merch girl

I remember when a way of showing love for a band/artist was buying their assorted merchandise. It's kind of sad that I don't really do that any more.

While my friends were arguing their sides in the Debbie Gibson versus Tiffany battle of the 1980s (I always favored Gibson back then...she seemed to be the "good girl" while Tiffany seemed to be "bad," in my young mind, what with her hanging out at the mall, performing and stuff), I loved the Bangles. My first ever band t-shirt was a Bangles t-shirt, white, with something about Walk Like and Egyptian on it. There was something so unique and cool and wonderful about wearing a music related t-shirt. Then in junior high/high school, t-shirt wearing became my norm (first the hair metal bands, then the alternative groups, then the classic rock bands). I think the last t-shirt I bought was a Willie Nelson one, in 2004-ish, at his show, because it was funny (Willie Nelson for President).

T-shirts opened the flood gate for the other merchandise - buttons, stickers, magazines with photos to tear out and put on your wall, vinyl, comic books, CDs, rare import CDs with a live recording of a show in Japan, etc. The assorted junk of a fan girl.

I occasionally will buy vinyl, but I have not bought anything else in a long while...no concert t-shirts (to prove I was there), no stickers or buttons...I used to live at a local record story, buying stuff, something, anything, each time I was there. I think the last CD I bought was...I can't even remember now...2006-ish, at a used record store (I want to say it was Franz Ferdinand or something similar).

I will say that I am excited - I have been re-listening to classic rock, with a newer (older?) appreciation of it...and listening to more 1970s punk...geez, the Strokes totally ripped off some of those bands' sound. I had no idea...

poetry in cars

What's it been - almost a full week of almost daily posts? Go me!

Two thoughts (I ought to split these for two posts...but...no).

I just finished watching Off the Charts: the Song-Poem Story (2003). It's a great little documentary about music and kitsch and the pursuit of fame...I remember the ads that used to run (do they still?) about music producers wanting your poems, to turn into chart topping songs. I was always tempted but never submitted anything. Apparently, regardless how bad a poem you sent in, you would get back an offer to record your song (you pay a fee, of course). The film covers the hopefuls that mail poems in (including one kind of sad story with a man who tries to go out on tour and doesn't do very well) as well as the people who 'produce' them. Really, they (for the most part) give some care to what they are recording, as off the wall as some of it is. One of the poem writers was a kung-fu, guns and Jesus enthusiast (reminiscent of Napoleon Dynamite, minus the Jesus stuff). He's sent in several poems to be turned into songs, including one explaining his love for the late Annie Oakley (technically, he loves her spirit, he explains). As goofy as he is, he is actually sweet and...I can't laugh because he's doing creative stuff and actually getting it produced and now he was in a film. So, there you go.

And next thought - I hate driving now. Dread it almost. I used to love a road trip...love to take aimless drives to where ever...there's a show an hour away? I'll drive! But, lately, my weekly 45 minute trip to and 45 minute trip back to campus for a class just...argh...I hate it...I hate the traffic (there's not much), I hate the distance (it's only 45 minutes, really not that awful), I hate the bumpy roads (they are pretty bad). So, this time, I made myself listen to the '70s station on XM and not turn it (as, typically, I would tend to flip stations, carefully, after every song). And that made it not so terrible.

Jeffrey

I watched Get Him to the Greek (2010) yesterday and it was a mixed bag (a "Jeffrey," if you will) - there were things I liked about it and things I hated about it, but what most bothered me was Mad Men's Peggy and Jonah Hill.

How and why are these two a couple? Peggy is a super busy and sleep deprived medical student who likes Gossip Girl and bright colors. Jonah Hill (who just makes me think of Allen Gregory, the character he voices on the sometimes amusing cartoon with the same name) is a sleep deprived (?) music fanatic who has some sort of job at a record label. One night, he asks Peggy to go see the Pixies and the Mars Volta (Pixies should have had lead billing) and Peggy asks to be reminded as to who Mars Volta is (really, Peggy? You are aware of the Pixies and not Mars Volta?) and decides she'd rather stay home and watch Gossip Girl than go see the Pixies. The Pixies. OMG. The flipping iconic Pixies lose to a show which has gotten weaker and weaker since it's first few seasons (like 90210, when they leave high school, the show goes downhill fast). Ugh. I digress.

How are these two even together? I hate, in films, when the main character loves loves loves music and is with a woman who has no clue about music (who is also usually a harpy). Really? How'd they get together? Some other common interest(s) the viewer isn't let in on?

I think it comes down to the fact that Jonah Hill's character is unlikable and inconsistent (I don't think a different actor would have done much with the role either). Peggy's going to be a doctor. She needs to move to Seattle without him. Find some other milk toast guy who likes Gossip Girl as much as she does, who also doesn't know who the Mars Volta is.

I also hate how, in movies, if both parties in a couple cheat (aka the man cheats so we have the woman cheat too) it somehow makes it okay/acceptable to both parties (cancels each other out?).

But, in the end, Peggy and Jonah work it all out. He lives the fake music industry to...oh, to stay in the music industry to become a producer. Uh, okay. What I'd love to see is a future sequel - with Russell Brand's character's son (who turns out to not be his son) grown up and working at Jonah Hill's totally real and not all flashy fake record label and given the task to get his father (not-father) to a reunion show...Get Him BACK to the Greek. Ha. No.

soundcheck to an empty room

[originally posted on myspace on 2/18/09]

Someone posted the stage rules for a new rock and/or roll club that opened up recently...and while some make perfect sense ("Any bands disrepecting the sound tech will not perform" and "Bands must be ready to perform in the 15 minutes allotted for set-up")...others...well, not so much ("There will be NO SMOKING or ALCOHOL on stage at any time"...no smoking or alcohol on stage...at a bar?...at a rock show?? Really???

...and some that just humorously attempt to defy stereotypes ("Sound check will be at 3:00 PM the day of the performance"...because muscians don't wake up before 3 PM, silly!).

escape club

[originally posted on myspace on 7/30/09]

- I was just thinking along these lines again this morning

Lately, I've been fascinated with the concept of escapism...why we pick and enjoy the outlets we do (i.e. music, drugs, movies, trashy romance novels, etc)...why we pick what we do and what need it feeds into or what need was there in the first place that this outlet would be the thing to (temporarily) fix it (which came first, the chicken or the egg sort of thought process).

Anyway, related, somewhat...I was listening to the '60s station on XM and they played a whole string of Beatles songs and I was more or less thinking about how their songs processed as they got 'older,' going from poppy, teenager-y songs to deeper stuff. They played "You're Going to Lose That Girl" and, as many times as I've heard that song, this was the first time I really listened to the lyrics and thought about them. If you have never heard the song (welcome back from that rock you've been under for the past 40 some years), it is essentially a guy telling another guy, 'be nice to your lady or else I'm going to step in and woo her, buddy,' Again, never gave it much thought, but I guess I before I always listened to it as a 'from one guy to another guy' sort of message...BUT...

...what if, instead, it was written to brillantly provide escapism to some teenybopper fan? How good a concept, no? Picture it, 1960s girl is at home, crying over her creepy boyfriend and she hears:

"If you don't take her out tonight, she's going to change her mind...and I will take her out tonight, and I will treat her kind."

She hears this and thinks, "yes, Dirk (or whatever 1960s name fits here) is a cretin but I bet Paul or John would take me out and be super nice and excellent boyfriend material."

And thus spawns (or further deepens) the girlhood crush. And if nothing upsets that crush, you got a fan for life (or at least, middle-age). So, there you go...play into the escapism factor and you got a customer for life.

(this is how my brain thinks...pop song equals bigger marketing/psychological device)

I alone

[originally posted on myspace on July 27, 2009]

- my apologies for the stripy-ness of this...I don't know how to correct it -

I will call her “Julie,” named after Love Boat Cruise Director Julie McCoy. You’ll see why in a second (depending on your rate of reading).

As a background, I met Julie one time before seeing her again the other night. That first time I met her, eh, I just found her to be very forcibly nice. Like if she was a character in a Lifetime movie, she’d start out super nice and just a bit off-puttingly too friendly and by the end of the movie, she’d steal your husband, poison your dog, kidnap your kids, somehow get you fired from your job, torch your car, etc.

But, really, I don’t know her well enough to cast her into a movie. She seems nice.

So, the other night, she comes over to me and re-introduces herself (thankfully, as her hair was different, so I probably would not have recognized her otherwise). She reintroduces herself, still the same forced friendly, “You’re Jen, right? Hi, I’m Julie, we’ve met a few times, I think.” (unless she has been showing up at my apartment during my Daisy of Love viewings, then, no, we’ve met once).

I am standing away from the stage because, 1) the older I get, the further away I want to stand from the speakers and 2) the show was in a record store and man, did I want to rummage through the room full of vinyl. She, again, being nice, invited me to join “the rest of us,” the group of assorted band member significant others and supporters who were directly in front of the stage. I said no, thanks and she flitted away. It reminded me of a time in 8^th grade…I had made one of the ‘popular’ girls laugh and she suddenly realized I was cool and invited me to move over to the ‘cool’ section of our mutual math class (yes, our math class had a ‘cool’ section, the two rows closest to the door which was filled with all the popular kids of the class and apparently, was a by invitation only sort of seating arrangement). Anyway, it was a nice thought, but, really, I was happy roaming the store on my own. I didn’t really feel the urge to sit with others I didn’t know/didn’t really want to know and drum up conversations. There was vinyl to pillage! So much for my networking skills, eh?

Here’s where she earns the name Julie. She was working the event, like a social event coordinator, like it was her job. She was making sure the video camera was set up, she was mingling with the people. And then, she repeatedly came over to me through out the night to check on me (like a waitress, I almost asked for a refill of my nonexistent drink, but I don’t think she would have taken it as a joke). Not in a ‘do you like the music?’ or ‘what do think of the store?’ kind of way, but in a ‘are you having fun?’ and ‘are you ok?’ kind of way. Because, obviously, a person cannot possibly be happy standing by herself in a record store, watching bands play (had there been alcohol, it would have been my dream setting).

I assume she’s just working the room, repeatedly assure her I am fine, even go talk to some people to get her to back off. At the end of the night, when I normally would have slipped out quietly, as I had someplace else to be, I made it a point to go and say a kind farewell to her. I get a big old hug (expected) and again, she asks me if I had a good time, to which I, again, assure her yes (and besides, if I didn’t have a good time, that’d be on me, not the activity director). Then she says something along the lines of: “I just worry about you because EVERY TIME I see you, you’re alone.” (or it might have been “you’re by yourself”)

I can’t pinpoint why her sentence surprised me (and has burrowed a little hole in my brain and made me post a blog about it). Worry? Because we are not friends and you don’t know me enough to make an assumption about worrisome behavior (granted, if you met someone twice and both times, they were extremely trashed, you might want to worry over the state of their liver, sure).

Every time? The total of 2 (including that evening) times she has seen me equals “every time.” Yes, mathematically, that is correct. 2 out of 2 is 100%. But 2 out of 2 may also be too soon to judge, Sunshine.

Yes, the TWO times I have seen her, I have been at a show alone. Is that a horrible thing? Is that something that needs to bring on the old Jewish mother with an aged, unmarried, wallflower daughter high level of concern? It went from being friendly to feeling more like she was the camp counselor adopting woeful, anti-social me as her special project (complete with 1980s movie make over montage and my emerging out of my cocoon to rise to social butterfly stature with crimped blonde hair in time for the big end of summer dance).

Sure, there were 2 (or 3) people that, had they come along (had they been available or had I asked), it would have been a fun night. But, shocker, I had a good time by myself. And I’m sure it’s harder to believe because I know I tend to have a frown (or I’d rather think of it, I don’t have a plastic fake perma-smile stuck on my face), but when you go to shows alone, you adopt that look, that don’t bother me, please, drunk man, don’t hit on me, look (a look that drunks are oblivious to, apparently).

Or, I could see some concern if, every time, I showed up alone and went home with some random guy, or started throwing barstools at strangers for looking at me funny or defaced property. Nope. I show up, usually late, enjoy and leave, usually quietly.

in the tiny, tiny hours

Too many of these:

Equals pictures turning out like this:

No, seriously, I only had one beer (and a coffee). I was trying to take an abstract picture of the stage and the wires and it didn't work out. I went to the Luna Star Cafe last night and it was lovely...and now I have selected tracks from Luna's Penthouse album in my head...

(you can still) Rock in America

[first post not originally posted on myspace because I lost patience with it taking so long to load]

I reconnected with someone via Facebook recently. I knew her through mutual friends. I can't remember how old she is (and her profile doesn't say), but she is either a few years younger or older than me. Anyway, years ago, we hung out a few times, I sort of knew her.

Skip forward to now. A band that I clearly remember her liking way back then is playing a show down here soon. I included her in an email to let people know who remembered/liked this band know that there'd be a show coming up...including her ex (who loved the band, and maybe that's the only reason she liked the band...anyway...). So, she wrote back that, no, sorry, she didn't really like the band (what?)...that she had gone to one of their shows once and it was too "heavy" (um? and nope, they are not a metal act), etc. Of course, back when I first met her, she did like the easy listening music, so it should not have been a huge surprise. So, I figure, ok, she was just lying back in the day that she liekd them because her "man" liked them. Go it. She emails me again and says that she's gotten more "mellow" in these recent years (back in the day, she was as mellow as milk, so not too much of a life transformation). I am emailing you about a daytime event...not a midnight set of some GWAR-tribute band playing during the porn and ammo convention...I don't think there will be much "heavy" going on...and I understand that she is now older, married (take that, ex who liked the band!) and with kids...but, that is what keeps you from going to a "rock" show? Really? I hope I never, ever, ever think like that.

I don't remember her being a music fanatic...though, to her credit, she did, at least, like some music, unlike another acquaintance at around the same time who swore to me that she did not like any type of music (which, to this day, I do not believe). I guess I am so wrapped up in music that I can't imagine not liking any particular genre or song or artist, can't imagine being too "old" (sorry, too "mellow") to go to a show (ear plugs, maybe...leaving before the second encore to beat traffic, alright).

Bah.

interpretative dance

[originally posted on myspace on May 14, 2010]

There are less and less myspace blogs from others each day. Sad.

So, I've had this song in my head all evening. It's a song I so love for many reasons. Somehow, the song came up in conversation with Guy I Sort of Went on a Few Dates with Last Year. I probably said something along the lines of "oh, I like that song," rather than "omg, I love that song, it so describes how excited/nervous/silly you can get when you like someone, it's such an accurate, perfect description set to music, etc etc." He provided his explanation of the song, how he interpreted it (essentially, "what a slutty girl").

I did not tell him he was wrong or that my interpretation differed (greatly). I just nodded and new subjects came and went. But that, the fact that our interpretations were so different and far apart, that always bugged me. And it doesn't matter who was right..I don't know the person(s) who wrote the song, so we could both be way off base and wrong when it comes to what the song's about/the inspiration. Regardless, me and Guy were ultimately doomed before we started.

And this wasn't the first time.

Not that I am all knowing, but I can kind of understand where a song is coming from, or, at the very least, how/what the song means to me, anyway. And several times Guys I've Sort of Dated have interpreted a song in a completely different way. And while differences are beautiful, I'm thinking in these cases, if we can't even agree as to what a song is about, if we don't have a similar idea, then we don't belong together.

So, for the future, I will really have to think about it, think about a song that is super personal for me at least, super personal for how I interpret it and hold onto that song. And, when Future Guy(s) comes along, I will casually bring it up in conversation, or maybe in an odd twist, he'll mention it first. If he thinks it's about XY, while I think it's about A, I will proceed with caution. If he thinks it's about 483, then I will run.

again and again

[originally posted on myspace on April 12, 2010]

1. Ok, I know a handful of people who read my blog. The rest of us? I have no idea...but thanks? Cool.

2. I don't understand chick music journalists (I am excluding myself from this group, obviously). Yes, I am stereotyping, but let me explain.

Someone posted a review of a show the other weekend and I started reading through the article, then the rest of the blog the article was on. Seems it's written by a female. Cool, she goes to lots of shows. I haven't seen her around (because I am still in an anti-social frame of mind, so, yeah, I haven't seen lots of people around, technically). But, cool, someone who goest to shows, can write actual, full sentences. Awesome! Reading further through, I noticed how often she calls a guy cute (or variation), or talks about boys in general (mostly, in a self-knocking way, how none of them like her in that way, in a like-like way). I will absolutely give slack, as this is her personal blog. She just happens to talk about a lot of shows...however, I'd noticed that chick music journalists (or writers or bloggers or hanger-oners) tend to discuss: a) the cuteness of various musicians and/or b) eventually launch into some diatribe about how unsupportive/lame/unorganized our "scene" is (I'm not saying it's not...I'm saying we don't really have a scene here). Now, in my younger days (I'm older now, I'm allowed to say that), I definitely prattled on and on about topic b, but I don't think (I am going to say I am 99.9% certain) I ever, ever said, in print, how "cute" (alluring, hot, charming, rakish good looks) a musician was, in the midst of a write up/review/interview. Ever. Because, well, I guess I am from the 'old school,' where you stick to the point and the point is the music (and maybe the atmosphere, if people watching the other drunks is worth the word count).

3. (surprised you there, huh?) I finally watched Nick & Nora's Infinite Playlist tonight. I DVR'd it awhile ago but just never got around to watching it as: a) I tend to tape movies and never get around to watching them, as sitting in front of the TV for two hours straight isn't always where my head's at and b) the ads for the movie looked achingly sweet/cute/indier than thou and I was worried to actually watch the movie...as it may suck. It was actually cute. Kind of predictable and the music placement, sometimes, kind of odd...but overall, cute. What I did not understand was, at the end, why Nick and Nora did not stick around for the Fluffy concert. Wasn't that the point, to find them and see their favorite band? At first, I thought, 'oh, Fluffy symbolizes their former lives, their exes and by not staying, they show they are moving on.' But Nick's ex totally left. They could have stuck around. Maybe it was along those lines, like life is now, band worship is not as important as new love. Eh.

is this how disco died?

[originally posted on myspace on February 1, 2010]

Today, the classic rock station played "I Melt With You" by Modern English.

I don't know why, maybe because it was such a 1980s song, but I was always fiercely protective of that song. It was always a little bit of 'do not touch' for me, though I don't know why...it holds no special memories for me...there was no junior high dance or anything to associate it with (except when Possum Dixon covered a snatch of it up in St. Pete because ME was playing in town the same night). And, really, the lyrics...do I really want a man to melt with me?

I digress.

When I first heard it in that Burger King commercial years ago (watching TV in my first apartment years ago), I was sad...sad that they had 'sold out' and sad that a corporation was using such a happy little song. Now, however, I understand the benefits of licensing out your music (i.e. Moby), and, hey, "melt" used in a cheeseburger ad...that's pretty clever, BK.

But, to hear that song on a classic rock station. Wedged inbetween "Hot Blooded" and "Money." No. That song belongs on an 'alternative' station (oh, right, we have none of those) or on a pop station's 'fun' '80s flashback weekend (between Huey Lewis and upbeat INXS songs). Class rock should be Led Zep and Pink Floyd and AC/DC and old Aerosmith...and if you're stretching it, maybe KISS or older Metallica (not Nirvana or Pearl Jam, no, not ever...that would make me old).

I suppose it's got to happen. The 'oldies' station has long abandoned anything from the '50s and now sticks with purely '60s (and usually later '60s) and '70s. I guess the classic rock needs to stay about a decade ahead (behind?) them.

But, no! If the classic rock station wants to take down my Modern English (ok, technically one song by them), they also need to start taking others with them, like the Specials, Madness (too late?), Elvis Costello, Squeeze, A Flock of Seagulls...etc.

And maybe I'm just old and stuck in my ways (or at least the radio formatting I have known for the past 30 years)...

soundtrack

[originally posted on myspace 10/7/08]

I think this is one of the best survey-ish things I've filled out (thanks, Rain!).I tried to fill this out quickly, with thought but not too much (as there'd be 20 songs for each line if I really, really thought about it)...

this is your life (soundtrack):

Opening Credits: "Rock and Roll" Velvet Underground

Waking Up: "What Do I Get?" The Buzzcocks

Average Day: "Synchronicity II" The Police

First Date: "The Future Freaks Me Out" Motion City Soundtrack

Falling In Love: "You Got Me" The Roots

Love Scene: "Sometime Around Midnight" The Airborne Toxic Event

Fight Scene: "Defy" Quit

Breaking Up: "Explode and Make Up" Bob Mould

Getting Back Together: "It's Oh So Quiet" Bjork

Secret Love: "Here Comes Your Man" the Pixies

Life's Okay: "Everything is Everything" Lauren Hill

Mental Breakdown: "Jane Says" Jane's Addiction

Driving: "Just What I Needed" The Cars

Learning A Lesson: "I Hate Myself for Loving You" Joan Jett

Deep Thought: "The Boys of Summer" Don Henley

Flashback: "Drinking in LA" Bran Van 3000

Happy Dance: "Deceptacon" Le Tigre

Regretting: "Mighty KC" For Squirrels

Long Night Alone: "You Ought to Be With Me" Al Green

Showdown: "T.N.T." AC/DC

Death Scene: "Gypsy Road" Cinderella

Closing Credits: "Ice Ice Baby" Ben Kweller

what would Badu do?

[originally posted on myspace on August 3, 2008, Sunday]

My new mantra - what would Erykah Badu do?

Seriously.

Yesterday, one of the MTVs ran a block of her videos, while I was concerned about some trifling boy who doesn't know how to use a telephone properly. I left the TV on for background noise (and because I love her songs) and it hit me, Erykah Badu wouldn't be concerned with this...she's bad ass. Maybe she'd write a sappy song about it later but for the time being, she'd get dressed (in a so odd it works way) and go out anyway and have a good time and not worry about a stupid guy. I'm gonna start doing what she (and any bad ass female) would do. So that's what I did, sorta...

marker

[originally posted on myspace on July 30, 2008, Wednesday]

Last night, right before going out, I saw U2's video for "Where the Streets Have No Name"...it's the one with the doc feel, on the rooftop. I hadn't seen it from its' beginning (with the cops threatening to shut it down, etc) in a long time.

Probably when I first saw it, I'm going to say I didn't get it, didn't understand why they were going through all the trouble to play on a rooftop (as I was young and pro-Establishment and didn't know my Beatles history). But future viewings make me think it was awesomely cool, to play despite the possibility of getting shut down, to play to a mixed group, to just do something different.

So, watched it last night and, I don't know, kinda teared up a smidge about the emotion, the sorta-anarchy, the documentariness of it all (and then thought, geez, look at them now compared to then)...I want to make something like that...something that still stirs emotion in a bitter little heart after 20 some years...something that still has meaning decades later...something timeless.

I would be sad if I found out any of that police stuff in the video was staged...

punk mass

[originally posted on myspace on Wednesday, March 19, 2008]

Please, please, please: a moratorium on citing "punk rock music" as an influence (I guess this is how the goth kids will feel in a couple years).

Thirty plus years ago, who would have thought that a dirty little teenage rebellion would produce so much crap.

The Pussycat Dolls (herein referred to as PCD) launched a new lingerie line called the Pussycat Dolls’ ’...shhh.’ Robin Antin (who created the PCD, kind of in the same way the Village People were created and yes, she’s Jonathan’s sister) said of the line: "The lingerie line was inspired by punk-rock music and old-fashioned pinup girls."

I think she means it was inspired by the punk rock clothing culture, not the actual music…because, really, what does PCD have to do with music?

How does a genre originally started as an anti-establishment statement, that was born out of trash culture and a return to pure, unadulterated rock and roll spawn lingerie produced by a pretend musical group that is signed to a major label and has reality tv shows linked to it? Shows hosted by poor ol’ Mark McGrath (yeah, remember when Sugar Ray was punk?). Lingerie that was surely sewn overseas in a sweatshop, that will be marketed to higher end retail and overpriced, until it doesn’t sell and ends up in a clearance bin in a Walmart near you.

My point is this: the word punk has lost all meaning.

If you must, fine, tell me your band is punk/influenced by punk rock (though, most likely, it is not). Music influencing music, okay.

Punk is to reject the mainstream. You cannot use it to sell your lingerie, clothing, hair care products, automobiles, hotel chains, cell phones or your Avril Lavigne.

However, feel free to cite "pop punk" as an influence.

[see also: http://www.forbes.com/markets/feeds/afx/2008/03/14/afx4774780.html]

name that tune

[originally posted on myspace on December 6, 2007]

I needed help figuring out a song but while writing this, I thought I should research and I think I found it. Enjoy the nonlinear (I was going to say 'transcendental,' but I think that's not correct use) ride of discovery.

A result of my (many) years at the radio station: sometimes, I like to figure out good transitions (omg, I want to say "seg-way" but no idea how to properly spell and Word is zero help) in my head. And sometimes, it just pops up automatically. Kind of similar to when you buy a book on Amazon, and they automatically make a suggestion of what other books you might like. This was sort of happening last night, but sometimes (last night) it results in a mash up of songs getting stuck on a loop player in my head. And it annoyed me as there was one song that I just cannot place.

Last night: stuck in my head was a girl singer version of "Only Love Can Break Your Heart" (real slow, mellow). There's part of the song where she breaks out of the title, where she sings something like "I was always thinking…" something something - I think it's the same song. Now, for some reason, this made my head come up with "My Prerogative" by Bobby Brown. Yes, weird…at first. But I now think if a girl (or guy, for that matter) was doing the "Love" song, she/he could bust into the Bobby Brown song for a minute and flow right back out. And after this brilliant mash up, I got a Taking Back Sunday song stuck in my head (my favorite one as it's so genius to me, oh the lyrics!, "You're So Last Summer" - no idea how it fits into the other songs).

Hurrah! I typed the title onto allmusic and listened to some samples and I think I found my mystery song: Saint Etienne covering Neil Young's "Only Love Can Break Your Heart." Now I'll have to go download it to see if I'm right. Happy. Oh, no, I found another sample with more of it and I really think the song thinking exists as it does in my head (without the Bobby Brown song). Yea!!

Yesterday was a busy work day, spent most of the time kind of running around, not chained to desk…which was so nice and enjoyable but resulted in more work to catch up on today (blah). And I just have zero focus so I can't really get started. Eh. Lunch soon?

under the moonlight, the serious moonlight (interlude)

[originally posted on myspace on July 26. 2007]

I was watching old videos last night (I love the Tube Network) and memories came rushing back.

Earliest (sorta) music-related memories:

First video ever saw (I believe both on HBO):

One for Culture Club, possibly "Karma Chameleon." My mom loved Boy George's voice on the radio, and this video was the first time we both saw him. She was in shock. I was amused.I more vividly remember David Bowie's "Let Dance." Maybe because it had dancing, maybe I thought he was cute. I saw it last night (after years of not seeing it) and ohmigod the shoes in the video: sort of pointy (though not as extreme pointy as I like) red shoes. Maybe that's where the shoe thing comes from.

My first official concert:

The Jackson 5 Victory Reunion tour. I just remember that the entire family (plus one friend per kid) went and I brought a Cabbage Patch doll with me. And I think the group came in via a helicopter.

The concert I wanted to go to:

Madonna, possibly the Like A Virgin tour. I was not allowed to go (too young), but my best friend at the time and I tried to win many times through the local radio station. No luck. Beastie Boys were the opening act. Too funny.

My earliest crushes:

George Michael (I was so upset when Wham! broke up) and Prince (I really wanted to grow up and be an actress so I could star in a movie with him – ala Purple Rain, which I was not allowed to see).

Song-related thoughts:

I remember being in a Showbiz Pizza (I think, it was the earlier version of Chuck E Cheese) and we were in the dining room, having pizza, listening to the animatronic animals singing. They performed "867-5309 (Jenny)" by Tommy Tutone (in retrospect, what the hell were those family friendly animals singing that for, but in the 1980s, no one heard lyrics apparently). I loved the song at the time (and had no concept of what it was about) because it had my name in it. At the time, I remember pointing out to my mom that, although it had my name in it, it had the wrong telephone number (as if I was the only Jen in the world, little did I know).

I also remember hearing Rick Springfield's "Jesse's Girl" on the radio (constantly). I liked it but didn't get it. To me, at the time, Jesse was a girl's name and girls couldn't have girlfriends (I was a naïve youth). Then later, I discovered Uncle Jesse on Full House and it all made sense.

Finally, my earliest muck raking:

I used to print a newsletter/pre-zine called the JB Report for my pen pals and friends. For some reason, I hated everything my best friend liked (the movie Dirty Dancing and Paula Abdul). One feature of my newsletter was a sort of gossip column (though I didn't know it at the time). I would just reprint news from my mom's magazines. And any time I found something negative about Paula, I would write about it. This same friend later liked Bon Jovi (this was fifth grade, maybe) and I distinctly remember knocking her for her crush on John Bon Jovi because he looked like a girl (the hair, the earrings)…this was just a few years before my glam period.

and we're dang proud of it (The Devil and Daniel Johnston review)

[originally posted on myspace on Thursday, May 31, 2007]

In the early '90s, I listened to several shows on WKPX religiously. One Saturday (early afternoon, with Keith McIntosh and I can't remember the show name for the life of me, sorry), I heard "Speeding Motorcycle" by Daniel Johnston. His off beat/off kilter voice and the song's sweet and easy lyrics set my teenage-musical heart aflutter. I called in the show to get more information and set out on my search. This was before the internet boom and Amazon, so I ordered a bunch of cassette tapes (and eventually a cool t-shirt, in white, even though my t-shirt preference at the time was black) from mail order.

As only about five people I knew had even heard of him, I felt it my job to spread the word about my discovery. I didn't know it at the time, but Johnston had already been put into the uber-hipster consciousness. In 1985, MTV profiled the music scene in Austin and apparently, Johnston got quite the cult following from his appearance. In 1994, Atlantic released his major label debut, Fun (he had 11 self and indie releases prior and 9 since) and if you knew me at the time, I probably made you listen to the CD while you were in my car. "Speeding Motorcycle" is still one of my favorite songs (since covered by Yo La Tengo and more recently, a cover version ended up in a Target TV ad).

In 2004, The Devil and Daniel Johnston (a doc about Johnston, written and directed by Jeff Feuerzeig) was released. It's obvious from watching that Feuerzeig is a huge Johnston fan, and while the film is very admiring of him and his musical genius, it does not make a martyr out of Johnston. Weaving together interviews with family, friends and business partners with self-confessional audio tapes of Johnston from back in the day, home movies and photographs with more current interviews with Johnston, we see the whole picture, both the good and the bad.

There is a thin line between creative genius and insanity. In Johnston's case, a multitude of issues (a repressive family, drugs, mental illness) help to blur that line. He was born into a conservative, ultra-Christian family in West Virginia, with parents who did not support his creative ventures (making music and movies that often portrayed his mother as critical and domineering). He eventually makes it to Austin (the fateful story of how he ends up there is almost mythic) where talented oddballs are embraced and nurtured. His career has had ups and downs, all documented in this movie. The movie tells a complete story and does not get too heavy handed when covering his past frequent LSD use or his mental illness (in the past, many close to Johnston have objected that some try to market him based on his mental illnesses, not based on his talent). Today, he is still the same free spirit, he is still producing music in his creative explosion of a room; the only difference is now, he's doing international tours.

One of my favorite scenes: backstage at one of Johnston's shows, he is introduced to Matt Groening (of Simpsons fame). Groening tells him he's a fan of his music. Johnston is quiet, a bit distant. You wonder if he's having a bad day or if, maybe, just maybe, he is trying to appear cool and nonchalant to meet someone as huge as Groening. It's a brief chat with Johnston suggesting he do some music for the show (the Simpsons). Groening agrees, seems good with that. Groening excuses himself so that Johnston can get on stage. As soon as Groening is out of earshot, Johnston (a man in his 40s-50s), no longer able to hide his excitement, lets out a giddy yelp comparable to that of a kid who just learned he's going to Disney World.

Daniel Johnston is musically a genius and this documentary is the best presentation of his unique story of his life: religion and repression, heartbreak and unrequited love, and his fascination with cartoon superheroes.