Showing posts with label rod stewart. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rod stewart. Show all posts

Saturday, June 2, 2018

1977

(What better way to get all the hits?)


At the start of 1977 I had a two-month-old baby and had lost my girlish figure. Granted, I'd lost that the moment I learned I was pregnant, at which time I indulged myself gluttonously. Someone remarked that she was sure I was having twins. Whatever, bitch.

A new president was inaugurated in January, unfortunately. Forty-odd years of listening to this sanctimonious guy proselytize, as if he wasn't an utter and complete failure. I blame him for ushering in an era of bad music. He had an innate knack for bringing everyone down. 

And speaking of bad music, it's not so much that disco was bad as that it quickly became monotonous, with its "four on the floor" beat, which didn't leave much room for variation. The Bee Gees, however, seemed to take to it effortlessly. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The year began with this song that was featured incessantly on the Midnight Special:




My baby and I spent many two a.m.'s in the living room rocking chair watching old Maverick reruns. He couldn't really follow the plot, but he gave two little thumbs up to James Garner. This episode featured some no-name actor who was never heard from again:


Rich people in 1977 owned something called an "Apple Computer", although they couldn't really do anything with it except show it off to their envious friends, because there wasn't yet anything called the "internet". Plus it was ugly as hell. At some point in the future these Thurston Howells were able to utilize their pricey trinket to play Pong.


In winter fashion, we bulked up on cowl-neck sweaters. All the better, in my opinion, to conceal the baby fat. These were best paired with tan polyester wide-legged pants.


In February, some band called "The Eagles" had a hit song. These guys apparently didn't get the Disco Memo that was circulated to all artists with record contracts.


These guys were around, with their Conair-styled hair:


Prime-time TV was devoted to Little House on the Prairie and Happy Days (when Richie still had a big brother named Chuck, who later entered the witness-protection program) and my personal favorite, Barney Miller.


There was apparently a lot of killing going on in '77. We had the Son of Sam and Gary Gilmore, who was big news because he chose to be shot as his form of execution (I preferred the Tommy Lee Jones portrayal to the actual real-life event). 

CB radios were things that people bought and then didn't know what to do with. Rod Carew of my Minnesota Twins was named MVP. 

Elvis died. 

There was a song by a female vocalist that I liked a lot. She would later go on to sing Baby and Johnny's theme song.


Speaking of babies, a Baby Gibb brother would foreshadow the tsunami that was to come, by having a disco hit with this:


Sure, disco was bad, but put in perspective, nothing could be worse than these two hits:



We washed out our ears with this:



Late in the year, I got a night out (with my mom). She wanted to see the year's hot new movie. If you've never watched an R-rated movie with your mom, it's an awesome experience. As you slump down in your seat during the sex scenes and huddle on the floor amidst yesterday's spilled popcorn kernels, you wrack your brain trying to decide how to comment on the movie on your way out of the theater. "John Travolta's silk shirt was pretty." "Wow! Those...disco lights!"

Nevertheless, aside from Patrick Swayze, this was the awesomest dance routine performed in any movie, anytime:


And thus, this little band of brothers from Australia embarked on a whole new career and will forever be known as THE phenomenon of 1977:



Thanks, Bee Gees, for the leisure suits and gold chains.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Far Out! It's The Seventies!

That's right. The seventies. Who knew?

The popularity of American Hustle and Anchorman II has revived that lost decade. And by lost, I mean lost. I don't even remember the person I was in the nineteen seventies - it sure isn't anyone I recognize - but it's an indisputable fact I was there.

Let's face it - the music in the nineteen seventies was oftentimes cheesy. And yet, as I sat in the movie theater, watching that Oscar-nominated film (obviously not Anchorman - I mean the other film), I began to think, hmm - maybe it wasn't so awful after all.

Anyone who wasn't around back then would peg this as the ultimate representation of the 1970's:


And who could blame them? I love ABBA. Aside from John Denver, who best to take on the mantle of the nineteen seventies with such panache?

Thing is, the seventies encompassed ten whole years, and one can't sum up a whole decade with just the Bee Gees and four Norwegian pop singers. There were the Eagles and Olivia Newton-John and the Carpenters and Barry Manilow and Elton John and Wings and Fleetwood Mac and Helen Reddy (wow - haven't thought about her in decades). And don't forget Tony Orlando and Dawn. The whole thing was schizophrenic.

My taste in seventies music runs more toward England Dan and John Ford Coley than Boogie Oogie Oogie, but there's no denying that the seventies could get you out on the dance floor (that is, if you were a woman. Men don't dance, and when they try, they just look ridiculous).

So, bear with me as I indulge my country leanings first....

...with the Eagles:


...England Dan and John Ford Coley:


...Fleetwood Mac:


...John Denver:


...BJ Thomas:


...the Carpenters (ahhh):


...Olivia Newton-John:


...Ray Stevens (yes, Ray Stevens):


...and one just can't forget Blue Swede (or can they?):


...Andy Gibb (rest in peace):


But, you know, the decade rolled along and things got louder and even weirder than Blue Swede. But didn't everybody have fun?

The Village People (okay everybody - on your feet!):


Oh, I would never forget the Brothers Gibb:


Rod Stewart:


Okay, I don't care - this was from the seventies - and it happens to be one of my all-time faves, so give it up for John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John:


Did anyone actually do the Hustle? Well, I never learned the steps, apparently. Nevertheless, here is Van McCoy:


Which leads me back to the iconic images and sounds of the seventies. From ABBA to this, and I'm betting this is what everyone is going to remember:


In hindsight, I guess the seventies are kind of fun to look back on, in a nostalgic, cringe-worthy way - from Watergate to WIN buttons, from typewriters to Cabbage Patch dolls.

From eighteen per cent interest rates to my mom paying for the two of us to see Saturday Night Fever, during which I sank lower and lower in my seat, embarrassed to be watching an R-rated movie up there on the big screen (with sex scenes!) accompanied by my mom!

My sons were born in the seventies, and I'm sorry they don't have a "cool" decade to claim as their own, but hey - I was born in the fifties, so I had Pat Boone and Perry Como. And those guys are really hard to dance to.

I should say thanks to American Hustle for reminding me of those times. I guess it's a whole cottage industry now - movies about the nineteen seventies. It started with Argo, and I guess it'll run its course.

And then they'll start making movies featuring eighties songs from the likes of A-HA and Lionel Richie.

And then everyone can laugh and laugh.