We move into year two of Bottom Feeders: The Ass End of the ‘80s, with one of the best weeks we’ve had in a while, in my opinion. How about we continue with the letter L, looking at songs that peaked at #41 or lower on the Billboard Hot 100 chart during the ’80s.
Johnny Lee
“Bet Your Heart on Me” — 1981, #54 (download)
Naturally, after I say this is one of the best weeks we’ve had in a while, we start off with this lump of coal. I’m not quite sure I understand how most country music crossed over into the Hot 100 in the early ’80s. Lee had a pretty massive hit in 1980 with “Lookin’ for Love” (#5), so maybe I can see “Bet Your Heart” charting if it was the follow-up, but it wasn’t. There were four other singles between those two that only hit the country chart. So how does this generic country song become the one that mainstream radio pushes? I guess it’s just about knowing the right people or having the right amount of cash.
There are weeks where I dig this light rock sound from the early ’80s and weeks I don’t. This must be one of those where I do, because I’m groovin’ along to this simple tune, the only solo hit Larry Lee had after leaving the Ozark Mountain Daredevils early in ‘82.
Paul Lekakis
“Boom Boom (Let’s Go Back to My Room)” — 1987, #43 (download)
I’m so happy this missed the top 40 by three spots. “Boom Boom (Let’s Go Back to My Room)” is the type of song Bottom Feeders is all about, so I would have been crushed to not have it here. This is one of two songs in the letter L that I love way more than I should. And I’m going to bet that all of you loved this at one point or another too (this is the place to admit it). If you were between the ages of 15 and 22 in 1987 when this came out you absolutely loved this, because it was probably played at every high-school dance or fraternity party for a year. I can’t imagine how many horny boys and horny girls were awkwardly dry humping each other trying to get some “Boom Boom.” (I was going to add a Paul Lekakis picture to this, but my google search kept turning up pictures of him naked by himself or naked with other men, so I decided to move on).
Back in 1992, my girlfriend received a 16th-birthday mix tape from a friend of ours named Tai. There were no artists or song titles listed on the cassette label, making the tape something of a mystery gift. My girlfriend and I listened to it while driving (because when you’re 16 you just drive, regardless of whether or not there’s a Point B), and later I borrowed the tape so I could dub the songs I liked onto a cassette of my own.
Since I didn’t know the titles of the songs I was adding to my collection, I made up my own: the Stone Roses’ “Elephant Stone” was listed as “In My Dreams”; the Hummingbirds’ “Everything You Said” became “Your Picture”; the Blue Hearts’ “Train-Train” turned into a single “Train”; Blake Babies’ “Out There” was rechristened “I Know It’s Stupid”; and Morrissey’s “Mute Witness” morphed into “That She Saw” (yes, I know I was reaching with that one). One track I did manage to name correctly was “Valerie Loves Me,” by Chicago power-pop trio Material Issue. I could’ve sworn they were British all those years ago, probably because of lead singer Jim Ellison’s English-accent affectations, as all power pop seems to lead back to the words and music of Lennon and McCartney, even though you couldn’t hear their accents when they sang.
This week’s bootleg is a radio broadcast of Material Issue playing at the Empire Concert Club in Cleveland, Ohio, on May 9, 1991. Back then they were promoting their debut album, International Pop Overthrow, whose title has since been borrowed for an annual traveling power-pop festival: the 2009 edition arrived in Chicago on April 16 and leaves town on Sunday, then starts back up in Milwaukee next Thursday. The bootleg is brought to you by Addicted to Vinyl’s Matt Wardlaw, a friend of Popdose and a heck of a nice guy. Here’s what he has to say about the venue and the concerts it hosted that aired on local radio:
“The Empire Concert Club was a great though short-lived club here in Cleveland that was only open for a couple of years at the beginning of the ’90s. In that time they did close to 100 live concert broadcasts with legendary rock station WMMS. Some of the more memorable broadcasts included shows from Cracker, King’s X, Sarah McLachlan (her first show in Cleveland), Rik Emmett, Matthew Sweet, and this show from Material Issue. Personally, I enjoyed the broadcasts because they featured a lot of artists like Material Issue who had new and fresh sounds for music fans to latch onto at a time when you could still hear that kind of thing on the radio; these live broadcasts captured many of the artists as they were about to explode on a national level. Great club, great bands — so how did it end? The Empire got nailed for filling the venue beyond capacity during a Buddy Guy concert — not their first offense — and they were penalized by having their capacity reduced by half, which led to an eventual shuttering of the club. Empire co-owner Tony Ciulla resurfaced a short time later as part of the management team for Trent Reznor’s Nothing Records.”
As a consumer, viewer, and overall commentator of pop culture, I find myself looking for those dreaded paradigm shifts, those touchstone moments where I can say, “This is the moment everything changed.” After all, that gives me something to write about. In September, one of those possibly pivotal moments could occur: The entire Beatles catalog gets a remastering and deluxe re-release.
Where Elvis Presley could be considered the start of youth culture as an economic force, the Beatles are arguably the lynchpin of youth culture gaining political and cultural power. Their voice became louder than the establishment and their actions could create real change, versus the symbolism of previous movements. They were the frontline for the Flower Children as well as pop music in general, and as such, positioned themselves as the Baby Boomer generation’s social icons.
No surprise, then, that in 2009, those Boomers probably already own all the Beatles albums on CD. While some are genuinely excited that these remasters are coming, it’s easy to make a case that the same Boomers are post-double-dip, having already “upgraded” from vinyl and (ha-ha!) 8-track, and to steal a quote from Pete Townshend, they “won’t get fooled again.”
That leaves the new generation, some of which are just as ardent admirers of the Fab Four, that have learned of new ways to get their music, shiny aluminum discs be damned. For some, their copy of The Beatles Rock Band video game will be enough, while for others, those remasters need to hit iTunes or else risk complete irrelevance. For still others, the interwebs and bittorrents will give them whatever they want for the unreasonable price of $0.00. So, if a fraction of the first wave of fans bothers to buy into the upgrade, and the most recent converts have forsaken the CD format and the concept of paying for music, what does that mean?
Likely, it means that for the first time in almost a half century, the Beatles will not be the reliable cash cows they’ve always been, and the incredible force that had been Baby Boomer buying power will need to cede control to Generation Net. It’s a big statement to make, even in the face of the success of The Love Album, the Cirque Du Soleil soundtrack that mashed up the best of Bug Music, sold way above expectation and helped set the stage for this massive refurbishment. Remember that album was, in part, based upon the mash-up novelty and was, in a way, a new entity. These remasters aren’t. To hazard a guess, I’d expect the diehards are going to cherrypick what they choose to replace, further reducing the impact of the Beatles Armada.
But again, none of us win the horse races 100% of the time. I could be dead wrong and we could be ushering in yet one more massive win for Team John, Paul, George and Ringo. It’s a long, long, long time to September, but one thing’s for sure. Either way, we’ll have a lot to write about.
For much of his solo career, it was Paul McCartney’s peculiar fate to seem perpetually in need of a creative comeback. Chafing against the impossibly high standard he set for himself with his Beatles work, Macca required three years of wilderness-wandering and band-building to make his first Important Album, 1973’s Band on the Run. After that, he forced fans to suffer through nine years of steadily diminishing qualitative returns before finally (if only briefly) winning a Tug of Warwith mediocrity in 1982.
And so on, and so on …
By 1989 McCartney faced a new and unexpected challenge: restoring his commercial viability. Even such moribund albums as Wild Life and London Townhad Top-Tenned during the 1970s despite critical drubbings, but the disastrous film and soundtrack Give My Regards to Broad Streetin 1984 seemed to mark a tipping point in the public’s willingness to consume products of patchy quality just because they had the Macca seal of approval. In 1986 McCartney released the Hugh Padgham-produced, thoroughly modern (and not-half-bad) album Press to Play, only to watch it stall at Number 30 on the Billboard album chart and become his first long-player to fall short of gold-record status.
To his credit, McCartney responded with a retrenchment, getting back to his roots and recording the Choba B CCCPalbum of rock ‘n’ roll standards for release only in the Soviet Union in 1988. Even as that record (initially released only on vinyl) became a sought-after item in the West as an import, word began circulating that McCartney was in the studio with Elvis Costello, and the prospect of their collaboration goosed interest in both men’s forthcoming albums.
The first fruits of their combined labor appeared on Costello’s Spikealbum in early 1989, which featured the most delightful Top-20 single ever written about Alzheimer’s, “Veronica,” as well as the rockabilly throwaway “Pads, Paws and Claws.” Meanwhile, McCartney announced that he would embark in the fall on the biggest tour of his solo career – and his first since his 1979 arrest at the Tokyo airport, on marijuana-possession charges, led to the final breakup of Wings. (more…)
Howdy, everybody! Happy Friday and welcome back to another edition of CHART ATTACK! This week’s mix is relatively eclectic, yet — as was often the case in the early ’80s — completely inoffensive. And you’ll find references to John Lennon in four of this week’s singles. On with the chart — let’s look at February 14, 1981!
I love Steely Dan. And I love “Hey Nineteen.” And although I’ve never had any misconception about this song’s subject, it was only when listening to this song the other day that I realized: Donald Fagen both looks and sounds like a skeevy, dirty old man, and “Hey Nineteen” is, in fact, not helping his image. And despite the fact that Fagen was only 32 when this song was recorded, it’s not a stretch to hear it and imagine him being, say, 50. SKETCHY. Here’s a picture of Donald Fagen with Japanese musician Juri Panda Jones. Look at this while listening to “Hey Nineteen,” willya?
Right?
Something else weird happened to me while I was listening to “Hey Nineteen” recently. Whenever I sing along with it, I always avoid the lead line (except for “that’s ‘retha Franklin”). I just sing the backing vocals. And, when I sing them, I sing them like…you guessed it.
Oh, picture of 3 Time Grammy Award Winner Michael McDonald, how I’ve missed you.
Anyway, so yeah, I always sing those backing vocals like McD. But when listening to the song the other day, I realized: I don’t hear McD as a prominent voice. I mean, I think I hear him in there, and I know he sang backing vocals on Gaucho, but you know that I have a tendency to hear a little bit of McD in everything, so I could just be crazy.
Steely Dan only had a few Top 10 hits ( “Do It Again” and “Rikki Don’t Lose That Number,” and what the hell, we’ll give “Peg” credit for reaching #11, only because of McD), but this was their last one, peaking here at #10 for only two weeks.
So you say that your finances are under more pressure than Rod Blagojevich and you still have gifts to buy for the holidays? Join the club. When you think about it, books make a really sensible gift. In addition to providing hours of pleasure for your loved ones, they cost very little in the scheme of things, and with online discounters like Amazon offering free shipping for orders over $25, well, it’s somewhat of a no-brainer. I completed most of my list last week by spending less than ten minutes online, and the order arrived at my door two days later. No malls. No lines. No parking nightmares.
This year there are a lot of good book options for the music lovers in your life. None of the books that appear here cost more than $30 on Amazon, and most are considerably less expensive. There are coffee table books, and interesting biographies. Know someone who is not that interested in music? I’ve provided some good choices for them as well, with a couple of excellent novels, a wise and witty look at the first colonists of this country, and a biography of one of the pre-eminent journalists of the last half-century.
The books are listed in order of genre, not preference. Without further ado, here are my gift choices.
It’s good to have friends, and Q has a lot of them. Before his own recollections even begin, there are introductory valedictories from the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Bono, Clint Eastwood, and Maya Angelou. This beautifully put together volume provides extraordinary access to a man who has been at the forefront of the music business for decades, working with everyone from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson. There are private notebooks, correspondence, and photographs, along with reproductions of report cards, track sheets, and accounting ledgers. (more…)
It’s not necessarily a bad thing to be at times, mind you, but a good smart-ass pulls it off with a modicum of grace and might give you a chuckle for it. In the music world, there are relatively few of the latter. Instead of a wink and a nod, they just about knock you unconscious and then ask if “you saw that.” You can tell one from the other by their choices in the realm of cover songs.
A word of note to anyone who is not a music nerd accidentally finding themselves at this site: a cover song is when an artist records another artist’s song, hence covering it. The term ‘remake’ fits as well. The term ’smart-ass’, at least relative to this article, refers to those who decide to go all hipster and record something that bears no relevance, charm or wit toward their own sensibility. I’m thinking of Madonna’s cover of “American Pie” or that godawful A Perfect Circle CD where the songs weren’t just reworked, they were worked over, until all that was left was roadkill disguised as tribute. Then there’s the Bluegrass Tribute to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. More notoriously, I’m thinking of the late-’50s pop songs from black artists covered by teen idol white artists because, you know, if it comes from a white guy in a sweater, the subtext can’t be about sex. Right? Pat Boone? Tutti Frutti?
On March 8, 2008, the Rutland Times reported the breathtaking news that the world and elsewhere would soon be privy to something quite remarkable: “Rutlemania! The Tribute Concert.” Even more impressive to fans of the Prefab Four, however, was the announcement that the famed Mods & Rockers Film Festival would be handling the official 30th-anniversary celebration of the Rutles on March 17, with Dirk (Eric Idle), Nasty (Neil Innes), Ricky Fataar (Stig), and John Halsey (Barry) all in attendance for a screening of the original 1978 version of The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, the 1975 British TV skit that inspired the film, Rutles-related footage from Saturday Night Live, and highlights from the 2003 film The Rutles 2: Can’t Buy Me Lunch.
Damn. I really wish I could’ve been there for that.
Fortunately, David Haber from WhatGoesOn.com was there, and provided two separate reports over at his website, one a general summary and the other focusing specifically on the Rutles’ first full reunion performance ever. Better you should go there yourself rather than allow me to cannibalize all the good stuff here, but let’s just say that any event that can draw an audience that includes Andy Summers, Jeff Lynne, Aimee Mann, Michael Penn, Stephen Bishop, Howard Kaylan of the Turtles, producer extraordinaire Peter Asher (who was also half of Peter & Gordon), Emo Phillips, Marcia Strassman, and Dan Castellaneta was clearly the place to be that night.
If you’re a Beatles fan who’s never heard the genius parody that is the Rutles, you’re really missing out. It’s a fair assessment to suggest that 90 percent of all power pop is unabashedly derivative of the works of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, and plenty of comedians have taken the world’s most famous Liverpudlians and had a laugh at their expense, but few have done such an exquisite job of it and gotten the blessing of the members themselves to boot — well, three-quarters of them, anyway. George actually made a cameo in the original film; as for the others (if we can trust Wikipedia’s word on the matter), Ringo liked the happier scenes but felt the ones that mimicked the sadder times in the band’s career hit too close to home, while John loved the film so much that he refused to return the videotape and soundtrack he was given for his approval, warning Neil Innes that “Get Up and Go” was too close to “Get Back” and to be careful so as not to be sued by Paul. This might explain why Macca always said “no comment” when asked of the film at the time of its release, as well as Innes’s remark that Sir Paul “had a dinner at some awards thing at the same table as Eric one night, and Eric said it was a little frosty.”
Well, fair enough, you can kind of understand that. It’s fine and well for us to have a laugh at it all, but then, we didn’t live it. George was around for much of the planning of the original film, but according to producer Gary Weis, even the Quiet One got a bit testy at one point, snapping, “We were the Beatles, you know!” Moments later, however, he shook his head and said, “Aw, never mind.”
Welcome to a series I began at He’s A Whore and am proud-as-punch to continue here at Popdose. While not able to mention everything that happened, I’ve touched upon some of the key events that made 1996 what it was, warts ‘n’ all.
Kiss announce plans to reunite with original members Ace Frehley and Peter Criss as part of a “farewell” world tour.
In March, Phil Collins announces his decision to leave Genesis.
That same month, the Sex Pistols announce plans for a reunion tour marking the 20th anniversary of the band’s formation. (more…)
Back in 1992, my girlfriend received a 16th-birthday mix tape from a friend of ours named Tai. There were no artists or song titles listed on the cassette label, making the tape something of a mystery gift. My girlfriend and I listened to it while driving (because when you’re 16 you just drive, regardless of whether or not there’s a Point B), and later I borrowed the tape so I could dub the songs I liked onto a cassette of my own.
As a consumer, viewer, and overall commentator of pop culture, I find myself looking for those dreaded paradigm shifts, those touchstone moments where I can say, “This is the moment everything changed.” After all, that gives me something to write about. In September, one of those possibly pivotal moments could occur: The entire Beatles catalog gets a remastering and deluxe re-release.
By 1989 McCartney faced a new and unexpected challenge: restoring his commercial viability. Even such moribund albums as Wild Life and 
A word of note to anyone who is not a music nerd accidentally finding themselves at this site: a cover song is when an artist records another artist’s song, hence covering it. The term ‘remake’ fits as well. The term ’smart-ass’, at least relative to this article, refers to those who decide to go all hipster and record something that bears no relevance, charm or wit toward their own sensibility. I’m thinking of Madonna’s cover of “American Pie” or that godawful A Perfect Circle CD where the songs weren’t just reworked, they were worked over, until all that was left was roadkill disguised as tribute. Then there’s the Bluegrass Tribute to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. More notoriously, I’m thinking of the late-’50s pop songs from black artists covered by teen idol white artists because, you know, if it comes from a white guy in a sweater, the subtext can’t be about sex. Right? Pat Boone? Tutti Frutti?
On March 8, 2008, the Rutland Times reported the breathtaking news that the world and elsewhere would soon be privy to something quite remarkable: “
