hot 100 charts on every March 13 since I emerged from the womb on that date in 1972. It's a countdown to the End Times which offers clear proof that "popular" does not necessarily equal "good."

1972 - "Without You" by Nilsson - And thus I entered this world bloody, screaming, and to the tune of calcium-leeching soft rock.

1973 - "Killing Me Softly with His Song" by Roberta Flack - Even soul was affected by the power of the 1970's.

1974 - "Seasons in the Sun" by Terry Jacks - Is it any wonder I took to punk rock as strongly as I did?

1975 - "Have You Never Been Mellow" by Olivia Newton-John - The de facto anthem for the Me Decade.

1976 - "December 1963 (Oh, What a Night)" by The Four Seasons - Attempting to escape the malaise via fuzzy nostalgia.

1977 - "Evergreen (Love Theme from A Star Is Born)" by Barbra Streisand - Fuck you, record buying public of 1977.

1978 - "(Love Is) Thicker Than Water" by Andy Gibb - And the effects of cocaine abuse are stronger than cardiac muscle.

1979 - "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gaynor - Saturday Night Götterdämmerung!

1980 - "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen - I can handle a little Mercury every now and again.

1981 - "I Love a Rainy Night" by Eddie Rabbit - "When the stars were right, They could plunge from the C&W chart to the Hot 100; but when the stars were wrong, They would remain in their own genre subdomain. But although They were no longer on Top 40 radio, They would never really pass from public consciousness..." - The Call of Cnt'ry'mu'zk

1982 - "Centerfold" by the J. Geils Band - I've already discussed the personal significance of this song here.

1983 - "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson - It was a given that this musical journey was going to pass through Neverland at some point.

1984 - "Jump" by Van Halen - What fuck is a "record machine," anyhow? Apart from being a way to dodge coming up with a rhyme for "jukebox," that is.

1985 - "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon - Forget all the talk about Minor Threat and 7 Seconds, this here is the real font from which emo music sprung.

1986 - "Kyrie" by Mr. Mister - No, no.

1987 - "Livin' on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi - I preferred the Swinging Erudites' version, "Livin' on My Hair."

1988 - "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley - Happy Sweet 16, Andrew! We chipped in and got you a rickroll!

1989 - "Lost in Your Eyes" by Debbie Gibson - That's Deborah Gibson now, thank you very much.

1990 - "Escapade" by Janet Jackson - Six of one...

1991 - "Someday" by Mariah Carey - ...and a half dozen of the other.

1992 - "To Be with You" by Mr. Big - Music to peak in high school by.

1993 - "Informer" by Snow - Truly the Falco of his times.

1994 - "The Sign" by Ace of Base - ABBA 2.0

1995 - "Take a Bow" by Madonna - ...and exit the stage, please, before things get any more embarrassing.

1996 - "One Sweet Day" by Mariah Carey and Boyz II Men - Honoring the late Steve (Def Leppard) Clark and the late David (C+C Music Factory) Cole in the most insipid manner imaginable.

1997 - "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls - "What I really really want is to host bumpers for the Soap Opera Channel."

1998 - "My Heart Will Go On" by Céline Dion - Never underestimate the purchasing power of teenage girls.

1999 - "Believe" by Cher - The auto-tune effect that launched a thousand shitty Eurodance tracks.

2000 - "Amazed" by Lonestar - Country-fried cheese.

2001 - "Stutter" by Joe featuring Mystikal - If 6 was 9 was a forgettable R&B hit.

2002 - "Ain't It Funny" by Jennifer Lopez featuring Ja Rule - No, not particularly.

2003 - "In Da Club" by 50 Cent - Ugh.

2004 - "Yeah!" by Usher featuring Lil Jon and Ludacris - ...and Bella Abzug and Helmut Kohl and Madame Curie and Jim J. Bullock and that one dude at the gas station with the lazy eye.

2005 - "Candy Shop" by 50 Cent featuring Olivia - Ugh³.

2006 - "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt - Flattery will get you nowhere, James. My affections are not for sale to some next-gen James Taylor who yodels the word "beautiful" like he's just been kicked in the nads.

2007 - "This Is Why I'm Hot" by Mims - "I can sell a mill sell you nothing on the track." How refreshingly honest.

2008 - "Low" by Flo Rida featuring T-Pain - Honestly, this stuff exists solely for the purpose of being licensed into tinny-sounding ringtones, right?

When I embarked on this project, I had hoped that there would be at least a couple tracks in the list that even I wouldn't feel embarrassed posting. As it turned out, there was "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and not much else. (You may beg to differ, but mine is the hand that rests on the tiller.) So Queen it is then, along with an excellent acoustic cover of 1984's featured slice of pop rock bombast...

Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love (from The Game, 1980) - The greatest thing composed in a bathtub since Marat's Éloge de Montesquieu.

Aztec Camera - Jump (from a 1984 b-side; collected on The Best of Aztec Camera, 1999) - Maura once suggested that there was some kind of Dorian Gray relationship between Aztec Camera frontman Roddy Frame and Echo & The Bunnymen's Ian McCulloch, where McCulloch staved off the ravages of time by passing them on to Frame. If that was the case, the spell has apparently been reversed, as Roddy has been looking rather spry as of late, while poor Ian appears to be in the advanced stages of mummification.

all for a good cause

Doesn't it just warm your heart?

Bing Crosby - Dear Hearts and Gentle People (from The Definitive Collection, 2006) - A song that just screams out for ironic appropriation (see also the recently unveiled Fallout 3 trailer), especially in light of some of the allegations made about Der Bingle's domestic life.

The Breeders - Happiness is a Warm Gun (from Pod, 1990) - Only a Boston-based alt-rock side project could be this precise.

in case you were curious

It may be good to be the king, but it also sounds like a heck of a lot of work. I guess that's what separates the royal born from us mere peasants. That and chunks of paraffin crammed into the nasal passages.

Elvis Presley - King Creole (from King Creole, 1958) - If the late monarch of the House of Tupelo had chosen to stuff his face with wax instead of fried banana sandwiches and amphetamines, he might not have died so unceremoniously upon his throne.

Belly - King (from King, 1995) - Belly's second album got a bad rap from critics and fans who were hoping for a clone of Star, but I really enjoyed the band's shift to a (mildly) rockier sound that still retained elements of their signature esoteric indie pop vibe.

Carter USM - Speed King (from the "Let's Get Tattoos" CD single, 1994) - The inclusion of marvelously re-interpreted cover songs (like this take on a track by These Animal Men) made it worth buying Carter USM's single releases even when I didn't particularly care for what was on the the a-sides.

419 is a joke

URGENT MESSAGE:

Dearest readers,

I know this message may come to you as a surprise but please treat it for the urgency expected by it. We have been chosen as representatives for bitterandrew the High Seneschal of the Revolutionary United Front of Funkytown who was overthrown by the jealous masses on April 30th 2008 for being too handsome and witty for his own good.

After the High Seneschal went into exile, he instructed us to post this mini-playlist of happening sounds and groovy cuts inspired by the subject headers of bulk emails found in his spam folder on the morning of the revolution.

Best Regards
STEVE & EYDIE AMIN

(I'm actually kind of digging this exile business. The burdens of leadership are a hassle to shoulder for a low-key individual such as myself.)

When life gives you lemons, put them into a bowl on top of the fridge and forget about them until the rotting smell can't be ingnored any longer. When some bulk email scammer dumps a bunch of spam emails into your inbox, assemble a themed music post dealing with the subject matter.

"Miley Cyrus pictures available uncensored" - Wow, that didn't take long at all. Here's the thing: If you're going to try and use bait-and-switch tactics to attract my attention to the bogus "herbal supplement" you're hawking, you'll need to find a better enticement than Billy Ray Cyrus's tweener-targeted Vergeltungswaffe. Sure, I made my share of "Achy Breaky Heart" and mullet jokes back in the day, but why take your hyper-merchandised wrath out upon the nation's children, Billy Ray?

Hole - Celebrity Skin (from Celebrity Skin, 1998) - The only Hole I can stomach listening to, despite the songwriting presence of alt-rock antichrist Billy Corgan. The message of the song is that ambitions toward fame and celebrity can prove personally destructive. You know what else can be personally destructive? Scarfing down horse tranquilzers like they were M&M's, then following up the meal with a demerol chaser.

"Witchcraft will not help you in curing!" - So put your faith in Canadian pharmacy scams instead!

Spike Jones - That Old Black Magic (from The Anthology, 1994) - I can't help but think that Coldplay's "Violet Hill" would be vastly improved by the addition of cartoon sound effects. That's rubbish, actually -- there's nothing capable of making Coldplay sound like anything other than the utter shit they truly are.

"Bring out the T-Rex in you" - You mean I'll start wearing glitter on my face, score a string of hit records, then die in a horrible car crash? I'll have to think on that a bit. Speaking of channeling one's inner T. Rex...

Power Station - Get It On (Bang a Gong) (from Power Station, 1985) - In which the mid-80's supergroup (featuring the late Robert Palmer, the late Tony Thompson, and the understandably worried John Taylor and Andy Taylor) recasts a glam rock masterpiece in durable, non-biodegradable plastic.

"No test, No class, buy yourself Bacheelor MasteerMBA Doctoraate dip1omas" - I wonder if they offer degrees in Americaan Stud1ees, Engliish, or Soc1oloogy? Are there certif1caate prograams available? Is this really the way one should pad one's resuume?

Jetsons - Genetically Stupid (from a 1981 7") - Exceptional Devo-esque punk rawk out of Bloomington, Indiana that has been given much repeat play 'round Armagideon Time HQ.

seemed like the real thing

(from Blue Devil #3, August 1984; by Cohn, Mishkin, Cullins, & Martin)
Don't lose heart, Metallo! Kryptonite tickers may be hard to come by, but why not check out Armagideon Time's cardio-tastic line-up of replacement models? Our present stock includes several promising substitutes, hand-picked by our knowledgeable staff from a variety of materials and musical genres -- all guaranteed to get your blood pumping in style.

Lunachicks - Heart of Glass (from Luxury Problem, 1999) - This is for all those sad souls out there who've complained that Blondie's original version of the song sounded "too disco." Are you happy now?

Steel Pulse - Heart of Stone (from Sound System: The Island Anthology, 1997) - Soothing grooves for the end times, which seems kind of wrong yet sounds so right.

A Flock of Seagulls - Heart of Steel (from The Story of a Young Heart, 1984) - The New Wave at ebb tide. Be careful not to slice your foot open on some Big Pop flotsam; that shit can turn septic in the space of a heartbeat.

B.T. Express - Heart of Fire (from B.T. Express 1980, 1980) - WARNING: Individuals with hearts of fire should avoid wearing polyester suits, lest a real-life disco inferno occur.

architects of fear

For today's post, I'd like to pose a simple question to you, the reader:

Which of these two panels seems more likely to induce lasting psychological damage?

1. a standard "injury to the eye" number taken from a Jack Cole crime story

OR
2. this representative image of Peachy Pet, Johnny Thunder's precocious ward

I know which of the two images is going to cause me many a sleepless night in the weeks and months to come...

Frederic Wertham was right. His only mistake was focusing on the wrong targets.

Curve - Horror Head (from Doppelgänger, 1992) - Mining the same vein as Garbage, only earlier and, most importantly, better.

damn the consequences

Garbage - When I Grow Up (from Version 2.0, 1998) - It's not conformity. It's evolution. Being able to let things go is just as important as knowing what to hold on to.

As for Garbage, I was emphatically unimpressed with the band upon their debut, as they seemed to be simply a vehicle for alterna-angst and crotch shots. (When the band performed "Only Happy When It Rains" at an MTV awards show back in the mid-1990's, there was a decidedly disturbing gynecological approach to the videography.) My originally negative reaction to the band has mellowed somewhat over the years, to the point where I have to admit that they were among the most enjoyable of the mainstream-in-alternative-clothing acts foisted on the world during the Clinton years.

amoral compass

All I ask is a decent playlist and a theme to steer it by, though it would be wise to bring along some supplemental navigation materials, just in case:

The Fall - Hit the North (from a 1987 single; collected on The Frenz Experiment, 1988) - While I do not approve of violence, I have to admit that the North has been asking for it lately.

The Stone Roses - Driving South (from Second Coming, 1994) - Second Coming is fairly often cited as a textbook example of the "sophomore slump." I'd argue that designation stems more from absurdly high expectations than the actual quality of the material on the album, which was decent enough if not quite groundbreaking.

On a different note, whenever I listen to this track, I keep expecting Toni Halliday to chime in during the fuzzwash with "My name is FAIT!"

Lone Justice - East of Eden (from Lone Justice, 1985) - Another respectable effort marred by external forces -- in this case, a relentless juggernaut of promotional hype that ultimately translated into mediocre album sales, one hit single, and an overplayed music video for said single.

For years I wondered about the frequent application of the cowpunk genre tag to Lone Justice, as "Ways to Be Wicked," the above-mentioned hit, had a fairly mainstream country-rock sound, and didn't really fit the rough-and-tumble definition of cowpunk as I understood it. It wasn't until a few years ago, when I finally got around to listening to Lone Justice's debut LP in its entirety and heard today's featured track that I realized the label does apply to some (not nearly enough) of the band's work.

Pet Shop Boys - Go West (from a 1993 single; collected on Pop Art: The Hits, 2003) - If Lenin fronted the Village People, and renounced violent revolutionary action in favor of meticulously-crafted pop music...

what you don't know

For all the talk about sales figures, mainstream media coverage, and whatnot, the comics scene is still a fairly insular environment with a public profile on par with that of contemporary poetry. Most people are aware it exists, few outside the bubble of cognoscenti and critics would be able to name even handful of recent "important" works. Comics do have a leg up on poetry in terms of licensability (there isn't exactly a rush to adapt Charles Simic's work into an XBox 360 game or a Hollywood summer blockbuster), but that cross-medium saturation hasn't effectively translated into a boost in interest regarding the source material.

I attended a number of poetry readings back in college. It was part of my "excuses to spend more time with a girl I liked" program, though I do have a certain fondness for verse (mostly Classical, Romantic, and Moderinst stuff). With only a couple of execeptions, the material presented at the readings was tripe of the most self-indulgent variety, sophomoric profundities gilded with free verse sleight-of-pen. Then, a couple of days or weeks after the event, I'd read a review (written by a colleague or friend of the poet in question) in the Boston Globe or The Nation praising the poet's works to the rafters.

What contemporary poetry lacks in Entertainment Weekly coverage, it makes up for in perceived legitimacy. Taking up a pen and composing verse means participating in a tradition stretching from Homer and Ovid to Byron and Shelley to Eliot and Pound. In contrast, to the ears of the American masses "comics" doesn't evoke Eisner, Miyazaki, or Moebius as much as Superman, The Family Circus, and Rob Liefeld's X-Force -- disposable diversions largely targeted at children or scary obsessive fans.

This situation, combined with the insularity of the scene, has led to a defensive mindset, complete with elaborate attempts at self-justification, in some quarters. The people who have tied their sense of self-worth to the hobby, as outlined in Pal Ken's infamous post, are most frequently cited in regards to this phenomenon, but it has wider and more subtle effects than ingrained fan entitlement.

"The easiest way to look handsome and smart," as the old joke goes, "is to surround yourself with ugly, stupid people." Because the comics industry, in perception as well as sales, is dominated by decadent, inbred superheroic material (and manga, which has a similar crap-to-quality ratio as Marvel's and DC's products once one has set aside the lux oriente nonsense), there is a tendency to overvalue relatively decent material. As I said to a friend when Madonna's performance in Evita started to generate Oscar nomination buzz, "Not being lousy is not the same as being great."

Novelty and "purity of artistic vision" (whatever that is supposed to mean) in and of themselves are not enough. It doesn't matter how diminshed one's expectations regarding the medium are, a work has to stand alone on its own merits and not be graded on a scale because the prevailing standard is "barely tolerable, if not worse." Compared to According to Jim, Scrubs seems like a rare work of genius, but the "better of two bad choices" only really works in the realm of politics, and really isn't something a rational person would want to see applied in wider circumstances.

Think of how much the "indie" label has been manipulated and abused, not just in comics, but in film and music as well. The implied sense of artistic integrity and edginess in the term's use is meaningless on an aesthetic level, intended more to engender a knee-jerk "FIGHT THE MAN" reaction. It's a sentiment I can empathize with, but it's not a guarantee of quality or an innoculation against failure.

It's not that I'm saying that "good enough" isn't, well, good enough. I think that the record shows that I have been unswerving in my affection for the "solidly acceptable" class of entertainment choices. How else is one going to pass the time between transcendental works of genius? What I am troubled by is the willingness to laud good-not-great material as the Word made manifest -- replete with suspended critical judgement -- simply because Secret Infinite Invasion Crisis and whatnot have set the quality bar so damn low.

The Foundations - Build Me Up Buttercup (from The Very Best of the Foundations, 1995) - Is it bubblegum? Is it soul? A little bit of both? Does it even matter? Not to me, it doesn't. It's a damn fine piece of pop no matter how you tag it.

Ned's Atomic Dustbin - Until You Find Out (from God Fodder, 1991) - "I picked up a couple albums from some bands I'd been hearing buzz about -- Ned's Atomic Dustbin and Nirvana. I didn't really like the Ned stuff, but Nirvana was frigging awesome." On that day in 1991, a friendship died.

Friday Night Fights: I've Kissed Mermaids

As I was putting together yesterday's musical tribute to fallen minor comic characters, two thoughts occurred to me:

1. I'd have bought a monthly Aquagirl comic drawn by George Perez without hesitation.

2. For a character that was essentially a sidekick of a sidekick (and a halfhearted attempt to expand one of DC's less successful superhero franchises) who only appeared (mostly in minor roles) in a couple dozen stories during the eighteen years between her introduction and her death, Aquagirl (a.k.a. Tula) had the best-developed personality of all the Aquaman Family of characters. Granted, the most introverted sea slug would have seemed positively gregarious in comparison to Aquaman's befuddled surliness and Aqualad's agressive blandness, but even outside that shallow grading curve, Tula was pretty remarkable.

She was a "gawky pig-tailed kid" who matured into a strong-willed young woman who was unafraid to cut loose and enjoy herself...


...regardless of what the more staid men in her life thought about such behavior.


It wasn't just a case of being a flighty party girl, either, but was rooted in a sense of self-confidence...

...expressed (not frequently enough, sadly) by a willingness to dive in fist-first...

...and do whatever it took to get the job done.


Not that those qualities helped Tula much when she was caught in a spray of Chemo's toxic puke, but that's comics for you. One minute you're doing the sea-frug in Dr. Dorsal's Deep Sea Discoteque or throttling evil henchmen, and the next you're sucking up a lungful of caustic liquids sprayed into the Upper New York Bay of a parallel earth.

For the musical portion of our program, I need a song that incorporates oceanic imagery as well as the theme of tragic death. Something melancholy, yet oddly playful...

I've got it:

Pixies - Wave of Mutilation (from Doolittle, 1989) - There are only two songs by the Pixies I can bring myself to listen to. This is one. Feel free to try and guess what the other one is.

(Senseless? I think not.)

Friday Night Fights: Tis the Season for Reason

If you're anything like me (and if so I pity you), you might have found yourself muddling your way through Ayn Rand's overlong Objectivist screed, Atlas Shrugged, and wished that the tract-in-novel's-clothing featured more scenes of guys in colorful spandex costumes beating the shit out of each other.

It's a logical (or should I say "reasonable") enough response to the book, and we're fortunate that Charlton Comics' Blue Beetle #5 (November 1968; by D.C. Glanzman & Steve Ditko) has anticipated such a desire.

WOO-HOO! Go reasoned self-interest! Compromise and doubt is for moral looters, or even worse, hippies...

To think it took Rand, speaking through the character of John Galt, over fifty pages of speechifying to express the same sentiments.

Right-libertarians are not like you (I would hope) or I, and I thank Providence for that every chance I get.

Shriekback - Health and Knowledge and Wealth and Power (from Oil and Gold, 1985) - Can all be yours (though in all likelihood not), if you decide to smother any spark of compassion or empathy in favor of a ideology predicated on rational self-interest (also known as "narcissistic solipsism").

(An ideology unto himself.)

back at the start, so far to go

Marvel at the cutting edge of personal audio technology circa 1982, as presented in this magazine ad for "The Way," Panasonic's answer to the Sony Walkman:

(click for full optical effect)
Some things worth noting here:

1. Nine ounces is over half a pound.
2. The folks depicted in the ad were representative of the era's fashions, no matter what the rosy tint of media-driven consensual nostalgia would have you believe.
3. What's worse than either zombies or ski-bums? Zombie ski-bums. "Must have brains...and freshly packed powder...."
4. Seriously, what's up with that ski guy? His facial expression is one of the most disturbing things I've ever seen (and this is from a man who keeps a folder of war atrocity photos for archival/historical purposes).
5. The businessman in the last photo on the right is listening to Rick James' Street Songs.
6. The name "The Way" seems better suited for a cyptofascist new age cult than for a portable cassette player.

Violent Femmes - American Music (from Why Do Birds Sing? 1991) - Gano bless the Adenoidal States of America.

The Pulsars - Technology (from Pulsars, 1997) - It's all explained here, my children.

tonight I can't hold a pen

Following up on yesterday's post:

I've scheduled a consultation visit for tomorrow afternoon, with the procedures to be performed on Wednesday. The discernible sense of urgency in my dentist's voice was a little alarming, but there's nothing I can do about it but hang in there for the next 72 hours. I never thought I'd ever type these words, but I'm actually looking forward to having a root canal.

Because I'm presently distracted by the pain-related lack of sleep and dark thoughts regarding the pair of vice grips in my tool box, I'm going into low-content mode for the next couple of days.

First up, I'm going to write up a prescription for a topical lowbrow palliative...

(from "All the World's a Stooge," 1941)
...to be followed with administration of a soothing musical balm:

The Replacements - Can't Hardly Wait (from Pleased To Meet Me, 1987) - Wester-borg speaks the truth. I'm looking forward to Wednesday like it was Christmas, only with fewer presents and more pulpy nerve tissue scraped out my pearly off-whites.

I trust the weather

It's insanely cold and windy outside and I'm suffering through some kind of bug that makes me feel as if my sinuses and larynx have been flossed with steel wool. Normally that would have been enough for me to call it a day and crawl back into bed, but the office holiday party is being held today and the wife needed me to haul our comestible contributions into work.

While I zone out over a small plate of BBQ kielbasa and Mexican dip, please consider this modest musical offering in lieu of actual content from me on this day:

Throwing Muses - Colder (from House Tornado, 1988) - House Tornado was the first Muses album I purchased (along with The Pogues' If I Should Fall From Grace With God, at the long gone Strawberries store on the Middlesex Turnpike in Burlington), and it still sounds as esoteric and bizarre today as it did twenty years ago.

that just won't go away

A couple of mornings ago, the local cable news station ran a segment about the announcement of the WaMu layoffs and their implications for the mortgage business and the general economic climate. Part of the piece was given over to a Q and A session between a reporter and one of those self-proclaimed "experts" in which mainstream journalism invests too much of their faith these days. The expert discussed the immediate pain of the layoffs and the cosmic contraction of available credit. He then qualified his statements by saying that the subprime mortgage business "should never have existed," as it created an untenable situation where people who were not in a position to afford home ownership made the mistake of leveraging their bubble-enriched home equity to forestall the inevitable until the whole shaky facade came crashing down.

It's a reasonable enough argument. I've never understood the logic of treating one's house like an ATM, as equity isn't really an investment that pays dividends but a measure of ownership to be borrowed against, which is fine when one wants to pay a child's college tuition or for an addition to the house, but not so much when one wants a new plasma television or trip to Cancun. The thing is, though, that I clearly remembered this same "expert" (or one of his clone brothers hatched from the vats beneath Harvard Business School) on the same news program three years ago assuring that there was no housing bubble, home prices would continue to rise, and that the freewheeling equity-fueled spendathon was a slightly risky, but ultimately beneficial means of keeping the consumer economy humming until the other financial players got back on their feet again.

I'm not one for pinning scarlet letters on folks or strappado-induced confessions of error, but it seems to me that if one played cheerleader for the problem, he or she ought to at least acknowledge that role when dispensing solutions. Or, you know, the reporter could have confronted the expert on his past error and asked why his current remarks should be taken seriously in that light.

The truth is that we've long since passed into a world where rewritable reality is the order of the day. There are few fuck-ups so serious that they can't be ignored, spun in a more positive manner, or deflected with some of sleight of hand.

This: "What about those WMD's Iraq was supposed to have which you used as justification for war?"

Begets this: "LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! IT'S AN IRANIAN!" or "Illegal immigrants and gays are conspiring to destroy America!" or "I have no idea what you are referring to."

Anatoly Kuznetsov's Babi Yar is a autobiographical novel recounting the author's experiences as a child in wartime Kiev and the massacre of the city's Jewish population by the Nazi occupation force. Originally published in the Soviet Union, Kuznetsov released a complete uncensored version after defecting to the West in the wake of the Czech uprising. In the complete version of the novel, the sections originally removed by the Soviet censors and the author's post-defection additions to the text were highlighted with boldface and italics, respectively. It is an excellent, if utterly depressing, story, but also serves an incomparable example of post situ revisionism put into in practice. The passage where the author recounts how his class was directed to tear out textbook pages featuring purged "Heroes of the Revolution" I found especially fascinating in light of the current subjective cast reality has taken.

There's no need for that kind of heavy-handed revisionism in present day "open" societies. The breakneck flow of the information stream, consolidation of profit-hungry media outlets, and the accent of style over substance are far more subtle and effective than Orwell's memory hole could ever be. A non-stop barrage of white noise directed at an atrophied attention span makes it easy to pull off all sorts of shenanigans without drawing the attention of the intended marks.

...and the next thing you know, everyone's wearing flared (or super-tight distressed) pants, listening to neo-prog rock on an expensive yet soon-to-be-obsolete mp3 player, and thinking that Mitt Romney (or Ron Paul or Hillary Clinton) has some really good ideas about the direction this country needs to take.

Curve - Faît Accompli (from Doppelgänger, 1992) - Not quite shoegaze, not quite electronic, not quite goth, but quite nice all the same.

The Untouchables - Free Yourself (from Wild Child, 1985) - Just like mod revival band, bringing a horn section to punk venue.

ridicule is nothing to be scared of

The state of the American rock scene circa November 1981, as recorded in the pages of Hit Parader magazine:

(clicking makes things bigger)
I recently uncovered my small but extremely fascinating stash of early 80's rock magazines while digging around in my attic in search of something. (The something in question, I'm shamed to admit, happened to be a double-bladed lightsaber accessory needed to make my new Darth Revan figure better match the version I play in Knights of the Old Republic. NERD POWER!)

The majority of the mags were gifts from my wife, who found them and a DJ's crate of matching 45's at an estate sale a few years back. They're exclusively American periodicals -- mostly Hit Parader (before it became a heavy metal-specific venue in the mid-80's) and Creem with a few random issues of Us and People tossed into the mix -- and are invaluable artifacts from a retrological standpoint. These assorted periodicals present the era as it was, when it was, warts and all, instead of through the idealized rosy tint of collective mythologizing and nostalgia.

And as that table of contents shows, the reality was depressing indeed. It's heavy on the RAWK, with a couple new wave acts (Split Enz coming off the success of "I Got You" and Squeeze, who were only "New Wave" by historical accident), and a then-popular country crossover artist. It may not jibe with the memories of the Anglophile set, but it accurately reflects both the US top 40 charts from the period and Us magazine's 1981 year in review, which officially pronounced the new wave dead in the water. It really wasn't until MTV (launched in the summer of 1981) began to take off in earnest that the video-ready (and more importantly, video-friendly) descendents of the punk revolution cracked the North American market in earnest. (Check the top 100 charts for the years 1980 through 1983 for an excellent look at the radical taste shift in action.)

It's not just the choice of featured bands, but the overall tone of the magazine that is striking to behold. My wife described it as "fanzine-like," but that only partially describes it. There's a weird fusion of 70's rockist and Reagan Era attitudes in play, streamed through a starfucker filter. The "At Home With REO Speedwagon" interview with Neal Doughty ("Part Two of a Series") is the best example of this, in which the interviewer attempts to spin, sans irony, Doughty's affection for good room service (it helps if you don't trash the hotel room, Doughty states), home electronics, and Wizard of Oz memorabilia as "rock and roll" behavior. It presents Rotarian as rock star, and the dissonance is staggering. (Not that I fault Doughty, who is straightforward in reconciling his stardom with his interests, unlike the folks who show up on MTV cribs who present a "punk" or "gangsta" persona while showing off their custom made golf clubs or antique Persian carpets.)

Other highlights include a "sports challenge" where the magazine's staff members try to beat Rick "Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo" Derringer's score on a Phoenix pinball machine, a pin up of Cheap Trick's Rick Nielsen, and the letters page -- which proves that Kiss fans have always been a little touched in the head. "Kiss is the best damn group today that's worth a shit," says Phillip Box of Picayune, Mississippi, leading to me to wonder what is the best damn group of that era that wasn't worth a shit. Sukiyaki? The Dixie Dregs?

One of the trademark features of Hit Parader back in the day was that it included lyrics to the the popular songs of the day in each issue. For November 1981, we have "(The Theme to) Endless Love," "Slow Hand," and "We Can Work It Out" (as recorded by Chaka Khan). Also, "It's Now or Never" (as recorded by John "Bo Duke" Schneider) and "Too Drunk to Fuck" (as recorded by Mitch Miller and the Gang).*

The types of ads a publication runs is usually the best indicator of its intended target demographic, so what do the dozens of ads offering quick stardom via mail order to aspiring singers, songwriter/poets, and musicians (for a nominal fee, of course) tell us about Hit Parader's readership at the time? Before you answer, be sure to take into account the numerous ads for bodybuilding and weight loss plans, "magical" charms and formulae, and, yes, the glory that is DISCO TV. There are also plenty of ads hawking these dubious passkeys to glory for the under legal age crowd...


Seriously. I counted eight before I got bored and gave up halfway though the issue. It certainly explains the spike in Boone's Farm and peppermint schnapps consumption during that bygone era. The crackdown on fake ID's dealt a near fatal blow to the low grade pop alcoholic beverage industry.

To be fair, the issue isn't all dodgy product ads and rockist wankery. There were a few things that did manage slip past my retro-sarcasm catch nets, such as:

- a short blurb about Rick Ocasek of The Cars handling production duties on the New Models' "Permanent Vacation" single, a quite excellent bit of forgotten Beantown new wave which can be nabbed here.

- a piece about "new wave rock band" The Clash filming footage in New York City for a planned "modern western" where gunfights are replaced with "rap fights." I'm assuming, since the dates coincide, that the end product ended up being the video for "This Is Radio Clash."

- a mention of a Birmingham new wave outfit named after a Barbarella character whose single, "Planet Earth," had been getting major club play stateside. Also mentioned was Cold Chisel, an Aussie rock outfit deemed "likely" to follow in the footsteps of AC/DC and Air Supply.

And so we conclude our rambling retro-broadcast day with a Mr. John Lydon's after-the-fact take on that glorious year..

Public Image limited - 1981 (from This Is What You Want...This Is What You Get, 1984)

...as well as two tracks from 1981 that did not appear on the U.S. top 40 charts:

Adam and the Ants - Prince Charming (from Prince Charming, 1981) - Before she was a punk, my wife was an Antperson. I occasionally tease her about it, but then she brings up my heavy metal past and it stops being fun.

Red Rockers - Peer Pressure (from Condition Red, 1981) - Before they had a modest new wave hit with "China," the Red Rockers were a straightforward, Clash-inspired political punk outfit and just one of several excellent bands in the early New Orleans punk scene.

* I'm joking about one of those.

I know it ain't and so do you

My god is a god who wants me to have things. He wants me to bling! He wants me to be the hottest thing on the block... The god I serve says, 'Mary, you need to be the hottest thing this year, and I'm gonna make sure you're doing that.' My god's the bomb! - Mary J. Blige, quoted in the May 8, 2006 issue of Us Weekly

Lovely, isn't it? It was such a obscene example of celebrity self-importance that I recorded it in my journal after stumbling across it eighteen months ago. I dug it out and dusted it off after reading this article on a senate inquiry into the tax exempt status of certain televangelical proponents of the so-called "prosperity gospel," a strain of evangelism that equates wealth with God's favor. That contradiction of Christ's (you know, that guy Christianity was named after) well-documented teachings about wealth, poverty, and asceticism is justified through a rather loose interpretation of Deuteronomy 8:18, a line of scripture which could be otherwise summarized as "Remember that your success is owed to God."

Given this country's love of both the Almighty God and the Almighty Dollar, it isn't surprising that a synthesis of the two objects of affection would find an eager audience, appealing to haves and have-nots alike. Sure other sects may be uncomfortable with the prosperity gospel's Mammon-in-Christ's-clothing ideology, but Sen. Grassley's probe has led them to argue such actions are a slippery slope leading to government control of religious doctrine. A patently absurd claim, but perfectly tailored to rally flocks accustomed to respond to perceived "persecution" of Christians.

I'm sure their real concern is that such an investigation might raise further questions about the finances and flow of money within not only the individuals currently being scrutinized, but in their own organizations as well. It's amazing how the specter of an external audit can lead one to champion the separation of church and state, even when one has spent the past couple of decades actively attempting to undermine the principle.

Depeche Mode - Blasphemous Rumours (from Some Great Reward, 1984) - Not only does God have a sick sense of humor, he's really into slapstick.

XTC - Dear God (from Skylarking, 1986) - God has prepared a form letter response for all such inquiries. "Dearest TOM, I am sorry to say that I cannot help you by CURING YOUR DYING MOM as it is all part of my Mysterious Plan. Plus I was busy helping Mary J. Blige become the hottest thing. Love always, GOD"

and came in with the morning tide

I'm feeling under the weather today (an awful sinus headache), so this is all I've got the energy to offer, presented completely free of any context or specific relevance:


Carter USM - Everytime A Churchbell Rings (from 101 Damnations, 1989) - Due to the writers' strike, NBC has been running repeats of the Tonight Show. Last night's episode was originally taped back in the last spring or early summer of 1992, the tail end of one of the most memorable patches of my personal history. As my brain tried to make sense of Jay Leno's oddly oversized suit jacket and the dated topical humor (Ross Perot jokes!), I felt a strange sensation wash over me. It wasn't nostalgia's bittersweet call, but rather like a lucid flashback, as if the fabric of time bent back on itself and let the geists of the zeit run wild just as I had begun to nod off to sleep.

As a consequence, I woke up this morning wishing for a slice of Cafe Aventura pizza and an buring desire to listen to 101 Damnations again. Cafe Aventura, like most of the Harvard Square I used to know and love, is long gone, but I do still have my copy of the album that (more than any of the other scores of records bought and listened to back then) I consider to be the official soundtrack of that chapter of my life.

let me show you once and we'll be free

Hey, groovy readers, can you figure out...


Answer: Not only was the bus on time, but it's the middle of August and the air conditioner is working properly.

Answer: These lively lads are playing outside, getting plenty of fresh air and exercise instead of sitting on the rumpus room couch playing Halo 3 and stuffing their faces with junk food.

Answer: The driver of the car was able to effectively respond to an unexpected situation because she doesn't use her cell phone while driving.

Answer: The community still maintains public trash receptacles, instead of earkmarking those funds toward extortionate tax breaks for condo developers and multinational corporations.

Answer: None of the students in the above picture are carrying a concealed weapon or murder list, nor has anyone uttered a homophobic insult during the entire course of the event depicted.

The Jesus and Mary Chain - Something's Wrong (from Psychocandy, 1985) - I'll say. It sounds like someone stuck a meat skewer though my subwoofer. Wait, that buzzdrone I'm hearing is intentional and considered to be the band's signature sound? The devil you say!

The Byrds - It Won't Be Wrong (from Turn! Turn! Turn! 1965) - How could it be, when twelve-string jangles and dead perfect folk rock harmonies are involved?

Halloween Countdown: October 15 – there's a crack in the mirror

So, if the critical theorists are to be believed, the horror story, at its core, functions as cautionary tale intended to reinforce normative behavior (by depicting the grim fate of transgressors) and/or reflect contemporary societal anxieties. With that in mind, let's turn our attention to "The Boy Who Cried Vampire," another tale from the headscratchingly bizarre Chilling Adventures in Sorcery As Told By Sabrina #1 (September, 1972).

During the course of a family dinner party, young Stanley Caldwell makes a discovery about his dapper (yet sinister) "Uncle Brucie," a frequent guest of the family:

Stanley's protests fall upon deaf ears, but after the party, he encounters Uncle Brucie in the study, and...well...

That's a very...interesting...choice of metaphor, and quite possibly the inspiration behind this.

When Stanley emerges from his trance with a fresh set of puncture wounds on his neck, he attempts to expose Uncle Brucie's secret life, though perhaps not in the most effective manner. Bare-chested histrionics have their place and all, but one mustn't let the medium obscure the message:

"Yes, Magic Fork, impart unto us your flatware wisdom!"

The discovery of Occam's meatprongs on the carpet leads Stanley's parents, with a little encouragement from Uncle Brucie, to conclude that Stanley must have accidentally stabbed himself with the sharp object while sleepwalking. "See, son, there's no such thing as vampires! You just happened to mutilate yourself while in a zombie-like state! Feel better now?"

In order to reassure Stanley, Mr. Caldwell calls in a few favors and takes the fork to an open-all-night forensic pathologist who specializes in cutlery-related injuries. The pathologist's results confirm the sleepwalking theory, and a chastened Stanley apologizes to Uncle Brucie, who offers to give the teen a ride home.

But it's not long before Brucie parks his car in a nice, secluded place, and...

It's the Bram Stoker version of Boys Beware!

...and so another innocent youth is indoctrinated into the vampiric lifestyle. When will society ever learn?

Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) (from Bloodletting, 1990) - I never paid much mind to Concrete Blonde back in the day, but I've since grown to appreciate a select few of their songs, due to their being in heavy rotation (along with The The's and The Wonder Stuff's material) on the digital music channel I listen to while reading.