Posts Tagged ‘Neil Diamond’

Versionality: “Stagger Lee”

About a month ago, while I was working on my Soundtrack Saturday post about Shag: The Movie, I tweeted that I never got sick of hearing Lloyd Price’s version of the blues folk song “Stagger Lee,” which is what Annabeth Gish and Scott Coffey’s characters dance to during the shag dancing contest at the end of the movie. In fact, I think I listened to it about 20 times just in the few hours it took me to write that post. The first time I’d ever heard any version of “Stagger Lee” was while watching Shag, and every time I hear Price sing it, I think of that scene and just want to put on my shaggin’ shoes and go to town. (Okay, so I don’t really know how to shag, but whatever.)

Seeing my tweet about my love for Mr. Price’s “Stagger Lee,” the lovely Jeff Giles asked if I’d ever heard the version by Chris Whitley & Jeff Lang. I replied that I hadn’t, and within the hour an MP3 was waiting in my in-box. After listening to it and telling Jeff how much I liked it, a discussion about some of the other versions of the song began, ultimately leading to the idea of this feature, which I hope continues with the thoughts of members of the talented Popdose staff on other oft-covered songs.

Now, much has been written about the Stagger Lee story and even about the many versions of the song; I’m certainly not going to try and rehash everything for you here. Instead I’d encourage you to read this and this, and if that’s not enough Stagger Lee history for you, there’s always Wikipedia. Rather, what I wanted to talk about here is what I love about the song and its many renditions.

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Mix Six: “Earworm Attack!”

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Let me get this out in the open: I work in a dangerous place.  No, I don’t work with nuclear materials, nor do I work at a restaurant where I train as a competitive eater on the side.  Rather, I work in a place where earworm attacks happen, and, as of late, are happening more frequently.  You see, I work at an Adult Contemporary radio station where some of the songs have an effect that I can’t seem to shake.  Yes, some songs get trapped in my head and the lyrics, melody, and various hooks weave themselves into my cerebral cortex like those creatures did to Chekov and Captain Terrell in Star Trek II. Or as Khan so eloquently said about the worms of Ceti Alpha Five (but could easily been talking about the songs featured here):  “You see, their young enter through the ears and wrap themselves around the cerebral cortex. This has the effect of rendering the victim extremely susceptible to suggestion.  Later, as they grow, follows madness — and death.”

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Oh, little earworm, how you have tortured me!  And now, dear readers, I pass along the love. (more…)

Awful/Awesome: “Neil Diamond … Hello Again”

helloneilDo you have about 45 minutes to spare? If so, you won’t want to spend it watching Neil Diamond … Hello Again, a television special that aired on CBS in 1986. (As you probably know already, we can apply the following formula here: CBS + 1986 = a world completely devoid of irony.) Our friends at Seventies Saturdays have just uploaded all five parts of this truly, truly awful/awesome special.

Part 1 “highlights”: Neil’s horrible song/music video “Headed for the Future,” which will forevermore be my answer whenever I rhetorically ask myself, “Why did Neil Diamond get a bum rap in the ’80s?” It’s all awful: the lyrics, the choreography, the Diamond. And how is it that I swear I hear Auto-Tune at 3:34? (more…)

Into the Ear of Madness, Week 42 (oops, 32) — Feel the Neil

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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.

I’m sorry, but my mind is a total blank this week, and I don’t know what else to do than to continue the bashing from last time. Please forgive me, I’m no doubt a talentless and bitter dick for wasting my time writing crap about this guy, this genius, who has so much more talent in his left thumb than I have in my entire body that he’s laughing himself all the way to the bank on a yellow-brick road covered by red carpets (red-brick road?), champagne and cheap blondes while I’m sitting here in my ramshackled camp trailer on the edge of the world, watching Swedish Dansband on television to try to laugh off the pain and drinking methanol to stay warm. Did I mention that Foster was in an artistic and commercial slum last weep? Oops, sorry — Freudian slip time — that’s “slump last week.”

Before we delve into the specifics of the three songs I lined out in last week’s entry, we will take a look at David Foster’s career in the late ’80s, and today we’re moving on to 1988. At this point he wasn’t as productive as he used to be, and he certainly didn’t dominate the charts like he used to. He was going through a divorce at the time and, as a freak experiment, he decided to take Sundays off for the first time since his pre-teens, apparently to catastrophic effect. So, a lot of bad things were happening to our hero. Case in point:

“Carmelita’s Eyes” by Neil Diamond, from The Best Years of Our Lives (1988). Produced by David Foster. Written by Neil Diamond and David Foster. (more…)

CHART ATTACK!: 11/7/70

Why do I love today’s CHART ATTACK! author? Well, there are many reasons. First and foremost, of course, is his fantastic, thoughtful writing at The Hits Just Keep On Comin’. The second reason is because he has been willing to grace Popdose with his monthly column, “One Day in Your Life.” Today, however, I love him because who else could be counted on to write a phrase that begins with “Lo, its powerful bubblegummy mojo”? Read on and love him, too! — JH

In the fall of 1970, I was the first kid on my school bus every morning, and thus I traveled through rural Wisconsin on gravel roads and paths trodden by cows to get to school. Being the first kid on, I had my pick of seats. The back of the bus was the most desirable spot, but what you must know about the social dynamics of the school bus is that little kids don’t get to sit in the back. One particular morning, in an attempt to keep from getting my ass kicked, I chose a seat near the front, underneath the radio speaker. And on that morning, the bus driver tuned in WLS, the Top 40 giant from Chicago, and nothing in my life was ever the same after that.

There were some fine, fine songs on the radio that day, and some goofy stuff too, because it was the 1970s, and that was the law. The nation’s Top Ten looked like this on November 7, 1970:

10. Lola — The Kinks Amazon iTunes
9. Candida — Dawn Amazon iTunes
8. Cracklin’ Rosie — Neil Diamond Amazon iTunes
7. I Think I Love You — The Partridge Family Amazon iTunes
6. All Right Now — Free Amazon iTunes
5. Indiana Wants Me — R. Dean Taylor Amazon iTunes
4. Green-Eyed Lady — Sugarloaf Amazon iTunes
3. Fire and Rain — James Taylor Amazon iTunes
2. We’ve Only Just Begun — Carpenters Amazon iTunes
1. I’ll Be There — The Jackson Five Amazon iTunes

10. Lola — The Kinks

If, in the version you know, Ray Davies sings about champagne that tastes like cherry cola, you have the version he recorded after the BBC refused to air the original line about champagne that tastes like Coca-Cola because it would have constituted a commercial mention. (The re-cutting apparently required Davies to make a one-day round-trip from New York to London.) As a lad of 10, I could not have grasped the transvestite subtext, but I take comfort in the fact that there are people who are a lot older who still don’t get it. If that’s you, please click here for an explanation in flowchart form.

9. Candida — Dawn (download)

“Candida” was written by late-period Brill Building songwriters Irwin Levine and Toni Wine. (She’s best known, probably, for providing female vocals for the Archies.) Producers Hank Medress and Dave Appell had cut a version they didn’t like by a group they didn’t like, so they asked Orlando, a friend in the record biz, to recut it. He laid down the lead vocal; Wine and Jay Siegel later provided the backing vocals. Legend has it that Orlando didn’t think about the record again until it was Number 3 on WABC. Telma Hopkins and Joyce Vincent-Wilson were drafted to become Dawn for the followup single, “Knock Three Times”; they didn’t even meet Orlando until after it had gone to Number One.

8. Cracklin’ Rosie — Neil Diamond

More ungraspable subtext for the 10-year-olds. Despite the song’s borderline racy puns about wine and prostitutes, Diamond was already beginning to shed his ’60s kid-rocker image for that of an adult-contemporary balladeer, at least until you turned this record over. The flipside, “Lordy” is as rough as anything he ever made, featuring throat-shredding screams and lines like “cut your heart out for the prize/while the bitch sings hallelujah.” Here’s how it sounded on his Live at the Troubadour album in 1976:

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Bottom Feeders: The Ass End of the ’80s, Part 25

The other day someone asked me what the “most valuable” record in my collection is. It’s a question I’ve always had a hard time answering, because I have no idea if anything in my collection is worth money. I mean, I know which of my albums and 45s are rare, and certainly I know some pieces are worth some kind of money, but for me any sort of “value” comes from just having that particular hole filled in my collection. I’m not the first collector to say this and I certainly won’t be the last, but there is no part of my collection that I’ve been working on in order to turn a profit. Granted, if I ever get that elusive Shamus M’Cool 45 my collection will jump tremendously in value, but for now it contains just what I think is cool.  And in case you’re wondering how I define “cool” …

I own 19 different versions of “Talkin’ Baseball” by Terry Cashman, and Baseball America values them at up to $50 apiece. Of course, that’s Baseball America talking. I own “Dance Baby,” the 1983 single from Alfonso Ribeiro, aka Carlton on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I own Alyssa Milano’s first album (1989’s Look in My Heart), and having Frank Stallone’s self-titled disc brings me much joy. I get endless conversations out of the men-hugging-each-other cover of Ambrosia’s One Eighty, and Scott Baio’s 1982 debut gives me nightmares.

These are the pieces of my collection that are valuable to me. One day I’m going to sell it off, and then I’ll really see what it’s worth to own way too much Peabo Bryson music, but until then I’ll keep lovin’ the Stryper picture disc simply because it’s mine. So the next time someone asks me what’s the “most valuable” piece of my collection, I guess I should answer, “All of it” (which of course is the lamest answer I could possibly give).

NEW MUSIC FOR THE COLLECTION:
DFX2, Emotion
Fiona, Fiona
Hanoi Rocks, Two Steps From the Move
Full Force, Full Force
The J. Geils Band, You’re Getting’ Even, While I’m Gettin’ Odd

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Lost in the ’70s: Neil Diamond, “Desirée”

So, who worries about the music their kids listen to?

I don’t have any kids myself, but when I was visiting my 13-year-old niece recently, she asked me to get her the new Ting Tings and Office CDs (very hip, that one). At first I didn’t even think about it, until I remembered there were a few naughty words on both and I checked with her mother.

“Oh, she’s heard much worse than that. Go for it,” she told me. I was taken aback for a minute thinking, wait a minute…don’t you care that your child is being exposed to this? Thankfully, it was only a momentary flash of 40-year-old old fogey thinking, quickly dashed when I started to recall my record collection at 13.

From the Village People chanting about “My Roommate” (winkwink), to Barry Manilow bragging about feeling his “blood flow” (nudgenudge) in “Weekend in New England,” not to mention the gem of my 45 collection, Nick Gilder’s “Hot Child in the City,” my pre-teen records were just as racy, if perhaps a little less direct. Heck, even something as deceptively benign as Neil Diamond’s “Desirée” (download) had a saucy little subtext:

It was the third of June
On that summer’s day
When I became a man
At the hands of a girl
Almost twice my age

Ooooo, young Neil got some cougar action for his first time! Granted, I don’t think I knew what that opening verse really meant when I was ten years old, but now it really jumps out.

“Desirée” is a strange little single in Neil’s canon, coming at a pre-Jazz Singer time in his career when the hits were far from guaranteed. “Desirée” broke a bit of a losing streak he was having, hitting the Top 20. It’s been included in a few greatest hits packages since, but it’s not a song you ever hear on oldies radio and it’s not a tune people normally bring up in Neil Diamond conversation (and who doesn’t engage in Neil Diamond conversation at least weekly?).  For some reason, my ten-year-old self loved it, though, and the scratched and dusty 45 still sits in a box somewhere in storage.

“Desirée” peaked at #16 on the Billboard Pop Singles Chart in 1978.

Get Neil Diamond music at Amazon or on Neil Diamond

Sugar Water: Jarreau!

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Jarreau is the name of Al Jarreau’s 1983 album. It’s a simple, straightforward title, but if you ask me, it’s missing an exclamation point at the end — the multiple Grammy winner puts such joy and excitement into his performances that it’s hard not to feel as giddy as he does.

The big hit from Jarreau was “Mornin’.” It still gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. One reason is the lyrics (the song was written by Jarreau, David Foster, and Jay Graydon), which are uplifting in more ways than one:

My heart will soar with love
That’s rare and real
My smiling face
Will feel every cloud

Then higher still
Beyond the blue
Until I know I can
Like any man
Reach out my hand
And touch the face of God

What really sells the bridge is Jarreau’s delivery of the second verse. By the time he gets to “touch the face of God,” he’s pretty much done just that, leaving a mere mortal like myself marveling at the minor pop miracle I’ve witnessed. All in all, “Mornin’” is a solidly constructed, catchy song, but that moment in the bridge is absolutely transcendent — eternal rebirth captured in a four-minute “easy listening” number.

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