BREAKING JUST IN: On Thursday, voters from Illinois and Massachusetts submitted motions to eliminate Donald Trump from the 2024 ballot, joining the list of states where the ex-president's candidacy is being contested based on the 14th Amendment's insurrectionist ban.
Numbnut Dan Crenshaw, a republican representative from the not so great state of Texas, said this week that the reelection of Massachusetts Democratic Senator Ed Markey was an insult to the legacy of JFK.
Leaving aside the obvious fact that one wonders why a no-name congressperson from Texas would have any concern about an election in Massachusetts, especially considering his republican run state leads the nation in coronavirus cases, what exactly does he think JFK's legacy is?
I've been following politics since 1976 and in all that time I have never once heard any Kennedy say they were a republican, run for office as a republican, or endorse a republican. And judging from their record, I can unequivocally state that had any of the sons of Joseph and Rose Kennedy been alive over the course of the past four years they most assuredly would have called out Donald Trump and the republican party for being the racist cowards they are. Republicans can spare us all their phony historical revision--to a person, they would have hated JFK. His legacy shapes much of what the Democratic Party is today.
And just for future reference, can they also not invoke the name of Martin Luther King, Jr.? I can guarantee you that had he lived he would have been marching in the streets protesting black Americans continued subjugation to white Americans' racism to this very day. And King as well would have called out Donald Trump and republicans for their white nationalist rhetoric and support.
Our leaders are not your heroes--it's not our fault there hasn't been a heroic republican since Lincoln.
268,000+ Dead Americans Because of Donald Trump's Incompetence
A couple of years back I was browsing through our local library's music selection and came across a four CD collections called No Thanks! The 70's Punk Rebellion. Featuring 100 songs by 75 different artists, the collection captured my fancy for the next year (highly recommend it). Over the coming years (yes, years) numerous songs from the set will be featured here, but I chose this week's first because, frankly, over the last ten years I cannot think of a tune that I enjoyed more (the first year I heard it, it was my #1 most listened to song on Spotify)...and it was fitting that it was originally released about the time my musical adventures began because it reminded me of exactly why I've devoted so much of my life to those adventures.
There probably is one, but I can't think of another band that had the kind of influence The Modern Lovers did and yet only released one album. Led by Jonathan Richman (the original incarnation also featured David Robinson who would go on to fame with the Cars, and Jerry Harrison who would eventually help to form The Talking Heads), the band began in 1970, recorded most of the songs that would make their history in 1971 and 1972, broke up in 1974, regrouped in 1976 (and released the album that contained the aforementioned songs from '71 and '72), and broke up for good in 1988. The only constant in the band was Richman, who would go on to release 8 more albums as Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers, and 17 solo albums, though Richman turned away from rock and roll and mostly performs folk music with acoustic instruments these days. The band also released three live albums. They are considered forerunners of the punk, new wave, alternative, and indie movements, and their songs have been covered by Iggy Pop, David Bowie, the Sex Pistols, and Joan Jett. Oh, and they're from Massachusetts....
"Roadrunner" was released as a single in 1976 from their debut, and only, album, the ever so cleverly titled, The Modern Lovers.While neither the single nor the album came anywhere near charting, "Roadrunner" ranked #274 (and should have been much higher) on Rolling Stone's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All-Time, and the album was ranked #381 on their list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All-Time.
Fun Fact: The Modern Lovers have another song on the above compilation called "Pablo Picasso" in which they rhyme "Picasso" with "asshole." Why that gives me such glee is a wonder, but it is the little things in life sometimes, ain't it?
It's easy to forget that in the end, for all its merits, rock and roll is a lot of fun--and that's more or less the premise of "Roadrunner." A paean to Massachusetts, rock and roll, and driving at night with the (AM) radio on, the song's exuberance is a celebration of enjoying the moment...with the radio on. I've tried and tried to come up with an adjective for Richman's vocals, but the best I could do was droll...but it works so well within the song that that's all that really matters. The song is also a tribue to the Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray" (Richman was heavily influenced by VU). From Harrison's swirling keyboards, to the driving drums and the thunderous guitars, with Richman's witty repartee as he extols driving around Boston while listening to music, until he asks the band to join in and the band chants "Radio on!" around Richman's vocals you know you are in the midst of utter brilliance. It's a lovingly strange song for a lovingly strange time (Richman reportedly wrote it 1970 at the age of 19--there ought to be a law outlawing greatness at the age of 19). And to think I missed it for forty years--but believe you me, I've been making up for lost time ever since I first heard it.
Lyric Sheet: "Roadrunner once/Roadrunner twice/I'm in love with rock and roll and I'll be out all night..."
A song about reminiscing in a blog post reminiscing about a song...
The only constant in the band Boston has been guitarist/songwriter/producer extraordinaire Tom Scholz--and considering his contributions, it's only fitting. Boston began in 1975 in Boston, amazingly enough--though honestly it began years earlier in Scholz' basement, where he'd put in his own studio and mixed and recorded most of the songs that appeared on their debut album, playing all of the instruments himself, as well. Despite being rejected by numerous labels, Scholz kept on keeping on and eventually got a record deal with Epic...which lead to their first album becoming the greatest selling debut album in history (since eclipsed by Guns 'n Roses' Appetite for Destruction--still second, though). Forty-four years down the road, Scholz is the only remaining original member (sadly, lead singer Brad Delp committed suicide in 2007, and drummer Sib Hashian--and what a great rock and roll name that is--passed away in 2017), though the band continues to tour and rumor has it, they will be releasing a new record this year. For their career, Boston has released six studio albums, the first four of which went top ten on the Billboard 200, with two of them reaching #1. Surprisingly, they've only released one compilation album (come on guys, you're not trying!). They've also had four top ten singles on the Billboard Hot 100, sold over 75 million records, and have been nominated for a Grammy. For whatever reason, they've not been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which is a real shame, especially considering that lightweights such as Rush, Van Halen, and Abba have been.... The band, though, does have a solid legacy, especially as one of the early purveyors of power pop.
Fun Fact #1: In what I'm pretty sure is a Friday Night Jukebox first, Scholz is a graduate of MIT--of which there is undoubtedly a dearth of in the world of rock and roll.
Fun Fact #2: When I was taking guitar lessons eons ago, my first teacher told me that the majority of hit songs were hit songs because the chord structures in them were very simple and people like simple. Along those lines, the bar chords used in the chorus for this week's tune (which are simple enough for a doofus like me to play) also feature prominently in the Velvet Underground's "Sweet Jane," Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," and the Offspring's "Self-Esteem."
"More Than a Feeling" was the first single released from Boston's debut album in 1976, entitled appropriately enough, Boston . The single would reach #5 (with a bullet) on the Billboard singles chart, while the album would reach #3 on their albums chart, on its way to selling 17 million copies. That's a career for a lot of folks, let alone one album.
"More Than a Feeling" is one of those songs (though vastly different than) like "Night Moves" by Bob Seger that the older I get the more I appreciate both the song and it's innate greatness. The song works on so many different levels--for one, it's how Scholz manages to make a lead guitar, a rhythm guitar, a bass guitar, and a set of drums sound almost symphonic. There's a fullness to the music that overwhelms the senses. For two, Scholz lead guitar playing is otherworldly, wielding his guitar like a siren in the night wailing out its presence. He doesn't come up often in conversations about great guitarists, but he should. Third is Brad Delp's vocals--the best falsetto this side of the Bee Gees. Finally, it's the song itself--a song about the power of music and its ability to evoke, in this case, the memory of a lost love, and how it can both ease a memory's pain and sharpen its joy. In the end, its been forty-three years since the song's release and if you turned on any classic rock radio station in America, you'd be hard pressed to go more than a day without hearing it once. It's enduring relevance is a legacy unto itself.
Liner Notes: "When I'm tired and thinking cold/I hide in my music, forget the day/And dream of a girl I used to know/I closed my eyes and she slipped away..."
Another week, another song discovered on Roadies...
A couple of months back the Beautiful Girl and I were at the mall and for shits and grins we went into the music store...of which about 10% of the store was actually devoted to music. It was one of those life goes on moments, but with a little regret that there will be kids growing up who will never know the joy I had in the thousands of hours I spent browsing record shops. Yet while parts of music's history are dying others remain: this week's tune continues the fine tradition of one hit wonders....
Massachusetts native Matt Nathanson began his recording career in 1993, and over the course of the past 25 years has released 11 albums and has managed to have a modestly successful run. Nathanson has had a host of songs featured on TV shows, and tours regularly. While not knowing the thrill (one supposes) of mega stardom (his best selling LP sold just north of 300,000 copies), Nathanson has nonetheless carved out a tiny place in the music world and is still making a living singing and playing some 25 years down the road--not a bad claim to fame.
Released on his album Some Mad Hopein 2008, "Come On Get Higher" would only reach #59 (with a bullet!) on the Billboard Hot 100, but would go on to sell over 1.8 million copies and be certified platinum by the RIAA.
I've noted a time or two here on Friday Night Jukebox that my indoctrination to the Gospel of Rock and Roll came from the top forty radio of WLS in Chicago. And if there's ever been a song I've featured on FNJ that would have felt right at home in mid seventies top forty pop, it's "Come on Get Higher." Opening with a lightly strummed acoustic guitar, Nathanson sings a paean to a woman in a relationship at a crossroads, trying mightily to get her to give him a second chance. Nathanson sings of the power of love with a catchy as all hell melody, and a chorus that is (emaycee fave!) repeated often, especially in the closing. In the end, it's another in a long but beautiful line of songs that are a piece of pop heaven--or as the Stones noted, it's only rock and roll but I like it....
Liner Notes: "If I could walk on water/If I could tell you what's next/I'd make you believe/I'd make you forget..."
Truth be told, my love affair with this week's tune began the first time I heard the chorus, when the word "dancing" was rhymed with the city of "Lansing." Whether this was because I live in Michigan, or because it's incredibly clever, only the Gods of Pop Music know for sure....
The Magnetic Fields are the brainchild of one Stephin Merritt, and were formed in 1989. Merritt is an offbeat songwriter, and the band helps to showcase his lyrical talents. Near as I can tell, the band has had zero in the way of what would be considered mainstream musical success--no hit singles, no million selling albums, no Grammy nominations let alone awards, and no record breaking world tours. Nevertheless, they've released eleven albums over the course of their twenty-eight year career, the latest being released just this year. Their album 69 Songs (which oddly enough, features 69 songs spread over three CDs, including this week's tune) is considered their best album and was released to extreme critical acclaim in 1999, including finishing second in the hipster's newspaper of choice, The Village Voice, year end Pazz and Jop poll. The three CD box set sold a whopping 83,000 copies (still 83,000 more CDs than I've ever sold). Sadly, they are another in a long line of bands that had their been world enough and time, I may have become a huge fan of, but I'll settle for having heard their delightful 69 Songs album, and the joy it brought me for months on end.
"Nothing Matters When We're Dancing" was never released as a single, though if it could have been transported back to the 40's or 50's and been given to Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett or Nat King Cole it probably would have rocketed up the charts. Featuring a deliciously strummed ukulele (another of those not oft used instruments that in the right place can take a song to another plane), Merritt's distinctive baritone, and some oh so perfect harmonies in the chorus, the song tells the tale of two old lovers lost amongst each other as they dance to the last song of the night in some old dilapidated dance hall. I'd be the first to admit it's not going to be everyone's cup of tea--a balls out rocker it ain't--but every time I hear it it adds a little sunshine to my day and I'll be singing it over and over for days on end. Sometimes a pretty song is just a pretty song....
Lyric Sheet: "And nothing matters when we're dancing/In tat or tatters you're entrancing/Be we in Paris or in Lansing/Nothing matters when we're dancing..."
Hard as it may be to believe nearly forty years down the road, but when the Cars released their first album in 1978 they were right up there with a slew of bands from the mid to late 70's such as Elvis Costello, The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Ramones, The Police, Talking Heads, and Dire Straits as far as bands that all the cool kids (or music dorks) were listening to and music critics were fawning over. Alas, unlike the the other performers who shared their time frame (with the exception of Dire Straits who pretty much followed a similar career path as the Cars), the Cars stopped pushing the envelope musically after their first LP and headed straight into massive mainstream success and rested upon the laurels of their debut album.
But, oh, what laurels to rest upon....
Formed circa 1976 in Boston Massachusetts, the Cars exploded onto the music scene in 1978 on the heels of their aptly entitled debut, The Cars, which would go on to sell six million copies and remain on the Billboard 200 for 139 weeks (and rank at #284 on Rolling Stone's "500 Greatest Albums of All Time" list), Over the course of the next ten years the Cars would release five more albums, garner a couple of Grammy nominations, win the first ever Video of the Year at the MTV Video Music Awards in 1984 (Zzzzz....), sell millions more records, and call it quits in 1988. Twenty-two years later they reformed and released the obligatory reunion album replete with the obligatory reunion tour (sadly, co-founder--along with Ric Ocasek--Benjamin Orr had passed away in 2000 from pancreatic cancer), and they remain together to the present day, still touring and still hoping for that call from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that so many of their contemporaries noted above (except Dire Straits) have already received.
Fun (and slightly sad) Fact: Nirvana performed a cover version of "My Best Friend's Girl" at their final concert in 1994.
Opening with a funkily tuned guitar that until I did my weekly half-assed research I had always assumed was a bass guitar line, and mixing in some hand claps shortly thereafter, "My Best Friend's Girl" can best be described as quirky fun--without being a novelty song. The rather strange subject matter (a man salaciously describing his best friend's girlfriend...who it just so happens, used to be his girlfriend), Ric Ocasek's matter of fact vocals, and, of all things, some rockabilly guitar licks surrounded by synth pop technology made for a song (as with others on their debut album) that wasn't quite like anything I'd ever heard before in 1978, and made for months of delicious fun singing along with the band's backing vocalists as they harmonized "my best friend's girlfriend" again and again in support of Ocasek's oddball lyrics and lovestruck vocals. Alas, the song would only reach #35 (with a bullet!) on the Billboard Hot 100, but would go to #3 in the U.K. (why are there so many cool kids in the British Isles?). Still, it's a delightful blast from my past, and has not diminished in my eyes one iota in the last forty years, and is just as joyous and catchy as the first time I heard it.
Lyric Sheet: "You're always dancing down the street/With your suede blue eyes..."
The first record I ever bought (would have been about 1974 or 75) with my own money was James Taylor's Greatest Hits. Unlike the first album purchase of many a music fan, it's not an album I've outgrown or long ago thrown to the wayside. I still have my original copy, though the LP itself is well-worn and the album cover long ago lost the luster of its original lily-white. And lo these forty some odd years later, listening to James Taylor remains one of my most comforting artists to listen to when all seems bleak.
And just the perfect antidote for what 2017 appears to be, when you consider that we're about to swear in an incompetent and idiotic turd as our next President in two weeks time.
Sigh.
By the time he was twenty-one, James Taylor had committed himself to two different mental institutions and had a full-blown heroin addiction. By the time he was twenty-three, he'd had a top ten album, a #1 single, and was on the cover of Time magazine. This isn't to say that all was well with Taylor--he battled his heroin addiction into the 80's. But he did carve out quite the career--17 studio albums, over 100 million records sold, induction into both the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the Songwriters Hall of Fame, and still draws millions of fans whenever he tours. He also has the distinction of being the first American act signed to Apple Records (both Paul McCartney and George Harrison made guest appearances on his first album), and of having his first #1 single in 1971 (a cover of Carole King's "You've Got A Friend") but not having his first #1 album until forty-four years later in 2015 (Before This World--truthfully, not one of his better efforts). In fact, Taylor has the second longest wait in chart history, behind Tony Bennett at 54 years, for having his first number one LP.
Oh, the things you'll learn here on Friday Night Jukebox...
And for those who come here for politics, Taylor is a long time supporter of Democratic candidates and regularly makes appearances and performs at their rallies (John Kerry, Deval Patrick, Barack Obama among many others). Thanks, Mr. Taylor!
"Sweet Baby James,"released in 1970 on his appropriately enough titled second LP, Sweet Baby James, was the first single from the LP but surprisingly enough, since it's a concert staple and fan favorite, never charted. The song is basically a lullaby--Taylor composed the lyrics while driving through Massachusetts to see his first nephew, also named James, and thus the song was an ode to said nephew (though Taylor admits there is an element to it that is for himself, as well). Taylor considers it his best written song and admits to spending more time on it than any other song he wrote.
One of the marks of a song featured here that I really enjoy is how much I sing it after listening to it a few days before writing the post--and this one has been in my head and sung in the shower pretty much constantly for the past few days. It's just such a gentle song--there's a peacefulness to it that you don't hear much in contemporary music (though"Good Night" by the Beatles does come to mind). The song features an acoustic guitar, some light strings, and a soft piano--but mostly it features the soothing vocals of Mr. Taylor. And it truly is a lullaby--although none of them will remember it, at one time or another I sang it to all three of my children when they were babies on those nights when they were having trouble sleeping. It's just a beautiful little piece of comfort pie for those looking for a respite from the daily strife.
Lyric sheet: "A song that they sing of their home in the sky/Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep/But singing works just fine for me..."
A number of years ago, I read a piece about pop music in which the writer (it may have been Dave Marsh , but I won't swear to it) said that pop song lyrics were nonsense and we listened again and again because of the music. I found myself somewhat ambivalent about his opinion--while I've never believed that Bruce Springsteen was on a par with T.S. Eliot as a wordsmith (Bob Dylan's Nobel Prize notwithstanding), "Born to Run" wouldn't be nearly the song it was if it had been an instrumental.
I've always thought, though, that this week's tune proved both sides--the lyrics to "Debaser" by the Pixies are so completely nonsensical and so completely brilliant that the song would be unimaginable without them. But still it's the music that keeps you coming back for more....
Formed in 1986 in Boston, Massachusetts, the Pixies may have been the Velvet Underground of their generation--they didn't sell a whole hell of a lot of records but they influenced the hell out of so, so many bands (including Nirvana, Blur, Weezer, The Strokes, and Radiohead). Their first incarnation lasted seven years before a bitter breakup--they reformed in 2004 and are still together today (though without original bassist Kim Deal, also of The Breeders fame). Amazingly, in all that time they've only released six albums, but it's been enough to keep them touring regularly and made for a hell of a greatest hits package.
Released in 1989 on theirDoolittleLP, "Debaser" was based on a film by Luis Bunuel called Un Chien Andalou (An Andulusian Dog for those who Spanish is either rusty or nonexistent), a film which is supposedly about nothing. Basing it on the film was a brilliant move by songwriter Black Francis, as "Debaser" is also pretty much about nothing. It's truly nonsensical lyrics matched with frenzied guitars and maniacal vocals...which makes it a perfect song for dorks like me who have devoted far too much of our lives to pop music but haven't regretted a minute of it. It's two minutes and fifty-six seconds of unadulterated rock and roll, two minutes and fifty-six seconds of joyous celebration, and two minutes and fifty-six seconds of riotous vocals amped by driving guitars with a funky as all hell bass and electric drumming.
In short, in case you're wondering, it's a hell of a song.
Lyric sheet: "Don't know about you, but I am un chien Andulusia!"
Former major league pitcher and political moron Curt Schilling has decided that before he runs for President in 2024 (following, the delusional Mr. Schilling believes, Donald Trump's two terms), that he wants to run against Elizabeth Warren for the U.S. Senate seat from Massachusetts in 2018.
Can't wait--seems we Democrats do very well against failed businessmen who aren't particularly bright and have a history of putting their feet in their mouths when it comes to all things racial, religious, and gender oriented.
Speaking of republicans' eyes popping out of their fucking heads--segues are for amateurs--wouldn't it be a whole lotta fun if Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick would appoint Barney Frank to fill John Kerry's Senate seat (provided Kerry is confirmed as Secretary of State) until the results of the special election to replace him are certified?
Imagine Alan Grayson with wit and nothing to lose--more good times.
The average American gets paid just enough so he doesn't quit his job, and works just hard enough so he doesn't get fired.
"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross." Source unknown
Uncle emaycee Wants You For the Coming Class War! Enlist today....
Capitalism: Give a man a fish, feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you can exploit his labor, become filthy rich, and keep the poor bastard living paycheck to paycheck for the rest of his life.
