Novelty, Schmovelty

I have been OD'ing on seventies schmalz lately thanks to John, who has loaded up a bunch of old Top of the Pops episodes on my hard drive. Top of the Pops was the UK equivalent of American Bandstand, with the top acts of each week lip syncing their songs for a rhythmically-challenged audience of teenagers. The interesting thing about these TOTP eps is the high number of bizarre novelty songs frequently appearing on the British charts. Below are clips of some of the weirdest.

Joy Sarney
Naughty Naughty Naughty

Joy Sarney appeared on Top of the Pops in 1977 singing this song, which was (shockingly) her only hit. It's a love song about Punch from the Punch and Judy puppet show. At one point you can plainly see the puppeteer's arm poking out through the cheap set. This song made it to #26 on the UK chart. I have to ask, was everyone high in the seventies?



Fox
S-S-S-Single Bed

This is s-s-s-serious crap. Watch this one at your own risk; the sheer ugliness of the singer's outfit (hot pants, tank top, white cape) made my eyes burn and her migraine-inducing voice sounds like Britney Spears on helium. And the guy in the Kansas City jersey? Is so high it's not even funny.



Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers
Egyptian Reggae

Jonathan Richman is a respected musician and (supposedly) a trail-blazer in the seventies punk movement. He is probably now best known for his role as the guitar-strumming Greek chorus in There's Something About Mary. It's a bit hard to swallow his alleged punk status--especially considering this song--an instrumental number that sounds neither Egyptian nor vaguely reggae-ish (and certainly not punk). That said, I do have a peculiar fondness for this video. I can watch it over and over and never get sick of it. I think it's the dancing camel. I am obsessed with the dancing camel.



Streetband
Toast

Take a close look at the bloke on the mike, if you can make out his features behind all the groovy seventies hair. Look familiar? That's Paul Young, of Everytime You Go Away, Oh Girl, Come Back and Stay, Do They Know It's Christmas, and a bunch of other shite that only I remember because back in the day I owned No Parlez, The Secret of Association, and his Greatest Hits. Recorded with his first group, Streetband, Toast is a far cry from all the earnest blue-eyed soul stuff Young would become famous for in the later years. Looking at this video--I have to ask yet again--was everyone high in the seventies?



The Wombles

The Wombles was a kids' show in the UK, and (if their Wikipedia page is to be believed), the most successful band of 1974, with albums in the UK charts for more weeks than any other act. The freaky thing about this, uh, "band," is that they weren't one hit wonders, like most novelty acts. They appeared on Top of the Pops numerous times, continued to sell records throughout the seventies, and even had a hit as late as 1998 with the dance mix Remember You're A Womble, which peaked at #13 on the UK charts.

I'll leave you with that little bizarre bit of trivia, and the Wombles themselves with their hit Wombling Merry Christmas.



Happy Holidays!

A review of stuff I hate vs. stuff I love...

The Suck It List

Stella’s Fish Café
I can’t get past the name. I don’t know who Stella is, but I know that the words “Fish” and “Café” don’t belong together. It brings to mind fish-flavored coffee, which, ew. Plus, it’s not even a café, just another restaurant/bar, like a pretentious Old Chicago. With fish.

Chino Latino
I refuse to be swayed by the cheeky billboard ads and the glittery sign. Too loud, too yuppified, and the food is crap.

Paisano’s Pizzaria (St. Paul)
This place is utter crap. Mediocre food, messy dining room, excruciatingly horrible service. You’re better off staying home, heating up a frozen grocery store pizza and eating in front of the teevee.

Sawatdee
Two words: food poisoning. Five more: dine at your own risk.

The Salon For You
I used to live above this place when I lived in St. Paul. I decided to check it out, and left with a fabulous haircut that I was extremely happy with, along with some funky reddish/pink highlights. Two months later I went back looking for the same stylist. She no longer worked there, they told me, but the owner of the salon was available to do my hair. I felt like I was in good hands—after all, if she’s the owner, she has to know what she’s doing, right? Wrong. She refused to do highlights because some weeks before I had experimented with a temporary color rinse and she said she wouldn’t color over that “as a matter of principle.” (?) Then, she proceeded to give me the worst haircut I’ve ever had in my life, and that’s saying something (I came up in the eighties, remember?) She just took the scissors, gave me a blunt cut straight across the ends, and she was done. It looked so horrible that I had to scrape together some more money and go find somewhere to get it fixed. Happily, I ended up with Mackenzie at Hair Police (see below). Her take on my botched ‘do? “Holy crap, this looks like it was done by someone who’s never cut hair before!” Thank God for Hair Police.

American Apparel
I understand that they’re famous for making their clothes in the USA by non-sweatshop labor, so good for them. But do their all-American, non-sweatshop workers have to make such fugly clothing? I mean, I don’t want my clothes made in Laos by a barefoot 9-year-old, but I do want clothes that are attractive and wearable. (Seriously, who buys this crap?)

Skintight shiny spandex? Really?

Ragstock
There was a time when nearly every scrap of my wardrobe came from Ragstock. Their clothing and accessories were quirky, functional, and reasonably-priced. Unfortunately, they have since gone straight down the crapper. I think they changed clothing suppliers or something, because they’re stuff has taken a sharp nosedive quality-wise; cheap-looking clothes that are more expensive than the lines they used to carry. And most of the clothing doesn’t even come in larger sizes—if you’re above a size 8, you’re shit out of luck. Also? Rude, unhelpful staff. (Oh Ragstock, why hast thou forsaken me?)

Luvs It

Dulano’s
Live bluegrass every Saturday night, plus damn good pizza. You can’t go wrong. Bring a date here and they’ll think you’re offbeat and original for discovering it. You’re welcome.

Nina’s Coffee Café (St. Paul)
My original St. Paul hangout, located directly across the street from my first Twin Cities apartment. Great coffee, great atmosphere, and a fabulous place to hunker down and get some writing done. I’ve seen Garrison Keillor there twice! (He owns the bookstore down below Nina’s—Common Good Books.)

Buffalo Exchange
Since Ragstock has fallen out of favor, Buffalo Exchange has picked up the slack. I love this store. Fantastic clothes, shoes, and accessories, all reasonably priced. It’s all thrift/resale, but the staff are fairly picky about what they buy and they always have a good selection of clothes that tend towards the “gently-used” rather than simply “used.”

Eye of Horus
Yeah, I’m a bit of a hippie—you got a problem with that? Didn’t think so. Even for a non-hippie, this is a cool store. It has a wide selection of candles, essential oils, and incense—stuff anyone could use, right?—along with tarot cards, crystals, runes, and mojo bags, for those of us with more esoteric needs. All this, plus a friendly and knowledgeable staff.

Nicollett Village Video
Who needs a Netflix subscription? I’d rather support independently-owned video stores like this one. Village Video has nearly every movie category imaginable, including a wide range of foreign and cult films you can’t find anywhere else. They also have a huge “Brit Vid” section, featuring shows like Spaced, The Tomorrow People (remember that one, fellow Gen-Xers?) and Not the Nine-o’Clock News. It rocks. Hard.

Hair Police
As long as I live in the Twin Cities, I will never go anywhere else to have my hair done.

I'm a bit pressed for time (and internet access) tonight, so I can't do the proper post I was planning on. Instead, here are some of my favorite clips from some of my favorite obscure Brit-coms; sort of a "Greatest Hits" list.

The first batch is from the show Pulling. It's a brilliant show that--as much as I love it--hits a bit too close to home for me sometimes.

Donna (the main character) tries to impress an old school friend with her fabulous new digs and her sophisticated flatmates...


Karen (the slutty one--and my favorite) gets confused...


Karen is also a nursery school teacher....


From Big Train, a fantastically bizarre BBC comedy from the late nineties that featured a young Simon Pegg....


And more...

By the way, remember when Prince changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol? Damn, the nineties were weird.

This rocks so hard....


And last but not least, the amazing Steve Coogan in "Alan Partridge and the sex people" (great band name, by the way):


Stay tuned, will do a proper post soon.

I saw This Is It over the weekend, and was blown away. I think everyone—Michael Jackson fan or not—should see it. You come away with a new respect for the man and his artistry. Whether or not he was talented isn’t debatable—even his detractors couldn’t argue with that—but what impressed me the most was his insane dedication to his craft. He obsessed over every detail of the show, from beginning to end, and not in a diva/superstar “flatter me and make sure my lighting is perfect” sort of way, but as a true, bona fide artist who was really at one with his work, an artist who truly cared about the quality of the entire performance and making certain it was presented to his audience in the most authentic possible manner.

Two things you have to get over first: obviously, Jackson wasn’t well, and didn’t look it. In fact, much of the time he looks downright ghostly. The other thing is, yes, it’s an obvious bid to cash in on his death. I think the latter in particular is keeping some people away, people who feel they shouldn’t see the film as a matter of principle. I am telling you, get over yourself and see it NOW while you can still catch it on the big screen. Everyone needs to violate a few principles once in a while, and this is one of those times.

Seeing the film reminded me—yet again—how sad the current generation of entertainers is in comparison. And I’ll take this opportunity to point out a few, just because they make it so damn easy.

Exhibit A: Hilary Duff.


Ten bucks says she's listening to pubescent punk goddess Miley Cyrus's cover of "Baba O'Reilly" on those things.

I don’t think Duff has done much singing as of late, as she appears to be focusing on an acting career. I actually caught Hilary Duff’s performance in War, Inc and I’m guessing Meryl Streep isn’t feeling too threatened by it. (The entire movie is a giant dried up dog turd, incidentally. I love John Cusack as much as the next Gen-Xer, but when he makes a bad film, he doesn’t fool around. See also: Grosse Pointe Blank and Pushing Tin). One entrance in Duff’s musical catalog is particularly horrifying. It’s her cover of The Who’s "My Generation." I checked it out, and it’s every bit as execrable as you’d imagine. I found out about this remake on Cracked.com, which is where I get most of my news these days. They sum up Duff’s hatchet job better than I ever could:

People try to put your generation down, do they, Hilary? Maybe it's because your generation has a habit of mistaking glorified Mouseketeers for musicians. Or maybe it's because your generation gave rise to a version of the music industry that asparagus-pisses in the face of everything rock stands for. Either way, it looks like Hilary's in the process of following her own advice and just f-f-f-fading away.

Exhibit B: Britney Spears and her tired lip-synching.



Holy fucking shit. I think this is the un-sexiest image ever caught on film.

It seems that a certain official in the land down under is calling out Britney Spears and her puppeteers for foisting her phony, bland, karaoke-track lip-synching ass on their fair country.

Virginia Judge, the Minister for Fair Trading for New South Wales (the Australian state that includes Sydney), said she is considering options to make sure fans aren't misled when buying tickets to Britney's Circus tour concerts. Some seats are going for more than $1,300.

"It is Britney's 'prerogative' to lip-sync, and it is my job to make sure consumers know what they are paying for up front," Judge said in a statement released by the government.

Australia, I now totally forgive you for producing Russell Crowe.

Exhibit C: Kid Rock


Actual mug shot. Not kidding.

My friend Marcus and I once decided that Kid Rock looks like a heavily tattooed janitor who definitely can’t work past 5:00 tomorrow because his cousin is giving him a lift downtown to meet with his parole officer, and this time for sure he really positively CAN’T be late, motherfucker, or he’ll get his ass sent right back to the slammer (I believe we also decided he’d served time for something involving crystal meth and domestic abuse).

Kid Rock recently sort of covered/sampled/raped “Sweet Home Alabama” and substituted the original lyrics for his own, which sounds about right. Other than that, I believe he is best known for giving the pork sword to Pamela Anderson, and for being the President of the Asshole Douchebags of America (Eminem is the VP).

In conclusion (going back to the original point of this post), I strongly encourage you to see This Is It. Think of it as paying your respects to the memory of a true artist whose legacy will—let’s hope—far outlast the dog shit-encrusted footprints of the current crop of glorified karaoke-fied lip-synching strippers and abominable musical whores exemplified above.

On a side note…I’m really into the high-falutin’ polysyllabic words today, aren’t I?

Happy Day 'o the Dead!

I would have posted yesterday on Halloween, but I was too busy getting drunk and trying to keep my Magenta wig on straight, an effort that required every brain cell I have left.

Today I thought I'd post a little something for the kids, because I believe the children are our future and we don't want them having all the fun that we had; the little bastards are spoiled enough already. Here is an anti-LSD vid from the sixties. It seems the makers of this short really know their subject matter, as whomever produced this video seriously had to be tripping their balls off. Not only does it function as (sort of) an anti-drug PSA, it also has a strong pro-vegetarian message--definitely a cause I can get behind.

Next time you are about to stuff a hot dog in your face, you're going to think of this video. And scary, hairy, screaming trolls.