Over the next year Terje Fjelde has agreed to listen to nothing but David Foster on his iPod. He’s loaded the thing with over 1,200 songs produced, arranged, composed, and/or played by David Foster. A deal with the devil? He keeps wondering.
Hey, I’m back! Sort of. Just to set things straight: Gimmicky posts about insanity and snark aside, I really have been quite exhausted over the past few months, and for the last two weeks I have been unable to come up with the weekly 500 words about Mr. Foster that you’ve grown accustomed to. You see, on top of everything else, I’m experiencing a writer’s block. I’ve never encountered anything like it in my entire life, and it’s frustrating beyond belief. I literally have to fight for every single word, no matter how trivial it may seem. My words have dried out, my Twitter account is a desert and I can’t even come up with anything sensible for my Facebook status line anymore. Thank God I’m doing this stuff pro bono. Ah well, life imitates art as they say. Or is it the other way around? Is this what Jeff had in mind?
Anyway, I’ve been blunt about my current health status, so I might as well be blunt about the music. Here we go: David Foster composed the score for this movie in 1988, and I have to admit that I love the Stealing Home soundtrack. I love the sentimentality of it, I love that it’s overloaded with strings and sweet synth sounds and I love the silly love lyrics penned by Foster’s wife for the love theme. I’ve kissed a thousand beautiful women listening to these tunes throughout my youth — well, in my dreams, anyway.
I honestly don’t know where the unabashed love for this kind of kitsch came from, but it’s there and it’s always been there. It’s like a genetic thing, no matter how much I’ve gotten into hard bop and rock and roll in recent years, whenever I’m spinning Stealing Home I’m right back to the acne-infected sentimental sap that used to greet me in the mirror over 20 years ago. I have to face it — I’m a 37-year old guy who likes music that would embarrass 11-year-old girls for its sentimentality. (more…)
Book a seat. David Foster is set to 
Jeff, Popdose’s editor-in-chief, 
When I heard “Love Theme from St. Elmo’s Fire” for the first time in 1985 or 1986, it was the also the first time that I became aware of David Foster. I had a friend at the time, a spoiled little brat who used to sport a white skipper hat and a ponytail, kept about 25 pastel-colored linen suits in the style of Don Johnson in his walk-in closet along with matching espadrillos, and drove a banana-colored Citroen Visa — and of course he and his family were always the innovators: they were the first ones on our street to own a Betamax, the first ones with a modem and he was the first kid to get an Amiga (an ancient personal computer). We always used to laugh at his poor gaming skills, though, especially on this insanely addictive timewaster called Marble Madness, and when we did, he turned all red in the face, promptly turned off his computer and threw us out of the house. Every time. Then we laughed even harder — he was such a poor loser.