Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. DCV--The Bangles: Manic Monday

Wise men say, only fools fall in love, but...I'm (lucky thirteen? days) late again....

My introduction to this week's tune was when it was originally released, but it really seemed worthy of the pantheon that is Friday Night Jukebox (as if) a few years back when--you guessed it!--I found a CD of this week's group's greatest hits at our semiannual library used book sale and gave it a listen for a few months.  While I had a passing interest in the group prior to my find, I came to appreciate their talent for bitchin' pop tunes a lot more after careful listening as I drove back and forth to work.  Almost makes the daily grind worth the while....

The Bangles formed in Los Angeles in 1981, with its original lineup of Susanna Hoffs, Vicki Peterson, Debbi Peterson (yes, sisters), and Annette Zilinskas.  Zilinskas left in 1983 and was replaced by Michael Steele, thus forming what is considered to be their classic lineup.  The band released its first album to good reviews and no sales in 1984, but their follow up made them stars.  They'd release one more album before disbanding in the face of internal tensions.  They would reunite in 1998 and release two more albums, and have been togethers ever since, though Steele left in 2005, and Zilinskas rejoined in 2018.  For their career, the Bangles have released five albums (with one hitting the top five), one EP, ten compilations, and twenty-five singles (with two #1's and three more top five).  Along with the Go-Go's, they are considered by many to have paved the way for the many all-female bands that followed them.

"Manic Monday" was the first single from their 1986 LP, the rather illuminatingly entitled Different Light.  The single would reach #2 on the Billboard Hot 100, as well as # 2 in Luxembourg (which I mention only because it's the land of my ancestors and when the hell else am I going to get to say, "So many cool kids in Luxembourg!").  The album was the highest charting of their career, reaching #2 on the Billboard 200.

Fun Fact:  "Manic Monday" was written by Prince, who, for some odd-ass reason, decided to use the name Christopher for the songwriting credit.  Not sure it made any difference, as everyone knows he wrote it and I'm sure he got paid the many, many royalties that came with such a big hit.

Once again, while doing my half-assed research and listening again and again and again (three sounds about right), I noticed for the first time how wonderful the opening piano is for "Manic Monday" and how it sets the stage for the rest of the song (thank you Christopher!).  The song is a whimsical take on the horrors of Monday after your weekend off, and getting ready for another work week.  Its melody is catchy as catchy can be, the band's backing vocals are exquisite (especially the whoa-oh-ohs in the chorus), and Hoffs' vocals put the manic in their manic Monday.  It's all the joy, subtext, and sex of a classic Prince song, wrapped up in a bow by a very talented group of young women who seized the moment and created a scrumptious piece of pop music pie.  

Lyric Sheet:  "Six o'clock already, I was just in the middle of a dream/I was kissin' Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream..."

Enjoy:

Fuck Donald Trump

Peace,

emaycee

Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. DXL--Del Amitri: Always the Last to Know

 But I can't be late, 'cause then I guess I just won't get paid [as if!]....

My introduction to this week's tune was one late, lonely night while watching MTV shortly after the song was released.  I was still with Camelot Music and, as always, was listening for anything that might be the next big hit.  While this song wasn't it, it certainly had a nice little run for a nice little band....

Before I did my half-assed research this week, I had absolutely no idea that Del Amitri hailed from Scotland (Glasgow to be exact), thinking that they were an American band, as we egotistical Yanks are wont to do.  They got their start in 1980 and paid their dues for a few years before releasing their debut album in 1985.  The band would go on to a modicum of success in the U.K., selling over six million records and having four of their albums hit the top six on the U.K. charts by 2002.  The band went on a lengthy hiatus after that, before reuniting in 2013.  They've remained together in a few different incarnations ever since.  For their career, Del Amitri has released seven studio albums (five of which hit the top ten in the U.K.), and twenty-one singles (fifteen of which landed in the top forty in England, with three of those cracking the top forty here in the U.S.).  The band recorded their latest studio album in 2021 and toured the U.K. just last year.

Fun Fact:  The band's name came from lead singer Justin Currie, who'd seen a movie directed by a man named Dmitri and suggested that for its name.  Over time it was either misheard or bastardized into Del Amitri, which has no meaning.

"Always the Last to Know" was the first single from their rather transformationally named 1992 album, Change Everything.  The single would reach #30 (with a bullet!) in the U.S., and #13 in the U.K., while the album would soar to #2 in Great Britain, and peak at a whopping #178 in America (which is one more #178 charted album than I have, by the way).

Like many people, I like a good story about vengeance...and "Always the Last to Know" is a good story about vengeance.  Our hero starts out bemoaning that he's always the last to know that his ex-girlfriend is happy, sad, was cheating on him, etc., etc., until the very end when he wonders if she's happy now or if her new boyfriend is cheating on her just like...our hero did.  Man, talk about twisting that knife a bit after having stuck it in--boom, boom, pow (to steal a phrase).  Lead singer Currie delivers an impassioned vocal without getting whiny--he presents our hero as just a guy looking for a trustworthy soul mate.  The band is solid behind him, with some driving drums and some keyed-up guitars bouncing their wall of sound around.  Look, this one isn't going to make anyone forget "Let It Be," but it's a nice little single from a nice little band out of Glasgow, and sometimes that's more than enough for rock and roll.

Lyric Sheet:  "But now you're living up behind the hill/And though we share the same city and feel the same sun/When your winter comes/I'll be the last to know..."

Enjoy:

Fuck Donald Trump

Peace,

emaycee

Friday Night Jukebox, Vol. XLI--The Breeders: Cannonball

Some years ago I read a piece (no idea where, though I think it might have been written by Dave Marsh) wherein the author claimed that rock and roll lyrics were more or less vapid, and we listened to such tunes for the music.  While I wouldn't say I buy into this theory, it does have some merit.  For instance, I have loved "Cannonball" by The Breeders for a number of years now, and until I looked up the lyrics today I had absolutely no fucking clue what the hell they were singing.

Of course, I still don't know what they're singing about, but at least now I know they're using actual words....

I came a little bit late to "Cannonball"--like about a dozen years after its release (better late than never...).  I was watching some VH1 top 100 songs of something or other sometime in the 2000s when it came up on the list and as I listened it turned into one of those "How the hell did I miss this one?" moments.  Turns out The Breeders were a hiatus project for Kim Deal of the Pixies (a band that, oddly enough, I also came to sometime after the fact).  Formed in 1990, The Breeders have stayed together (more or less) in several different incarnations until the present, though outside of Last Splash (the album that spawned "Cannonball") the band has not enjoyed a wealth of popular success.  "Cannonball reached #44 (with a bullet!) on the Billboard Hot 100.

"Cannonball" starts with a chant that's sounds like it came from the mouths of the Wicked Witch of the West's Winkie Guards (and who the hell knew they were called Winkie Guards?  Certainly not me, at least until about five minutes ago).  It quickly morphs into a bass line that is a wicked rat-a-tat-tat, to which a guitar solo is added which can best be described as what walking through a House of Mirrors would sound like musically.  Next in are some power chords, by which time if you're not shaking to the music you're probably in a coma.  And it's only then that Kim Deal's vocals come bounding in, and they're a cross between the pop sensibilities of The Bangles and the throatiness of Joan Jett.  The bass and guitars continue echoing around the vocals, with a few false stops thrown in, until the end--all in all, the best description I can give of the song is that it sounds like a roller coaster feels.  And just like a roller coaster, it's about four minutes of unbounded exhilaration.

Embarrassing Factoid:  While I'd love to use the line "The bong in this reggae song" as this week's lyric link, I have to admit that until just a couple of months ago, I thought the band was singing "Shimmy shake, shimmy shake" when they were actually singing, "In the shade, in the shade."  And my coolness quotient sinks like a rock....

Enjoy:

Peace,
emaycee