Or, alternately:

Awful news, everybody! Adventures Through the Mines of Mellow Gold is back!

The point is: like it or not, we’re back and planning on bringing you more of the lamest, pansy-assiest music from that magical period in the ’70s and ’80s when everybody seemed to misplace their nutsacks.  My hope is to do this once a month (after doing weekly MG postings in ‘07, I found I could no longer sustain an erection), and now that I’ve written it on the Internet, it must be true, right?

Anyway, so away we go!  Let’s see.  I have a nice big Mellow Gold playlist here on iTunes.  I’ll just close my eye and point my mouse at a track, and…

Aw, shit.  Nigel Olsson? What the hell is he doing on here?  Isn’t he just the guy who plays drums in Elton John’s band with the headphones and white gloves and looks like the spawn of David Cassidy and the Cryptkeeper?

Okay, I looked back, and it seems like we can blame a reader named John Anselmo for today’s post, as he suggested Olsson’s one song that cracked the Top 20.  Let me see if I can find his address and we can torch his house.  Kidding, kidding.  Actually, I will defend John’s suggestion, because the song in question fits quite well into the Mellow Gold genre (did we decide if Mellow Gold was a genre?).  It fits so well, actually, that I often hear it, think “this is perfect for Mellow Gold,” promptly forget about it, and then repeat the process.  Wussy, yet utterly forgettable?  I don’t think it could be any more appropriate for this series.

Before we start, though, how about a bit of background on Mr. Olsson?  No?  Too bad. I promise to make it short, though.  Olsson is best known for his drum work with Elton John, having made his first appearance on “Lady, What’s Tomorrow” from Elton’s debut Empty Sky in 1969.  He hasn’t been Elton’s consistent drummer, though; Elton used different drummers from 1975 to 1980 and again throughout the mid-’80s and ’90s.  Since 2000, though, Olsson has been a consistent member of the band both on stage and in the studio, playing drums as well as handling occasional backing vocals.

Still, there were quite a few periods there where Nigel’s services weren’t required by Elton.  (I leave it to you to determine what kind of “services” Elton “requires.”)  So what did he do during those periods?  Well, he played with a few other bands, for starters, including the Spencer Davis Group, Uriah Heep and Hookfoot.  I don’t know who or what Hookfoot is, but it sounds painful.  He also played drums for a few Mellow Gold artists, including as Neil Sedaka (havin’ my babeh!), Leo Sayer and Barbie Benton, who may not be an actual MG artist but gets a mention here because I could have sworn she was a pornstar.  (I just looked it up — she was Hefner’s girlfriend in the ’70s.  I was close.)  And, as I’m sure a certain Popdose staff member might chime in, he was part of the backing band for Michael Dinner’s (who?) album Tom Thumb the Dreamer, which included Bill Champlin and, yes, David Foster.  (David Foster has replaced Michael McDonald as the patron saint of Popdose. I hate you, Terje.)

Olsson also recorded a number of solo albums.  His 1971 debut solo effort was titled Nigel Olsson’s Drum Orchestra and Chorus, which is a slightly fancier way of titling the album Don’t Buy Me.  I guess we should give the man credit, though; it’s not like you could buy the album and be like, “Drum orchestra and chorus?  What the shit?”  I actually have no idea what a “drum orchestra and chorus” sounds like, but I’ve thought about it and I’m okay with it remaining a complete mystery.

His 1975 follow-up album, Nigel Olsson, fared about as well as the one with the drum orchestra and chorus: no success at all.  At this point, Olsson should have realized that maybe he’d be better off removing his name from the albums, because clearly it wasn’t helping his cause.  So in 1978, he released — wait for it — Nigel Olsson.  I’m not kidding.  Two consecutive unsuccessful albums with the same name.

A year later, Olsson finally decided to change his formula.  1979’s release was called — wanna guess? — Nigel.  I’m slamming my head on the desk here.

Even Elton looked at this cover and said, “That’s gay.”

But I guess persistence pays off: Nigel actually yielded a hit or two.  This may be due to the fact that it features production by none other than the late, mellow Paul Davis.  Or maybe radio agreed to play a couple of tracks as long as Olsson stopped using his name in the album titles.  Either way, “Dancin’ Shoes,” the track we’re discussing today (took me long enough, right?), reached #18 on the Billboard Top 40 in late January of 1979.

Let’s listen, shall we?

Nigel Olsson — Dancin’ Shoes (download)

Oooh, listen to that soft opening!  So soft!  So smooth! So Fogelbergy! (New adjective.)  But then, just like that, we’re whisked into a gentle rhythm that is making me think less about “Dancin’ Shoes” and more about Walter Egan’s “Magnet and Steel” or, even worse, the Eagles’ cover of Tom Waits’ “Ol’ 55.”  As is typical with most Mellow Gold songs, the guitar is given short shrift over drums and bass (especially drums — I wonder why?), light strings and, of course, those sweet backing vocals.  This song could be completely a capella and would still be a MG classic with those backing vocals.

But what is Nigel talking about, anyway?

Too many long conversations
And no one is hearing a word

Which, by the way, is what happens when you release four albums with your name in the title, but whatever.

Just trying to escape the frustrations
Till a song in the night can be heard

Okay, I think I’m getting it.  So basically, when life is getting tedious and annoying, the best way to escape is to hear a song and … huh, the chorus is here already.  That was quick.

Put on your dancin’ shoes
Throw out those one night blues
Here’s one to love and to chance
For a spin on that wheel of romance

Here’s one what?  One night? One song? One woman? One man?  I guess we’re talking about the song, and this is the song in question.  But here’s where I start to have a problem.  Imagine you were looking at these lyrics all alone, without any accompanying music.  You’d think, okay, this song is clearly about cheering oneself up through the joy of dancing.  You’re not just forgetting the blues, you’re throwing ‘em out, right?  It’s party time!  Oooh yeah! Put on your dancin’ shoes!  Take a spin on that wheel of romance!  (Sorry, I meant to warn you: shitty lyric alert.  Too late!)

Now, when I listen to the music … well, I don’t know about you, but this song does not make me want to put on my dancin’ shoes.  This song makes me want to do the exact opposite of putting on my dancin’ shoes. This song makes me want to find my dancin’ shoes and throw them at my 8-track player.  This song makes me want to curl up into the fetal position in the corner of my house and cry myself to sleep.  Holy crap, this is Mellow Gold!

But what the hell.  Let’s continue.

Too slow to unriddle all your problems

Did Nigel just call the guy retarded?

Too lonely for someone to care

Now this line, I’m totally feeling.  This song sounds like the kind of song someone really lonely sings over and over again, to the point where you’re like, “You know what? Be lonely. I’m going out to get laid.”

Long, lonely silence keeps haunting
Till the song in the night finds you there

That last line is just not redeeming enough for me to feel the happiness I want to feel when talking about putting on my dancin’ shoes.  I don’t think a line exists that could make me feel better after the lyrical death rattle of “long, lonely silence keeps haunting.”

But I digress. We get another chorus, the guitarist gets to do a bit of noodling, then we have a bridge of sorts that offers a shot at redemption.

A face like an angel, she’s waiting
She smiles and looks over at you
You yearn for this situation
Now finally your dreams have come true

Again, if you were to just read these lyrics and not actually listen to the song, you might think that this scenario is somewhat realistic: after two choruses of “put on your dancin’ shoes,” you would imagine that the shoes are on, they’ve been danced in, and now a lady is suddenly interested in this situation you’ve, uh, yearned for.  (Man, is that line awkward.)  However, in listening to the overall rhythm and feel of this song, the only condition I’m feeling is “pathetic.”  But I’m not supposed to feel anything else, really, am I?  Success is not a Mellow Gold theme.  Loneliness, desperation and maybe a slight twinge of begging thrown in for good measure: now those are Mellow Gold themes.

Nigel’s not really to blame, though.  He didn’t write the song.  The song was written by Carl Storie, who recorded the song with Faith Band in 1978.  I don’t know much about Faith Band.  I do know two things: one, they released a record entitled Excuse Me…I Just Cut An Album, which I think is awesome, and two, they released their version of “Dancin’ Shoes” on the exact same date as Olsson — December 16, 1978 — but their version only peaked at #54. You can hear the original version here as introduced by Music Mike. I take no responsibility for the still images displayed throughout the song.

Music Mike, uncomfortable on screen as he may be, is correct: both versions are pretty good, and actually, they’re not much different from one another. Olsson’s version is slightly more polished.  However, I’m giving the upper hand to Faith Band.  You know why?  Because Olsson’s version has a completely unnecessary truck driver’s gear change.  I think I know why he put it there, too: he wanted an opportunity to gift us with a completely useless drum fill, and the only way to justify it was with a key change at the end. And the minute I heard that fill, I just knew the key change was coming, which somehow makes it worse.  Like, I knew it was coming and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.  And it happens with barely 45 seconds left, of which 15 seconds are occupied by a fade-out; again, I’m convinced it was all for the drum fill.  I can’t imagine such a stroke of ego by someone who included his name in five out of six album releases.

Olsson did have one more hit reach the Top 40, and it was from the same album: “Little Bit of Soap” made it to #34.  I’m sure there are readers who remember “Little Bit of Soap.”  We thank you to keep it to yourselves.  I’ve had quite enough of Nigel and his so-called dancin’ shoes, thank you very much.

Ugh, this is what I brought this series back for?  Hopefully we’ll find a better song in the weeks to come.  Keep your fingers crossed, and until then, stay neutered!

Happy ninth day of Mellowmas! Today, we’re sad to say that we’re skewering a truly brilliant artist: none other than Fats Domino. We really didn’t want to, but…well, you’ll see.

Jason: Jeff, I know you’re wondering why I picked this track.

Jeff: Well, yeah.

Jason: I mean, Fats Domino?

Jeff: Fats Domino is a legend.

Jason: He is.

Jeff: Thirty-seven Top 40 singles!

Jason: A brilliant piano player. A fine, fine musician.

Jeff: The man too tough for Katrina to beat!

Jason: A real rootsy musician.

Jeff: A humanitarian, even.

Jason: Go ahead. Start the track.

Fats Domino — Frosty the Snowman (download)

From Christmas is a Special Day (formerly Christmas Gumbo)  Amazon iTunes

Jeff: Hmm. There seems to be some kind of mistake.

Jason: Hey, we have Fats Domino in the studio! I know what we’ll do! We’ll have him sing to a DRUM MACHINE!

Jeff: And take away his piano!

Jason: SERIOUSLY! I mean, the horns are real, so we have that. But that’s about it.

Jeff: Are we sure this is Fats Domino?

Jason: It is! His vocal is okay. He sounds a bit like Shirley Q. Liquor, but the vocal’s not bad. I’m just appalled that they gave him this idiotic track.

Jeff: Ha ha ha! Shirley Q. Liquor!

Jason: I mean, it’s Fats Domino! Show some fucking respect, you know?

Jeff: Damn straight!

Jason: I mean, the bass part is right off a Casio.

Jeff: This is bullshit.

Jason: I agree.

Jeff: I blame Daryl Dragon.

Jason: Fats deserves better, doesn’t he? I just found a blog post where people just gush over this track. How can you gush over this track?

Jeff: This is one of the lamest versions of this song I have ever heard, and it’s a pretty lame song to begin with.

Jeff: I think I found the post you’re talking about. “The Fat Man Plays It Smooth for Frosty.”

Jason: That’s the one.

Jeff: “A nice, gently funky groove”?

Jason: And the version they have there is a bit different. It’s in a different key with a different intro, but the track is exactly the same. Which means either that guy’s version is slow or ours is fast. But the backing track remains the same.

Jeff: I haven’t found any other information.

Jason: I never thought this day would come — a day when a respected, genius artist like Fats Domino would wind up being part of Mellowmas. I’m getting angrier and angrier by the minute. Who produced this? What did Fats ever do to these guys? Can we light their house on fire?

Jeff:Perhaps it’s best if we listen to anything else by Fats Domino.

Jason: Even if it’s not Christmas.

Jeff: Absolutely. I’d rather hear Richie Cunningham singing “Blueberry Hill” at this point.

Oh my God, look at this.

Jason: Wow. It gets stellar reviews! Released in ‘93?

Jeff: One commenter describes it as “chocolate frosting on an already yummy musical cake,” or something like that. Fats has awful, awful fans.

Jason: Am I crazy here? Be honest. Because everybody seems to love this, and I don’t get it. I mean, where’s the PIANO?

Jeff: I’ve had it on a loop since we started talking about it, and I’m probably not the best person to judge anyone’s sanity at this point. I’m terribly disillusioned.

Jason: Yeah, I know.

Jeff: Fats cut an entire Christmas album, and this was on it. He must have wanted to do it.

Jason: I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this to you. Or anybody else.
I love Fats.

Jeff: Well, look at the bright side — everyone else will probably love it.

Jason: Okay. So if our readers love it, are you going to jump to their side or are you standing strong with me on the “what the shit is this?” side?

Jeff: It just started in my headphones again. I’m definitely standing strong. This sucks.

Jason: Thank you. Hippity hop hop.

Jeff: I hope you had massive gambling debts, Fats. Or were behind on your child support payments or something. ANYTHING.

Jason: I’m afraid the reason was like, “I love Christmas, and I think the technology in some of these new 48-note Casios is just stunning.”

Jeff: Sigh

Jason: Or “I love Christmas, and I thought, who needs real drums? Or bass? Or piano?” I’m just sad now.

Jeff: It’s starting again.

Jason: I’m going back to watching a video of “Ain’t That a Shame.”

Jeff: I’m going to claw my headphones off and go lie down for awhile. Thanks for passing this along, you fucker.

Jason: Hippity hop hop, buddy.

It’s amazing sometimes to see how music brings the world together.

I was food shopping with my wife last week and “867-5309/Jenny” by Tommy Tutone was playing in the store. Even though I’m not a big fan of most of the larger hits of the ’80s, it was the only song that caught my ear the entire time I was there. After the song ended, I found myself whistling it through the next few aisles. About five minutes later, this goth-looking dude with a ton of tattoos passed me and was singing the chorus. Not long after that I passed a couple that had to be in their 70s, and the old man was repeating the famous phone number to his wife. So, at least five minutes after “867-5309″ was over, there was me, a goth kid, and an old man all still being entertained by it. Somewhere the guys from Tommy Tutone are smiling.

NEW SOUNDS FOR THE COLLECTION:
Riot, Restless Breed
Accept, Metal Heart
Europe, Wings of Tomorrow
Johnny Gill, Johnny Gill
Axe, Offering

This week we look at the final nine artists whose names begin with the letter C as we give you 15 more Bottom Feeders from the Billboard Hot 100 chart in the ’80s.

Crowded House
“World Where You Live” — 1987, #65 (download)
“Better Be Home Soon” — 1988, #42 (download)

Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over” is my second-favorite song of the decade. Unfortunately, that didn’t translate into a love for Crowded House. I know there are a lot of people who think both their self-titled debut and their second record, Temple of Low Men, are great albums, but to me they’re both pretty boring.

The Crusaders
“I’m So Glad I’m Standing Here Today” — 1981, #97 (download)

Here’s a sweet little funky jazz ballad, with Joe Cocker singing lead. This was off their 14th album, Standing Tall; it was their final charting song.

Billy Crystal
“You Look Marvelous” — 1985, #58 (download)

You gotta love this track, which sprung from the popular catchphrase Crystal used on Saturday Night Live when he played Fernando Lamas. The two greatest lines of the song have to be “I love you young people today with your rock ‘n’ roll, like that Eddie Van Heflin” — the background singers chime in with “Van Halen!” — and “Dancing to me is like standing still, only faster.” The only surprising thing about the song is the full-blown dance beat. It certainly works well, though, and yields the first comedy track in the Bottom Feeders series that’s actually funny.

Cugini
“Let Me Sleep Alone” — 1980, #88 (download)

As far as I can tell, this disco track is the A-side to the only single Don Cugini ever released. The seven-inch was released on then-indie label Scotti Brothers, who didn’t list anything else with his moniker. Of all the songs we’ve visited in this series so far, “Let Me Sleep Alone” was the hardest to come by for my collection. An eBay search today will yield no results.

The Cult
“Fire Woman” — 1989, #46 (download)
“Edie (Ciao Baby)” — 1989, #93 (download)

The first of multiple shockers in this week’s post, it’s unbelievable that “Fire Woman” only reached #46, as it’s one of the best rock songs of the entire decade. It’s #66 on my Top 80 Songs of the ‘80s list. “Edie” ain’t chump change, either. Both the Cult’s album Sonic Temple — which these two appeared on — and their previous record, Electric, are great albums to crank as you burn down the highway.

The Cure
“In Between Days” — 1986, #99 (download)
“Why Can’t I Be You?” — 1987, #54 (download)
“Hot Hot Hot!!!” — 1988, #65 (download)
“Fascination Street” — 1989, #46 (download)
“Lullaby” — 1989, #74 (download)

Although they released great singles like “The Lovecats,” “Let’s Go to Bed,” and “A Forest” prior to these songs, “In Between Days” was the first Cure song to hit the Hot 100, but barely. Both “Why Can’t I Be You?” and “Hot Hot Hot!!!” were much better suited for college radio than the big time, but both “Fascination Street” and “Lullaby” are the other shockers of this post — knowing how huge the Disintegration album was, I’m blown away that both songs weren’t bigger hits. They’re #69 and #17 respectively on my Top 80 Songs of the ‘80s list.

Curiosity Killed the Cat
“Misfit” — 1987, #42 (download)

This is actually a pretty decent song, but the only hit for Britain’s Curiosity Killed the Cat. The terrible video for “Misfit” was directed by Andy Warhol. Doesn’t Julian look a little bit like John Cusack?

Curtie & the Boombox
“Black Kisses (Never Make You Blue)” — 1985, #81 (download)

This is a pretty craptacular song, and it doesn’t help that the band went with such a dumb name. The only reason this was even a minor hit is because it fit right in with everything else on the radio in 1985.

Cutting Crew
“(Between A) Rock and a Hard Place” — 1989, #77 (download)

Most people seem to think that Cutting Crew were one-hit wonders thanks to the #1 smash “(I Just) Died in Your Arms” being on every ‘80s compilation disc in existence. But they followed it up with “I’ve Been in Love Before,” a #9 hit, and another Top 40 song called “One for the Mockingbird.” “(Between A) Rock and a Hard Place” doesn’t get anywhere close to the quality of those songs, but at least now that I’ve listened to it again I can get the Rolling Stones’ shitty “Rock and a Hard Place” out of my head.

QUICK HITS:
Best song — The Cure, “Lullaby”
Worst song — Cutting Crew, “(Between a) Rock and a Hard Place”

Next week we move to the fourth letter of the alphabet, baby! That’s hot hot hot!!!

Eric Clapton – “I’ve Got a Rock and Roll Heart”

Dave: Did Clapton have to record this to pay back the writers for lending him money for blow? This record is such a piece of dogshit that a couple of Phil Collins-produced records and selling out to Michelob were considered a “return to form.” And that lyric “I get off on screaming guitars” would be horrible even if the guitar lick actually, you know, screamed. Maybe the problem was that he was too busy removing his dick from the tailpipe of a ‘57 Chevy to realize his tone sucked.

Scott: What do you have against a man and his masturbatory habits, David? When Clapton recorded this song, he’d kicked drugs for the first time; he needed something to get his rocks off. Still, this song isn’t that bad. It’s an natural extension of the drug fueled reggae influenced shuffles he churned out in the 70’s, except this time he was sober. Maybe “I get off” was a bad selection of words, but when you look at the charts from 1983 (Men at Work, Human League, Culture Club) who the hell expected this song to be a hit? Certainly not Clapton. The look of his face on the cover of “Money and Cigarettes” tells it all: “I don’t give a shit. I’m Eric Clapton.” I’m sure some dumb ass exec enthusiastically told him that this song was a bona fide hit. To which Clapton most likely replied, “Fuck it, ya poofter, release whatever god damn song you want. I’m ERIC FUCKING CLAPTON! Now bring me a Trans Am, I’m through with that saggy old Chevy.” Seriously, the song’s obviously a throwaway that became a fluke hit. How else do you explain him selling his soul to the devil and teaming up with Phil Collins?

Dave: Come on, Scott. Once Clapton cleaned up and got legit with George Harrison’s wife, everything cool was sucked right out of him. Since then he hasn’t so much recorded as much as called up his triple-scale session buddies like Duck Dunn and Albert Lee for a royalty-filled snoozefest on the record company’s dime. Roger Hawkins hasn’t sounded this bad since Aretha ate his floor tom down in Muscle Shoals back in ‘68. My guess is that Carla Bruni heard this song a few years ago, then went running to Nicholas Sarkozy to ease the trauma. By the way, I don’t doubt that Clapton has a rock and roll heart. What bothers me is that he has a Mellow Gold scrotum.

Lou Reed – “Rock and Roll Heart”

Scott: Excuse, I had to shut off my Honda scooter and turn down “Walk on the Wild Side” blasting through my stereo. Speaking of sellouts, our next song is by Lou Reed, a man who has shoved his dick into just about everything that breathes, and possibly even picked up Clapton’s sloppy seconds on the ‘57 Chevy. We all know that Lou is a poet first and a rocker second. Alas, poetry doesn’t sell records, so we wind up with mediocre songs like this one that Lou hoped would entice people to lay down their hard earned cash and rock out. Screaming guitar aside, nothing Lou does in this song is original. And the lyrics are plain lame. Then again, maybe the eternal New York hipster was just trying to be “ironic.” Let’s all be glad that Lou quickly regained his senses after “Rock and Roll Heart” and went back to writing obtuse, esoteric paeans about junkies, prostitutes and affairs of the heart. At least, until he started hawking cheap Vespa rip-offs and tried to make us believe he’d actually be seen riding one around New York City.

Dave: So tortured was I by that Clapton song that I took a cocktail of Percoset and Valium, from which I have only now awoke with my soul scrubbed. Yeah, I’ll grant that Lou Reed’s “Rock & Roll Heart” hardly rises to the levels of his earlier rock n’ roll-named works, but at least it RAWKS! And it’s only got three chords, which is the very definition of rock n’ roll. Also, Lou knows that, if you’re going to write a song about rock n’ roll, ripping off the organ part from “Like A Rolling Stone” is the way to go. But Scott, I can’t understand how you can write for an pop culture website celebrated for its irreverence and choose Clapton over Lou Reed. If Lester Bangs were alive he’d spit in your face. Then he’d apologize and ask you to split a bottle of Robitussin.

Scott: I’ve just returned from getting my ass kicked in the back alley by Lou Reed, Bowie and Iggy Pop. When they were through, Rob Wasserman’s bass could be heard playing somewhere in the distance and I saw the ghosts of Andy Warhol, Basquiat and Edie Sedgwick rolling around in my blood. Lester Bangs was there, too, extolling the virtues of Grand Funk (until he threw up). Look, David, I agree that the majority of Clapton’s lyrics are trite, especially “I’ve Got A Rock and Roll Heart” (”Layla,” though, will stand the test of time), but at least he’s accessible. And when Lou tries to be accessible, he mostly comes up with formulaic songs like “Rock and Roll Heart.” I like accessible, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing for a website that champions the likes of Toto, Hall & Oates and The Hooters, as well as The Watson Twins and They Might Be Giants. My feeling is that Lou should stick to the poetry-in-music art form that he’s mastered, and that Clapton should stick to the blues (cause this whole Adult Contemporary bullshit he’s been doing for the past ten years makes me want to shoot myself).

Now, David, what I really want to know is whether you like Eric Clapton’s “I Can’t Stand It” or Lou Reed’s “I Can’t Stand It” better.

No, wait, don’t cut me off. Dude, this could really be good. Dude? Dude?

Damn.

Last episode, Dramarama scored a solid victory over Pearl Jam, taking home an filibuster-proof 60% of the votes. In other news, Mojo Flucke has removed one of his white gloves and cast it on the ground at Jeff Giles feet, and thus demanded satisfaction. Jeff, in turn, took up the glove and slapped Mojo across the face with it, and thus the challenge was accepted. As to the affront, it remains unknown, and it is suspected that neither of these gentlemen shall willingly air the cause of his grievance. Their seconds have agreed that the weapons to be used shall be Rockets. Join us in two weeks as they settle their dispute and face off at dawn on the Song-Off field of honor.

“Napoleon once said, when asked to explain the lack of great statesmen in the world, that to get power you need to display absolute pettiness. To exercise power, you need to show true greatness. Such pettiness and such greatness are rarely found in one person. I look upon the events of the past weeks, and I’ve never come so to grips with that quotation … Your leadership has raised the stakes of hate to a level where we can no longer separate the demagogue from the truly inspired.”
–President Jackson Evans (Jeff Bridges) in The Contender (2000)

Rod Lurie’s political films remind me of a college professor whose classes I simultaneously loved and hated: you had to sort through a lot of annoying bullshit to get to the brilliant insight at the end. (I figure I’m going to pay for that sentence in the comments section. Have at it!) Nevertheless, I happened to catch the last 15 minutes of The Contender on the tube Sunday morning, right after John Kerry nearly bitch-slapped the utterly deserving Joe Lieberman on Meet the Press, and that quarter-hour (like Lieberman’s performance) fairly reeked of the colossal stench John McCain’s campaign has been emitting for the past couple weeks.

In particular, the last line from Bridges’s speech begs to be viewed in the context of this presidential race. The Republican Party’s entire modus operandi, in the absence of any ideas that resonate with the American people, is now to render the electorate incapable of “separat[ing] the demagogue from the truly inspired.”

McCain once promised that things were going to be different this time. In April he said, point blank, “This will be a respectful campaign. Americans want a respectful campaign … they’re tired of the attacks. They’re tired of impugning people’s character and integrity. They want a respectful campaign — and I am of the firm belief that they can get it and they will get it if the American people demand it, and reject the negative stuff that goes on.”

McCain has never been a man whose phraseology demanded parsing, the way the Clintons’ does — or the way every utterance of the Bush White House demands to have the lies and fiction sifted from the mere stonewalling. But the last piece of that McCain quote may hold the key to the cowardice he has exhibited in recent weeks.

“If the American people demand it, and reject the negative stuff that goes on.” That’s a big “if,” and McCain now seems to be using it as an excuse for his current behavior.

Unfortunately, while “the people” always say they dislike negative campaigning, they far too often fall for it. McCain knows this from experience — from his own demolition at the hands of Karl Rove’s gutter politics in South Carolina in 2000, and from the way Bush’s jackals tore apart Max Cleland’s patriotism in 2002 and Kerry’s military record in 2004.

McCain, particularly as a Navy man, ought to know better after all that. He claimed to know better, promised he knew better. But then, he long claimed to be all about honor and duty and country and bravery and all that stuff.

Well, that’s all gone now. Forget about the Hanoi Hilton, forget about campaign finance reform, forget about all that “maverick” hoo-hah. There’s no honor, no bravery in “he’d rather lose a war to win an election” or “he’s played the race card from the bottom of the deck” or the Britney/Paris ad or the “Moses” ad. For McCain, there’s only cowardice — the cowardice of acting on the belief that he can’t win on the issues, or on a comparison of the candidates’ real characters, but only by creating a bogeyman.

Of course, McCain probably never imagined in April that things would turn out this way. But then, how many of us imagined that by the end of July Obama’s judgment on Iraq would have been validated by the Iraqi government, or that his judgment on Afghanistan and Pakistan and Iran would have been validated by the Bushies themselves? We all knew McCain didn’t have a prayer on the economy, but it must have come as something of a shock when Obama was revealed as an oracle on foreign policy as well.

Obama’s arrival back home last weekend, hailed as a genius on at least three continents and with unbeatable press coverage in the States, sparked McCain’s descent into full-on desperation. At the beginning of the week McCain tried to convince us that a candidate whose message of renewed American leadership resonated with foreign audiences must be viewed suspiciously here at home — because heaven forbid the world come to respect and admire the USA again! By the end of the week, Obama’s enormous substantive achievements on his trip had been boiled down to the dismissive phrase “he’s the biggest celebrity in the world” — bigger than Brit! Bigger than Paris!

How pathetic. So far McCain and the Republicans have made this campaign all about Obama: Is he ready? Is he right? (Is he a Muslim? Is he a Black Panther? Is he a himbo? Is he — as the Wall Street Journal has asked — too thin, and therefore not enough like us fatty Americans?) But McCain soon is going to find out that this election’s really a referendum on him and his party — their abject failures, their lack of ideas or vision, their corruption — and, yes, their (and his) cowardice.

Until then, the only course for Obama is full speed ahead. By putting up roadblocks to your hospital visit in Germany, George Bush’s Pentagon sought to create exactly the situation they did, and you fell for it. Screw Bush’s Pentagon, and the rest of the executive bureaucracy — it’s now a wholly owned subsidiary of the McCain campaign.

By comparing you to Britney and Paris, the McCain campaign sought to plant the idea that your popularity and inspiration are a liability, not a positive. (They also reprised the black man-white woman juxtaposition that served Tennessee’s Bob Corker so well in his Senate victory against Harold Ford in 2006.) Screw them! Go to Denver this month, stand before 75,000 adoring devotees and give the speech of your life.

By citing one of your standard stump-speech lines and suddenly claiming that you’re “playing the race card,” McCain and his campaign were trying less to attack you than to inoculate themselves from responsibility for the hideous, cowardly attacks they’re plotting. (“He played the race card first; we’re just responding,” you can just imagine them saying.) Screw them! Your job is to make independents comfortable with the idea of you in the White House, and your race is part of your “riskiness.” Keep right on making light-hearted reference to that discomfort — and keep your powder dry for the Republican attack machine that we all know is just getting started.

As for McCain: You want to be president? Give us a few good reasons why. Defend your domestic policies, and explain how they’re going to solve the economic mess we’re in. Come up with a real plan for solving our oil crisis — not gimmicks like a gas-tax holiday or increased drilling — or else admit that there is no short-term solution. Explain why you remain wedded to an indefinite presence in Iraq when the Iraqis themselves clearly want us out. Convince us that we should trust a Republican executive branch for four more years when even you suggest that the last eight have been such a god-awful shambles.

This is not going to be a pretty autumn for the Republican Party. You are most likely going to lose this election, and even if you manage to win you almost certainly will face increased Democratic majorities in Congress. If you squeak your way to victory only because you stick to the low road and create a caricature of, yes, our first African-American nominee that you know full well has no basis in reality, then you and your policies will run into a buzzsaw of historic proportions.

In short, the only way for you to emerge from this campaign with your beloved “honor” intact is to pull your campaign out of the sewer and return to your high-minded promises of the spring. Win or lose this election on the issues, not on character assassination, and force your party to do the same.

Stop being a coward, Senator McCain, and start being a man.

We’ll talk about Paul Davis: The Man, The Myth, The Gentle in a minute. First, let’s get into the music.

Paul Davis – I Go Crazy (download)

What problem might I have with “I Go Crazy,” you may be wondering. It’s a valid question. After all, it’s pretty enough. Gentle vocal (and some unexpected ventures into the bass range). Light, unobtrusive strings. A 5-note riff on the keyboard after the chorus, stolen from Dennis DeYoung’s “Babe,” (update: reader Jhensy has pointed out that “Babe” came out after this single, so if anything, DeYoung is the dirty thief) that is guaranteed to become an earworm (or, near the end of the song, a buzzing fly). I don’t quite get the bluesy keyboard riffing at the end, but I’ll forgive it.

My problem is this.

Think of the songs you know that mention “going crazy” somehow in the title. I came up with “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince, “I Go Crazy” by Queen (a b-side, but I’m a big Queen fan) and of course, who could forget the classic “Goin’ Crazy!” by David Lee Roth? (all of us, apparently.)

But here’s my point. All of these songs that mention going crazy have a sound reminiscent of someone perhaps, oh, I don’t know…going crazy. Not Paul Davis, however.

Here. Just for the hell of it, here’s a crude mashup of the four tracks. Excuse the sonic quality; I’m trying to prove a point. Tell me if one of these things is not like the others.

“Crazy” Mash-Up

At no point in “I Go Crazy” does Paul Davis actually sound like he’s really going crazy. Going Introspective? Maybe. Going Doubtful and Inquisitive? Sure. But we all know what this song should have been called. It should have been called “I Go Mellow.”

If Paul Davis is indeed going crazy when he looks in her eyes, then my friends, it’s the wussiest kind of crazy there could ever be. And that’s why it’s in the mines of Mellow Gold.

So listen back to those vocals. If you don’t already know what Paul Davis looks like, get an image in your head.

Whatcha got? Accountant? Small lil’ guy, neat, black hair? Maybe a suit? That’s what I’ve got. In fact, if you do a Google image search for Paul Davis, many images seem like they could be him.

This is Paul “I Go Crazy” Davis.

Motherfucker looks like Gregg Allman! This guy should be … I don’t know. Ripping a mean guitar solo? Smoking dope? Having his way with women? And instead, he’s approaching them gently, and giving them the message that he’d like to love them just a little bit, and if they’re not happy with it, then TOO DAMN BAD, WOMAN then it’s okay, they can leave, they don’t have to stay. He doesn’t want to offend anyone. (Looks down at the ground, shyly, shuffles his feet)

Which brings us to song #2.

Paul Davis – Cool Night (download)

I ask you this: do they get any smoother? Any more mellow? I seriously don’t think it’s possible.

Like “I Go Crazy,” this song is actually quite pretty. Gentle, unobtrusive backing vocals. This one actually has a drum beat to it, which means that it’s considered a Paul Davis “rock” song, I suppose. There are two main differences between “I Go Crazy” and “Cool Night,” however: the first difference is that “Cool Night” sounds exactly like you’d expect it to sound. Unlike track 1, we’re not expecting Paul Davis to go batshit insane on a song called “Cool Night.”

The other difference happens at 2:33. Paul Davis actually does go a little crazy. He lets his Gregg Allman-esque hair down and does something truly ballsy: KEY CHANGE!

I love the key change. When I sing this song to myself, I never have the patience to get to the chorus after the guitar solo. I always do the key change right away. That’s how much I love the key change.

My buddy Mike sums up the emotion behind many of the Mellow Gold hits:

“I love you so much that I will never bother you again” or “come on baby, just allow me to be in your beatific presence and I will not even think of putting any kind of sexual move on you. I promise.”

That’s “Cool Night” in a nutshell. “If it don’t feel right, you can go.” I almost can’t believe he’s making the statement. A guy who looks like that? Come ON! I keep wondering if it’s a Jedi mind trick of some sort. Does the woman stay? Does she leave him to go find the guy from Firefall? (Whoa!) It’s a mystery, friends. A cool, mellow mystery.

I was going to end this post after two songs, but what the hell. Paul Davis had one more Mellow Gold hit in the ’80s.

Paul Davis – ‘65 Love Affair (download)

Or as I like to call it, “The Boy From New York City.” I mean, come on. Right from the first few notes, I heard the similarities – and this was before the “doo-wop didddy-wop-diddy-wop doo” bit. Hmmm…the keyboard part in “I Go Crazy,” and now this…is Paul Davis pulling a Robbie Dupree?

If “Cool Night” was considered Paul Davis’ “rock sound,” “‘65 Love Affair” features him firmly ensconsed in the “speed metal” phase of his career. Could we have done something about those drums? How about that awful 2-beat hit that’s supposed to sound like clapping or…something?

I’m not saying that Davis didn’t do a semi-respectable job of resurrecting the golden-oldie soul sound. However, the lyrics leave a little tons to be desired: “Well I asked you like a dum-dum/You were bad with your pom-poms/You said, ‘ooh wah go team ooh wah go!’ Ooh-ee baby I want you to know/” And he does mention in the chorus:”‘65 love affair, we wasn’t getting nowhere.” I wonder if it’s because he told the girl she could leave if it didn’t feel right?

“I Go Crazy,” “Cool Night,” “‘65 Love Affair.” I’m using all of these songs to make a point. That point is this: Paul Davis is a sissy.

I kid, I kid. I give Paul Davis credit, actually: the pop sensibilities of both “‘65 Love Affair” and “Cool Night” were a departure from his previous country sound, and Davis was so disgusted with the commercialization of his music that he essentially quit the business altogether. Can you blame him? Look at those “‘65 Love Affair” lyrics again. Also, here’s a crazy fact: Paul Davis was shot in 1986…and survived! (No word on whether he was shot by the woman who left because it didn’t feel right.)

Although Paul is no longer with us, we know that up to his death, he lived in Mississippi and liked to fish.

You have to wonder, though: did Paul Davis kill the fish? Did he catch it and tell it that it could go back in the water with the other fishes if it wasn’t happy? When the boat stalled, did he mutter “I Go Crazy?”

Hope you enjoyed this expedition into the Mines of Mellow Gold!

Rumors of the death of Adventures Through The Mines Of Mellow Gold have been greatly exaggerated. You know the old saying, friends: once a wuss, always a wuss. But you know how it goes. You listen to nothing but mellow music for a whole year, you end up in therapy, and who’s there to pay the bill? Benny Mardones? I think not. He has problems of his own. So you can expect this mellow tradition to continue here on Popdose, albeit at a slower pace.

Today, though, I’m unbelievably excited to share with you a Mellow Gold gem, but one with a twist. Forget about the subservient male; today’s artist cares little for the feelings of the fairer of the sexes, and is damn proud of it.

Paul Anka – (You’re) Having My Baby (download)

I have wanted to write about this song for such a long time. Every time I hear it, I can only think one thing: Man, is Paul Anka a selfish assclown. There, I said it. But I wouldn’t just make such a bold statement without backing it up, would I? (I totally would.)

Paul Anka, all tan and smug

Let’s start with the title: “(You’re) Having My Baby.” That’s right, sweetie-pie: you are so unimportant to Paul right now that you’re reduced to a parenthetical. And listen to him sing it — he barely says the word at all. If anything, it’s a murmur. It’s the least important word in the entire song. First verse:

(You’re) havin’ my baby
What a lovely way of sayin’ how much you love me
(You’re) havin’ my baby
What a lovely way of sayin’ what you’re thinkin’ of me

Ladies of 1974, let me hear you. I need you to assure me that you listened to this bullshit — sung in harmony by two men, as if the douchebag needed his unemployed best friend Larry to come over and join in — and you were okay with it. I know 1974 was a very long time ago, and things have certainly changed since then. But come on — it was 1974, not 1955! Maude had already had her abortion two years prior! Women’s lib was not exactly something new. And yet you all allowed Paul to lay down the law. You pretty much paid him bags of money to do it, too. This song wound up climbing all the way to #1, and I’m squarely laying the blame on you. Don’t try to blame it on the men: although the macho guys may have agreed with the song’s sentiment, not one of us would have gotten past the first six notes, accentuated by some wussbag on the flute. Except maybe Randy VanWarmer. He would have been cool with it.

Moving on:

I can see it
Your face is glowin’
I can see it your eyes
I’m happy in knowin’
That (you’re) havin’ my baby.

Ladies, don’t you kind of love it when Paul tells you exactly what’s going on with you? Your face is glowin’, baby. No, it’s not sweat. It’s NOT SWEAT! It’s…glow. Stop crying. Stop crying! I know you’re emotional, but listen. (You’re) havin’ my baby.

You’re the woman I love and I love what it’s doin’ to yuh
(You’re) havin’ my baby
You’re a woman in love and I love what’s goin’ through yuh

And yes, it’s “yuh,” not “you” or even “ya.” I don’t think Paul Anka talks like this in real life, nor do I think this is representative of his typical style of singing. However, in order to truly convey this specific level of male dominance, you really need to get laaaazy on those vowels. There’s nothing really wrong with that first sentence, but I absolutely adore “you’re a woman in love” — any smart woman who’s heard the first sixty seconds of this song is going to counter with “Don’t you DARE tell me what I am!” — and I also love “I love what’s goin’ through yuh.” Can we please take up a pool and buy Paul Anka a goddamn baby book? With the royalties from Rock Swings, I’m sure we could almost purchase an e-book. I admit that I am not a father, and thus have never experienced all the intricacies of pregnancy. However, I’m 99.99% sure that the baby doesn’t actually go through anything until it’s actually time to push that lil’ bastard out the door. During pregnancy, the only thing goin’ through yuh is last night’s quesadilla.

This, of course, leads to one horrible, frightening thought: What if Paul Anka is actually singing this song while she’s in labor? Can you imagine? (Holy cow, I have an idea. More on this in a second.)

Don’t look now, everybody: here comes his female counterpart, Odia Coates, to absolutely reiterate every single thing Paul Anka just mandated. As Paul sings “(You’re) Havin’ My Baby,” his lady partner echoes back: “I’m a woman in love and I love what it’s doin’ to me / I’m a woman in love and I love what’s goin’ through me.” NO, Odia! You’re making it worse! I can’t imagine it was long before Ms. Coates received a hand-delivered telegram from Gloria Steinem.

It wasn’t as if the entire nation turned a deaf ear to the sexist sentiments of this song: the National Organization of Women awarded Paul Anka the “Keep Her in Her Place” award for his unabashed display of male chauvinism. (Also receiving the award? Seals & Crofts for their song “Unborn Child.” No joke. Surely a song with a lyric such as “You’re still a-clingin’ to the tree of life, but soon you’ll be cut off before you get ripe” deserves a prize, but I’m not so sure it’s this one.)

Didn’t have to keep it
Wouldn’t put you through it
You could have swept it from your life
But you wouldn’t do it

Awesome. We just went from a sexist love song to a pro-life anthem in under 2:30. Bravo, Paul Anka.

I’m feeling a little bad about this Anka attack. (Ankattack?) Maybe I should try to play devil’s advocate. After all, men do pretty much get shafted (no pun intended) when it comes to this whole pregnancy thing. It’s all about the mommy-to-be. Nobody ever asks how the daddy-to-be is holding up, how he’s feeling emotionally, or if he needs any help during this exciting but also challenging time. And we all know the reason why: all we did, guys, was stick our thing in that thing. We’re not walking around with morning sickness, longing for the days when we could see our feet, wondering why a pickle dipped in a pint of Chunky Monkey tastes so damn delicious. But dammit, don’t we deserve a bit of credit? Don’t we deserve our moment in the sun? Hell, yes, we do! And here comes Paul Anka to give it to us! Thanks, Paul! Man power!

Nah, this isn’t working. Yeah, we have feelings, but I don’t think we can ever possibly relate to what a woman goes through when she’s expecting (or delivering). And this song couldn’t possibly be any clearer in its message: you are nothing but an Anka-worshipping conduit for my child. Oh, and it had better be a boy, damn you.

Back in the ’70s, there were rumors that Anka, in response to pressure from groups like NOW, changed his lyrics from “(You’re) Having My Baby” to “(You’re) Having Our Baby.” Anka starts off denying it in this interview, but then changes his tune:

I never changed it at all. What I did was … there was some slack … I really didn’t get the fray of it, nor do I want to give out pamphlets with every record explaining what I write about, but … at some of my concerts, at the end of the song, I would end it with “You’re having our baby,” but that was the extent of it. I never changed anything, nor would I ever. I don’t believe in those kinds of restrictions in the creative process.

You hear that, ladies? Paul Anka doesn’t believe in those kinds of restrictions in the creative process! Now get back in the kitchen!

Before I sign off, I want to give some advice to the men reading this (which is fine, since I’m imagining most of the ladies have thrown their hands up in disgust and walked out). Specifically, this is for the men who think that they may, at some point, wind up in that delivery room, helping a lady get through the magic of childbirth.

I want you to have this song going through your head. Play nothing but this song for the few days before the birth date, if possible. Through your headphones — we don’t want anybody to know what you’re doing.

I want you to keep it to yourself for a while. Hum it aloud if you have to, but keep it down — there’s a lady in labor next to you, for cryin’ out loud.

I want you to wait for that moment. You know, the moment when she decides that no, natural childbirth is for chumps, and yes, she will have that epidural and she will have it right now, goddammit, and she’s still in the middle of pushing and screaming and she’s all sweaty and you’re scared out of your fucking mind. In that moment, I want you to pull it together, and be the best Lamaze coach you could ever be. I want you to get her attention, any way you can. Make sure that for just a brief second, she’s focused on nothing else but you. And as she looks into your eyes, with all the intensity of this moment, you look right back at her and you tell her.

“(You’re) havin’ my baby.”

And then you either run like hell, or send your the bill for your broken arm to Pressing Needs, loyal sponsor of Popdose.

If, for some crazy reason, your lady hasn’t strangled the shit out of you, feel free to continue the song. Save the “thru yuh” line for just the right moment. Don’t worry about holding her hand, giving her any encouragement, or even being there to see that child’s arrival into this world. After all, Paul Anka wouldn’t worry about it — why should you?

That’s going to do it for this edition of Adventures Through The Mines Of Mellow Gold! In case you were in fear of us ending this entry on a strong note, don’t be concerned. Let’s sign off by featuring Mr. Anka himself, crooning (and I mean crooning) this classic back in 2006 (you’re going to love the ending). And if that doesn’t do it for you, good news! YouTube has multiple videos with creepy pictures of pregnant women AND animals, all to the tune of “(You’re) Having My Baby.” See you next time!

I know, I know: where the hell have I been? Where the hell is your Mellow fix? I understand your pain, and I thank you for your continued patience as I try to see if there’s life beyond crappy music. But we have a MELLOW RED ALERT on our hands, people, and I need to bring it to your attention, like, yesterday.

Eagles – I Don’t Want To Hear Anymore (download)

That’s right! Mellow Gold, 2007 style, bitches! And grab this one quick, ’cause Irving Azoff is going to be banging on my door in about twenty seconds. This one comes from the brand-spankin’-new release, Long Road Out Of Firing Felder Eden. I don’t even have the album yet – we don’t believe in Wal-Mart in New York City – but at 6:45 this morning, my main man Jeff contacted me and insisted that I hear this track as soon as possible. And I knew he was onto something, because as I listened, my wife called out from the other room.

“Is this Mellow Gold?”

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Because it sucks.”

So quick! Download! And if anybody asks, you got this file from Jeff. You hear that, Irving? So don’t shut me down. Shut Jefitoblog down…oh.

So, unsurprisingly, this little ditty is sung by Timothy B. Schmit. What, were you expecting Joe Walsh? Schmit is, and always has been, The Boy Who Cried Mellow Gold. (Or, as Jeff has pointed out, “he’s the boy who cries everything.”)

Here’s a Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Wuss, back in the early ’70s.

And here he is today. From behind, he still looks the same – girly – but from the front, time has been a vicious vacuum cleaner, sucking out much of his face.

“Trick or treat!”

Still, his voice has remained virtually unchanged. He’s still singing those high Eagles harmonies, and on the off-chance that the other guys let him sing a song by himself, he still embodies all the sensitive, feminine qualities we’ve grown to love. In fact, we owe Timothy a debt of gratitude, people. Think of his time in Poco. Think of his gentle vocals on “I Can’t Tell You Why.” Think of his attempt to resurrect the MG genre with “Love Will Keep Us Alive” from Hell Freezes Over. Is Timothy B. Schmit the only one who’s keeping the true spirit of Mellow Gold alive and well in 2007? Has Stephen Bishop contacted him about a duet? Do we have any solid assurance that he’s not going to cut his girly mane, and if not, can we get said assurance?

So have you listened to this song yet? Before we start,you should know who wrote this gem: Paul Carrack. And if you don’t know how far back Paul’s mellow roots extend, remember Mellow Gold #5, where we featured Carrack’s vocal on “How Long” by Ace (sadly, not the same “How Long” included on Long Road Out Of Eden). Carrack also had a hand in writing “Love Will Keep Us Alive” (with the late Jim Capaldi, no less). I had no idea Paul could be so wimpy. Oh well, the guy’s rich beyond his wildest dreams by this point, and may very well have another hit with this one.

Let’s start with the lame, audible count-off. Is that Don Henley? It doesn’t sound like Don Henley to me. I feel like Don Henley would have demanded his vocal be higher in the mix. Anyway, the drums are followed by some tasteful guitar licks and…synthesized strings? Really? Guys! You’re THE EAGLES! You can afford real strings! Don Henley has a string quartet permanently installed in his bedroom that wakes him in lieu of an alarm clock! (This makes those late-night necking sessions with Stevie Nicks really uncomfortable.) Why they bothered with this synth sound, I’ll never know.

The song continues with gentle acoustic guitar, peppered by a few “One Of These Nights”-esque electric guitar stabs, and of course, lots of organ. And when Timothy B. Schmit opens his decrepit mouth to sing, it’s mellow heaven.

It’s not the first time
That I’ve had the sense that something’s wrong

My god. It’s like 1980 all over again.

But I’m old enough to know

You can say that again!

That things don’t always work out like they should
I know you’re tryin’ hard
To break it gently to me, now
But there’s no easy way
To tell it like it is, so baby…

Are you ready for the chorus?

I don’t want to hear any more
You don’t need to tell me it’s over
I’ve been here before

It gets better. I’m not going to present all the lyrics, but here are some of my favorites.

Before you take my hand
And tell me softly in a whisper
There’s no need to explain
I’ve read the book; I know how this all ends

“Before you take my hand and tell me softly in a whisper.” I’m not sure if a Mellower lyric has ever been written. I mean, Carrack could have just said “tell me softly.” But adding “in a whisper” just increases the wuss levels to new heights. Hold on. I’m getting up from my computer and giving Paul Carrack a standing ovation. It’s well deserved.

I haven’t even reached the best part yet.

I won’t ask you to stay
I won’t stand in your way
Look me right in the eyes
Let me walk away with my head high

Too late!

If there’s some other guy
I don’t need to know why

I feel like doing a little mellow dance of joy. Awesome. “I know you’re dumping me like the wrinkled old lukewarm potato I am, but I’m not going to fight or attempt to win you back. I won’t get pissed off and slash your tires, either. I’ll just…you know…eat my oatmeal and let you go.” And what’s up with the logic here? “Let me walk away with my head high?” How so? That doesn’t even make sense! And you just know the other guy she’s banging is Joe Walsh.

This brings wussitude to a brand-new level. When the most the man will do is stick his fingers in his ears and go “LA LA LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU,” you know you’ve got the mellowest of the mellow.

So remember when I expressed my skepticism about Henley counting off the song? I’ll go a step further: I’m willing to bet there are minimal amounts of actual Eagles on this song. For starters, have you noticed that, just like “Love Will Keep Us Alive,” the backing vocals are completely nondescript? At least two of those voices belong to Schmit. Hmmm. I wonder how this went down? Looks like it’s time for another segment of…

Mellow Gold Theatre
- Eagles Edition –

Carrack: This may very well be the wimpiest song I’ve ever written. I can’t even sing these lyrics with a straight face. But I know someone who can, and who could bring me a lot of money doing so…(strokes hairless cat)

Schmit arrives at the door.

Carrack: AAAAGHH!! Take my money. Take anything you want. Just don’t eat my soul!!!

Schmit: Paul, it’s me. Timothy B. Schmit.

Carrack: Oh. (exhales) I thought you were the Cryptkeeper.

Schmit: Paul, do you have any new songs for me? I need to get one on the new album. Nobody respects me. They don’t even listen to me. And if I get one more noogie from Glen, I’m quitting.

Carrack: Fear not, my sensitive friend! I’ve got a song that’s right up your alley.

Carrack plays him the song.

Schmit: (sniff) It’s beautiful. The guys will love it. Can I have a Kleenex?

Carrack: Hang on, I’m buying a second boat.

The next day, back at the Eagles ranch:

Schmit: Guys! Guess what!

Frey: C’mere, you! (Jumps off of couch, starts chasing Schmit around the room)

Schmit: No! Stop! (starts crying)

Henley (gazing at visage in mirror): See what you did, Glen? He’s weeping again.

Schmit: Guys! (sniff) I just wanted to play you this song. I think it’d sound great on the new album.

Schmit plays the band “I Don’t Want To Hear Anymore.”

Henley: I agree. I don’t want to hear anymore. (Goes back to mirror)

Frey: C’mere, you! (jumps up again, chases Schmit into a corner)

Schmit: Wait, guys! Listen! Remember “Love Will Keep Us Alive?” It was our first #1 AC single, and the best-seller from Hell Freezes Over.

Henley: He’s got a point, Glen. Hello, Lite-FM money! We’ll do it!

Frey, mouth full of Doritos: C’mere, you! (Punches Schmit in gut)

-FIN-

Yeah, this is definitely how it went down. The Eagles then outsourced the song to session musicians in India, and are currently sitting back, just waiting to reap the benefits. I guarantee you that if this song is released as a single, it’s going to at least the Top 5 of the Adult Contemporary charts. It’s everything we could possibly want in a modern Mellow Gold song. I feel like less of a man already. It’s a classic.

See you next time for another Adventure Through The Mines Of Mellow Gold!

Dan Fogelberg & Tim Weisberg – The Power Of Gold (download)

(A word before I start: I am aware that Dan Fogelberg has cancer. Last year during Mellowmas, a Fogelberg fan (Fogelfan?) gave Jeff and I some shit for ripping on “Same Old Lang Syne” simply on the basis that he was sick. It goes without saying that I wouldn’t wish any kind of cancer on anyone, and I wish him all the best as he continues his path towards recovery. That being said, I’m sure Dan – or any artist – would not expect their music to be treated (or reviewed) any differently because of this. And therefore, I see no problem with tackling “The Power Of Gold.” If you do, by all means, stop here.)

I first came across “The Power Of Gold” earlier this year when Jeff Ash – he of the fantastic AM, Then FM blog – recommended another song from the same album, Twin Sons Of Different Mothers. (I’ll get to that song too at some point, Jeff, but fer cryin’ out loud, it’s seven minutes long.) Twin Sons Of Different Mothers was the first of two collaborative projects between Fogelberg and falutist flutetits flutist flute player Tim Weisberg. I’m guessing the two ‘bergs met at synagogue.

“Daaaaaan! I told you I was going to wear this hairstyle to the photo shoot!”

Yes, the two of them look slightly similar, and both look like they’re mere moments away from going into hibernation for the winter. The ‘bergs must have known this, as their ‘95 reunion featured a disturbing lack of facial hair and a defensive title:

But enough about the smooth-faced ‘bergs: today we’re talking about their hairy 1978 album, the one which perfectly represents the way two white guys would translate the term “brothers from another mother.” A bit of history, first: it’s interesting to note that at this point in his career, Dan Fogelberg was a massive success, based not on any particular song but on an entire album. (Imagine that.) His second release, 1975’s Souvenirs, featured one (and at this point, his only) hit: “Part Of The Plan,” which included backing vocals by Joe Walsh and Graham Nash, and peaked at #31. However, Souvenirs managed to reach #17, and went on to sell over forty million copies. (Wait a minute – sorry, that was Thriller. Two million. My bad.) With that many copies sold, I suppose you could say that Dan Fogelberg truly, truly knew (wait for it)…the power of gold.

(This is what happens when I take more than two weeks off.)

But it’s true: anything Fogelberg touched turned to gold…fool’s gold, you might say. (What is wrong with me?) Fool’s Gold was Fogelberg’s backing band, and even they were able to release an album. (By the way, vocalist for Fool’s Gold? Tom Kelly, CHART ATTACK’s favorite songwriter!) The point I’m feebly attempting to make is that the man was on a roll. I mean, even when Fogelberg decided to ignore his current success and head towards a potentially career-damaging move, he couldn’t fail.

See, Fogelberg knew Weisberg from his previous album, Nether Lands – the two had collaborated on the song “Give Me Some Time” – and Fogelberg suggested the two of them record an album entirely composed of instrumentals. They almost succeeded: seven out of ten songs were instrumentals, and “The Power Of Gold” was actually a last-minute addition after they realized that their grand finale song, recorded with a full orchestra, featured an out-of-tune piano. Fogelberg quickly whipped up the song, released the album, and fled the country, uninterested in hearing the critics rip apart his instrumental jaunt. But as I said: much like Parker Lewis but inexplicably wussier, Dan Fogelberg couldn’t lose. Twin Sons Of Different Mothers reached #8 and sold a million copies, with “The Power Of Gold” peaking at an impressive #24.

I was but a year old when this song hit the charts, but I imagine the reaction was “wow, Dan’s really rockin’ this one!” Which is not to say that he was, in fact, “rockin’ this one.” In Fogelberg standards, however, this was some pretty heavy shit. I’m not saying that all his other stuff was chock full o’ wuss, but…well, yes, I guess I am. In fact, I don’t know if you know this, but when someone (Jeff) is being a pussy, I now call them (him) a Fogelberg. Still, how do you think this conversation went down?

Dan: Tim, I think this song could be our opportunity to really rock out.
Tim: Dan, I play the flute.

That being said, “The Power Of Gold” features less flute than any other song on the album. There may be some light flute (y’know, as opposed to heavy flute) over the main riff of the song, but it’s obscured by those bad-ass (not true) electric guitars. I imagine that Fogelberg and Fool’s Gold began recording the song, and invited Weisberg to jump in whenever he felt comfortable. Weisberg, however, just sat there, looking slightly lost, and eventually began reading the classifieds until Fogelberg poked him in the back with the end of his acoustic guitar. (”Hey, I’m paying you by the hour here.”)

So what else does “The Power Of Gold” have going for it? Well, don’t look to the lyrics, that’s for sure. In fact, I bet you can’t even make out most of the lyrics; they’re buried in the mix. My guess is that Fogelberg had the line “are you under the power of gold?” and simply worked backwards from there, finding words that rhymed with “gold” (using “sold” and “cold” but, sadly, not “mold,” “resoled” or “cuckold”). I seriously have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. Let me look up some of the lyrics.

The story is told of the power of gold and its lure on the unsuspecting
It glitters and shines, it badgers and blinds
And constantly needs protecting
Balance the cost of the soul you lost with the dreams you lightly sold
Are you under…the power of gold

Oh, wait! Guys! I get it! He’s talking about THE MUSIC INDUSTRY! Either that or he’s after me lucky charms!

Okay, so maybe there’s some real meaning in the lyrics. How about the music? Well, it’s definitely on the heavier end of mellow, but the drums are still weak, and there’s way too much piano – especially that run down the keys occurring right before “the power of gold” on every chorus. Everyone knows that runs down the piano keys are supposed to occur spontaneously in a moment of passion. For shame, Dan!

However, the thing you’re most likely to remember about “The Power Of Gold” will be the excellent (and high) harmony line over Dan’s lead vocal. That’s good ol’ Don Henley, providing some of his trademark, “Witchy Woman”-esque falsetto. (Fogelberg was managed by Irving Azoff, who also managed The Eagles.)

Despite the odds, “The Power Of Gold” does manage to toe the line between rock and wuss-music, and therefore is a worthy addition to your shameful Mellow Gold collection. And as you all know, some of Dan’s mellowest hits were still to come. (Note: any of you hijack this post and turn it into a rip on “Longer,” I will personally hunt you down and punch you in the mouth. I love that song – especially the flugelhorn – to the point of tearful irrationality.) And after listening to “The Power Of Gold” and a few other Fogelberg tunes over the past few days, I think I’m actually becoming a fan. I suppose I’m under the power of…okay, I’ll stop.

See you next time for another Adventure Through The Mines Of Mellow Gold!

My mouth dropped when I heard this deep, lower-than-Barry-White voice essentially growl the lyrics.  By the end of the song, I wanted to commit suicide.  Thanks, Shawn, for the link!