Showing posts with label sonny and cher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sonny and cher. Show all posts

Saturday, December 8, 2018

And Now For Something Different

I have no burning topics tonight, so while I'm listening to my favorite Sirius channels, I thought I would try something different. From among my favorite channels, I will choose a song that is currently streaming and offer my critique. The only rule is that it has to be a song I've heard before. I'm not in the mood to write a review of an obscure Bobby Rydell track.

My favorite channels essentially consist of all the decades from the fifties through the eighties, plus Prime Country, Willie's Roadhouse, The Bakersfield Beat, The Garth Channel (which rarely plays anything good), The Beatles Channel, and a couple of odd ones ~ Red, White and Booze and (currently) Country Christmas, which has been a vast disappointment.

First up:

Carrying Your Love With Me ~ George Strait (Prime Country)

This was released as a single from the album of the same name. George Strait's seventeenth album does not rank among his best. It contains approximately three good songs and seven forgettable ones. What stands out on this track is its chorus's sing-along-ness. The casual radio listener can pretend she actually knows this song just by chiming in on the chorus. As a piece of songwriting, it comes across as an idea that didn't know where it wanted to go. I imagine the writer came up with that first line ("All I've got's this beat-up leather bag") and then added some filler lines that don't exactly ring and don't bother to rhyme. The chord progression is run-of-the-mill. George apparently liked what he heard, however, and found a way to spiff it up with a nice steel guitar riff. I imagine he also liked the images the song conveys. The second verse does improve considerably. I would have advised the writer to polish Verse One before pitching the song.

Everything Is Beautiful ~ Ray Stevens (70's on 7)

This song was a huge hit in 1970. It's one of the few serious songs, unfortunately, that Ray ever recorded. Ray apparently found his niche doing novelty songs and was very successful with them, but they overshadowed his lovely voice and songwriting. This is a song of its time. The sixties had barely slipped away and people were of the notion that peace, love, and flower power would magically prevail. Nevertheless, Ray is a masterful songwriter ~ the song flows perfectly. Like a lot of songs from around that time, this one begins with the chorus, which is impactful. The verses that follow carry more weight once the primary theme has been established. If you want to hear a beautiful voice, search out Ray's "Misty" album (or CD, I guess). Ray's singing has been sorely underestimated over the years, mostly due to his emphasis on comedy. He should have had more confidence in the beauty of his voice.

Hungry Like The Wolf ~ Duran Duran (80's on 8)

I was a major MTV watcher in the eighties, but for unknown reasons, this track did not resonate with me at the time. It was only later, with the volume twirled up on my car radio, that I came to love this song. I don't know much about Duran Duran. I know they had other hits, but this is what they will be remembered for. Most of the lyrics are unintelligible to me, but I do know they rhyme. It actually doesn't matter what the words are ~ this is a "feel" song, as most good songs are. The most memorable lyrics are (and you know it), "Doo doo do dit, do doo dit, do doo dit, doo do dit, doo do".

I also like the "ow-www" that injects itself into the chorus, even though I did read "Small Sacrifices" and realize its significance in the story, but I choose to ignore that and just rock out to the song.

Please Please Me ~ The Beatles (60's on 6)

Please Please Me was released as a single in 1963, about eight months before I ever knew about this band that would change my musical life forever. The song is quite elementary, but delivery, boys, delivery. John wrote the song as a paean to Roy Orbison, which, regrettably fails in its endeavor. I've even written a song more reminiscent of Roy Orbison than this one, but perhaps it's all in the ears of the beholder.

Please Please Me was featured on the Beatles' debut album, which must have been recorded in a great hurry, because if you listen closely, Paul and John are singing completely different lyrics from one another in one of the verses. I don't know why Sir George Martin let that slip by, but maybe he figured this was a lose-lose proposition, so why bother?

The element that makes the song stand out, other than the fact that no one had ever heard anything like this group ever, ever; is John's low register "come on".

Other high points include Paul's bass and Ringo's drumming. The low point is John's harmonica. I would have vetoed that if I were George Martin, but again...The bridge is excellent ~ the staccato lyrics and the renowned falsetto "ooh's" of Harrison and McCartney. As a song that established The Beatles, it passes muster.

I'm Still Standing ~ Elton John (80's on 8)

I'm hard-pressed to find an Elton John song that I don't like. This song was ostensibly written by Elton alone, unlike every other song of his for which Bernie Taupin wrote the lyrics. As much as I've loved Elton John over the decades, there was always a disconnect between the lyrics and the music; or should I say, the lyrics never made any sense. I shouldn't say "never" because sometimes they made sense, but mostly they didn't. It really didn't matter, though, because Elton is another "feel" artist. He could sing practically any nonsense words and listeners would swoon. His voice is warm honey. 

I Got You Babe ~ Sonny and Cher (60's on 6)

Sonny Bono was not the world's best songwriter, but he gets points for tenacity. Cherilyn Sarkisian was sixteen years old and, as the world turned in the sixties, living with Sonny, who was miles older than she. Sonny was a hanger-on at Phil Spector's studio and thus convinced the wall of sound producer to record the duo in '65.

It's really only thanks to Spector (the murderer) and the Wrecking Crew that this track shot to Number One. Cher (as she was now known) did have something; a spark of serendipity. The song itself was a rip-off of Dylan. Bono sang his part as if he was Dylan. Steal from the best, they say. There is no denying that the song is memorable, even if only due to kitsch. 

Dion and The Belmonts ~ Lovers Who Wander (50's on 5)

The fifties are sorely underestimated. Doo-wop is a thing that the world needs more of. Doo-wop is an art. It requires the perfect mix of background guttural noises and a lead singer whose voice can soar. Doo-wop is all about sound. Lyrics actually don't matter. Dion was a doo-wop king. He was adept at doing the fills. It wasn't so much what was said ~ it could have been anything, but mostly it was about romance gone bad. Doo-wop was, like Elton John, all about the "feel". Don't, whatever you do, discount the fifties.

You Didn't Have To Be So Nice ~ Lovin' Spoonful (Oldies Party)

The first time I heard the Lovin' Spoonful was in 1965. "Daydream" fueled my downtown meanders with Cathy, my fifth-grade best friend. I've opined about how "Do You Believe In Magic" is the most glorious rock song ever, thanks to (the late) Zal Yankovsky and his utter musical joy. Zal was a man who consecrated music ~ the lone man I've found whose pure delight makes my heart soar. That doesn't happen. I didn't know it at age eleven, but I do now.

Hours have passed since I began this experiment. I'm rather sleepy now, but I think it was a success.

I'm keen to do it again. As the kids say, it was kinda groovy.

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Learning Music

(some guys)

I didn't begin to put it all together until I was around age nine. At nine I saw Manfred Mann and most importantly, Roy Orbison, on TV for the first time. "Oh, Pretty Woman" was the absolute, bar-none best song I'd ever heard in my whole life (to date).

And this song was profound (okay, not really), but I really, really liked it:

But I also lived in an apartment attached to a country-western bar, so I was confused. Buck Owens and Bobby Bare poured out of my uncle's juke box, while my little plastic table-side radio blasted out The Dave Clark Five and the Animals. I was warbling, "There goes my baby with someone new" as part of my little cousin trio. I had the Beatles, of course, tucked in my pocket. The Beatles were still my secret in 1964.

1964 was a Pop Rocks explosion of music. Once I moved back home to the farm, I had Shindig on ABC TV, where I saw the Righteous Brothers and Gerry and the Pacemakers and the Beach Boys. And I had my big brother -- the supreme arbiter of musical taste.

It wasn't until 1965, though, that it all became clear to me. In addition to my brother, I had a best friend who I discovered music with. I can't emphasize enough how important it is to discover music with somebody who shares your sensibilities. My brother was an expert, but my friend Cathy heard the same songs at the exact same time I did, and we reveled in our shared awe.

Music was joyous in 1965. Maybe it was partly me, but I really think the music was buoyant. It was a musical renaissance. Sort of like today's sensibilities, the music before '65 had been all message-driven. It wanted us to think (think!) about things. I blame Bob Dylan. I was too young to think! Think about what? I didn't even know what the heck the folkies were complaining about. But they sure were bitchy. That wasn't music to me. Music was supposed to be fun. That's why they were called "songs"; not "dissertations". Even today, I hate, hate when people try to preach to me. "The answer is blowin' in the wind". Okay, well, blow away, dammit! Leave me the F alone!

Even the sad, morose, songs in 1965 at least had a catchy beat.

And there were the songs that made no sense, and that was the point, A guy from Dallas, Texas, named Domingo Samudio could dress as an Arab sheik and do something like this:

I frankly thought "Sloopy" was an unattractive name for a girl. It sounded like "Sloppy", or like someone who dribbled a lot.

I wonder whatever happened to the McCoys. (I used to do The Jerk, too. Didn't everybody?)

I never could figure out why Sonny Bono dressed like Fred Flintstone. It was a fashion choice, yes, but not necessarily a wise one. I half-expected him to scuttle away in a car that was powered by his fat bare toes. Nevertheless, who hasn't attempted this song on karaoke night?

I never could quite get into the Rolling Stones. That still holds true today. I have honestly tried -- honestly. I want to like them. My husband reveres them. They just don't do it for me. 

My recollection of this song is me standing outside in my circular driveway, holding my tiny transistor to my ear, and hearing a guy talking about someone smoking cigarettes, which I could relate to, because my dad smoked cigarettes. But other than that, ehh.

Shindig loved the Righteous Brothers. I loved the Righteous Brothers. This track was produced by an insane killer, which unfortunately colors my memories of the song, but geez, it's Bill Medley:

The Beach Boys were gods. Still are. I didn't know which one was Brian, or which one was Carl or Dennis, and it didn't matter. What mattered were those overly-tight white pants (just kidding! But not a wise fashion choice.) This track is notable due to the fact that they finally let Al Jardine sing lead. Of course, I didn't know that then. To me, the Beach Boys were the Beach Boys. I was not obsessed with who sang what. I still liked Little Deuce Coupe the best, although that was like a foreign language to me. I thought they were singing, "little do scoop". Which has nothing to do with this song:

Back to my brother:  He liked this song. I'd never heard the term "boondocks" before (or frankly, since). I remember pondering that word. I finally settled on "boondocks" equals "woods". I think that's wrong. But at ten, I pictured Billy Joe Royal singing about his life living inside a grove of trees. You be the judge:

My brother also had this single. He informed me that Gary Lewis was Jerry Lewis's son, like that was supposed to be a big selling point. I thought Jerry Lewis was a whiny overgrown child who was definitely not funny. There was an actual child in my household who was three years old and he was funnier than Jerry Lewis. I didn't actually mind Gary Lewis, but his entire recording was a fake, recorded by the Wrecking Crew, with even someone in the studio "helping" Gary with his vocals. 

Of course, I didn't know that in 1965. I didn't even know, or think about, how records were made. I thought they appeared by magic. I had absolutely no conception of someone standing behind a mic in a studio. In my ten-year-old mind, a bunch of guys got together and sang. That was the entire process. It was like Elvis breaking into song on the beach -- no instruments; yet I heard them. No microphone -- his voice carried across the rolling waves with nothing but a trio of dancing "friends" behind him in the sand. It's sort of how food appears on one's plate. Somebody disappears behind a door and comes out with a platter. I love magic.

People's memories are selective. Sure, when we think about '65, we know about the Beach Boys and Bob Dylan and Blah-Blah and the Blah-Blahs. But do we remember the Beau Brummels?  Well, we should, because they were on the radio all the time. You couldn't click on your transistor or flip on the car radio without hearing this song:

Speaking of Dylan, here's the deal:  I didn't know who this guy was in '65. I liked Rainy Day Woman #12 and 35, because I found it weird, and weird was good at ten years old. My brother told me the guy's real name was Robert Zimmerman and that he was from Hibbing, Minnesota. Okay. Well, good. My brother bestowed this knowledge upon me like it was very important. That's why I remember it to this day. I guess you had to be nineteen to "get" Bob Dylan; not ten. 

I still think he is a bad singer -- I mean, come on. Nevertheless, the man can write. This became clear to me when I was watching a documentary about Duluth, Minnesota, and the narrator recited a line about the city that I thought, "Wow; great line!" and then she said, "This was written by Bob Dylan." That's when I finally got it. 

This song is preternaturally long. The Beatles' tracks were 2:30, tops. It's not as long as "American Pie", which is like comparing "Achy Breaky Heart" to "Amarillo By Morning". Apples and putrefied oranges. But it's still long. Again, I did not understand at age ten that DJ's needed bathroom breaks. I thought they just sat there and listened to the records like I did. And every once in a while, they shouted out the station's call letters and the current temperature. But disc jockeys, just like real people, had to heed nature's call, so they really (really) liked this song:

I was fascinated by Roy Head when I saw him on Shindig. This was the most rubbery performer I'd ever seen! I remember worrying that his tight pants would split, but that could be just a false memory. Still, this guy was limber!

My boys were everywhere in '65. There was the Saturday morning cartoon, which was awful, but they played the songs, so, of course, I watched it. There were Beatles figurines. My mom bought me Ringo (thanks, Mom).

(notice that they all look basically the same)

 Of course, if I still had that figurine today, I would be a multi-millionaire! (Okay, maybe not.)

My boys had three records in the Billboard 100 in 1965. Here's one that doesn't get played a lot:

Another artist who's mostly forgotten, but shouldn't be, is Johnny Rivers. "Live At The Whisky A Go Go" was monumental. Never mind that they apparently didn't know how to spell "whiskey". In the early two thousands, I had the opportunity to see Johnny Rivers live, and he was still phenomenal. And everything that Jimmy Webb wrote in his awful book about Johnny means absolutely nothing to me. Mister Balloon Man.

Johnny hit the charts in 1965 with this:

Let me tell you about joyous music.

The first time I heard The Lovin' Spoonful was when "Daydream" wafted out of my transistor's speaker. What a day for a daydream. My best friend, Cathy, and I skipped along the streets of downtown Grand Forks with our radios pasted to our ears, warbling "I'm lost in a daydream, dreamin' 'bout my bundle of joy".

Then there was Zal Yankovsky. 

Zal knew that music was joyous. I don't even have to point him out to you in this video -- you'll know him. That's how music is to me.

1965 is when I learned music.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

My "Career" ~ Part 7 ~ Another New Boss?

I will readily admit that I liked having my boss 1,594 miles away.

It's not that we ever tried to hide anything, or misrepresented anything that we were doing.  It was just freeing to not have a boss sitting with his spyglass trained on me every waking hour of the day.

Peter was young (the first boss I ever had who was younger than me), and earnest.  I will give him his due (and later, I will give him his what-for; but that's another discussion).  He was a good boss.

Peter was all about incentivizing people.  That was important, in our biz.  Our people didn't get paid a lot, and the work was tedious.  We needed to give them a reason to hang in there (aside from the fun).


And he, rightly, understood that he also needed to incentivize me.  I was doing a manager's job on a supervisor's pay.  And I was basically turning over my life to my job and to the company.

One of our first telephone conversations involved the logistics of where I was to put all the additional supervisors.  We had two supervisor cubicles; one in the front of the unit, and one in the back.  I had five supervisors!  Two cubicles were fine, if we were only talking about the day shift and the second shift, but things were getting a bit cramped, and sharing cubes was sort of like the Warner Brothers cartoon of the wolf and the sheepdog, Sam and Ralph, punching in and punching out.

Peter said to me, well, what about that empty office back there in the corner?  I said, an office?  I'd never had an office before.  Nobody's using it, he said.  It's dark.  The light's never been turned on.  You should just move in.

Really?  I could do that?  Why not, he replied.  I said, I think that's not going to go over well.  "Just do it.  Move in."

So I did.

And it did not go over well.  I'd had a manager, Linda, before I'd made the transition from Claims.  Linda was Phil's lackey.  She occupied the office next door to him.  The contempt she felt for Phil dripped like tears of leather and acid.  But at least bleached-blonde, perfectly-coiffed Linda had an office!  That was her one consolation, seeing as how she had to play go-fer to Phil.

Now I had an office just like hers!

 Dennis, Lynnette, and Peg ~ "decorating" my office for my birthday.  Grrr!!

The first time she walked past that suddenly brightly-lit room, she actually did a double-take.  She was walking, and then she stopped walking, and then she began backtracking, until she backed over to my doorway, and said...."Congratulations?"

Ooh, Linda was not happy.  And I didn't have to report to Linda anymore, so I waved to her, sweetly, and replied, "Thanks!"  And then Linda fumbled a bit for words, and managed to propel herself forward again, on down the walkway to her own, identical, office....leaving trails of angry smoke in her wake.

Thank you, Peter.

Peter was also generous with the Super Saturday budget ("Hat Day", to us in the know).  He'd give us $300.00, and my main supervisor, Laurel, and I would head out and do some serious shopping, and buy enough nice prizes as we could with our allotment.

 My "main" supe ~ Laurel ~ decorating one of the other supe's cubes for her birthday

Oh sure, Peter would call once a day.  That was what a good manager should do.  Sometimes he would initiate conference calls, so I would make sure all my supervisors were in attendance, there in my office, and I'd put Peter on speaker phone, and the five of us were free to roll our eyes as much as we needed to, and to silently mouth replies to one another, and to stifle a giggle or two, but overall, we were respectful, because we respected him (at the time).

And our IKFI units kept right on producing.   The year after the "Hee Haw Halloween", I believe I made a promise to the staff that if they exceeded their goal, a famous singing duo would stop by and do a song for them.  They hit it out of the park, naturally.

So, along came Sonny & Cher:

Everyone remarked that I looked so much like Phil, with that mustache.

And we serenaded them with, "I Got You, Babe", although I somehow sounded more like Bob Dylan than Sonny Bono.

Our little department became such a success that it was determined that the company would try to replicate that achievement, in other locales.  A division was started in Allentown, PA, and later, one in Blue Bell, PA ("Blue Bell" ~ doesn't that sound pretty?).  I patiently schooled the new supervisors of those divisions in the workings of the IKFI Department.  I had, after all, authored the training manual, and I had developed the performance standards.

I took endless calls from the dolt, Pat, who was in charge of the Allentown office.  I became concerned that she didn't seem to understand things, since she asked me the same questions over and over, but I exercised patience, and I was blindly confident that she would eventually catch on.  I tutored the Blue Bell guy, as well.  Daily.

As a respite from the constant telephone irritation, the IKFI Department decided that we should hold our first annual (and, as it turned out, one and only) picnic.  We didn't rely on Peter, this time, to furnish us with an operating budget.  We financed it all on our own, and we solicited local businesses to donate door prizes.  Somewhere along the line, it was determined that we would have a Hawaiian theme (I think because the Oriental Trading Company catalog was featuring cheap party favors, including straw beachcomber hats).  We had volleyball, and face painting for the kids, and we offered the opportunity for everyone to have their "official" picture taken next to the surfboard, which had the welcoming logo, "You're Next", printed on it.

Official IKFI Party Planning Committee

Meanwhile, we were aware that Halloween 1998 was rapidly approaching.  I had become enamored of the movie, "Grease", so I suggested that we do a Grease theme for our contribution to the annual rite of October.

Once again, we outdid ourselves.  One of our people was a good graphic artist, so she created some signage, replicating the Grease logo.  We also designed one of those "test your strength"  hammer games, and we had numerous Grease carnival midway attractions.

 Dennis and Gaby (or "Gabby", as Phil would say.)

A bunch of us corralled one of our employee's daughters into showing us some moves for the song, "We Go Together", which she had at one time performed with her dance troupe, so she stopped by and tutored us in the proper moves, and we spent a few hours practicing our routine in my....nice,

 We were ready.

One of my supervisors, Lynnette, was designated to be "Frenchy", so I bought a can of pink spray-on hair coloring, and proceeded to spray her blonde hair pink.  She looked beautiful when I was done.

 Lynnette ("Frenchy") and Laurel ("Sandy")

I, as was my wont, was Danny Zuko, and my main supervisor, Laurel, was Sandy.   We, too, had our gangs.  Another brave lady, she, too, with short hair, became my Kinickie, and we also had Jan and Marty, and the whole crew.

 The T-Birds

When the judges made their way to our little corner of the world, we switched on a boom box recording of "We Go Together", and proceeded to dazzle them with our tightly-rehearsed moves.

During the instrumental break in the song, we actually grabbed hands with the various judges and performed a jitterbug with them.  Getting the judges involved in the action!

At the end of the song, everybody in our troupe boogied on down the aisle and were handed their yearbooks at the end of the line, and danced on off, just like in the movie.

It was spectacular.

People still talk about it to this day. 

Once again, we blew everybody away.  Over on the other side of the building, the self-insured employees did a "Titanic" theme.  But all they stupidly did was stand there stupidly in front of their cardboard boats.  Where was the dazzle in that?  They took second place (a "pity" designation, I have no doubt).

And, meanwhile, back in IKFI,  all the people loved us, and hated us.  But we got the trophy, so la dee DAH!

Alas, however, while we were savoring the good times, we had no clue about the bad times to come.

To be continued......

My "Career" ~ Part  8 ~ "Everything's Great!"

My "Career" ~ Part 9 ~ A Cold Wind

My "Career" ~ Part 10 ~  Thank You ~ Goodbye

My "Career" ~ Part 11 ~ Breaking the News

My "Career" ~ Part 12 ~ Loose Ends 

My "Career" ~ Epilogue

Previous Chapters:

My "Career" ~ Part 6 ~ Who Do You Think You Are?

My "Career" ~ Part 5 ~ Welcome to the I-Land

My "Career" ~ Part 4 ~ Phil

My "Career" ~ Part 3 ~ Karma

My "Career" ~ Part 2 ~ Evil Bosses

My "Career ~ Chapter One

Saturday, August 2, 2008

A Fond Look At Duets

One doesn't hear too many duets anymore. I guess it goes in cycles. There was a time when duets were, apparently, the thing to do. Especially in the sixties. People were always pairing up, sometimes with one duet partner for awhile; then they'd switch to a new one.

For example, in country music, Loretta Lynn started her duet career recording with Ernest Tubb. Then she later joined up with Conway Twitty and became quite successful. Even Porter Wagoner didn't start out with Dolly Parton. His previous duet partner was Norma Jean. And, of course, Dolly later went on to record some hits with Kenny Rogers.

In pop music, people seemed to stick together more. There were, of course, Sonny & Cher. But also Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell. The Everly Brothers (duh). Sam & Dave. You get the picture.

This gal started out singing with dear old dad, but she later had a lot of success teaming up with Lee Hazelwood.


Of course, that's all well and good, for camp's sake, but here's the original:


Speaking of MARVIN GAYE and TAMMI TERRELL, here's:


Marvin Gaye was cool.

Well, you gotta include Sonny and Cher, but I just can't watch "I Got You Babe" another time. So, here's a song of theirs that I always liked:

know I've mentioned this in the past, but one reason I love watching these old videos from the sixties is because they usually include cheesy dancing. And, you know, let's face it, the jerk was not compatible with a lot of songs. You can't just dance the jerk to every song - especially a ballad. I don't know why they tried. But they did.

I do want to throw in some not-so-obvious selections, and this is a cool one, from the eighties.

Who could ever forget those memorable lines, "What have I.....what have I......what have I......"


And, like Marvin Gaye, Dusty Springfield was cool, too.

Speaking of legends, here's:


I'm so excited that I found this one: Barbara Mandrell also had a duet partner in her early days, and it was David Houston. I love this song:

She was so cute, wasn't she?

Oh, let's just get it over with and watch this one. Thanks, Barry Gibb. I think every time I turned on the radio in 1978, I heard this song. And then I'd get it stuck in my head.

Earlier, of course, Dolly had another duet partner. Here's one I like:


I don't want to intimate that the only country duets were done in the sixties and seventies. They went on as long as the 1980's! (Okay, yea, I know about Brooks & Dunn and Sugar & Spice, or whatever the heck the rest of them are called). I like Brooks & Dunn. I'll try to find some videos, but I'll betcha they're not embeddable - how much you wanna bet?

Anyway, here's a duo that I just happen to love. And this is one of my favorite songs of theirs:


FIVE STARS on this one!

And while we're on the topic of my favorite artists, here's two for the price of one!


Before we leave country (for now), let's listen to my favorite Conway & Loretta duet:


Okay, that concludes our country segment for now. Now on to "Midnight Special". Remember that show? It was on Friday nights, late, and I'd happen to catch it just as I was coming home from my late-night drinking.......I mean, bible study.

Of course, Kenny Loggins went on to a great career in movie soundtracks. I don't know exactly what Jim Messina went on to, but here's a good one:

Yikes, this was from 1973? Man, that's old! Hey, wait a minute - I graduated in 1973! Man, I'M old!

Even older, here are Seals and Crofts, from 1972:


I do want to know, however, how they managed to get jasmine in their minds. Cuz that's kind of strange. I mean, I don't have lilac bushes in my mind (I don't think).

Older still, although the video is newer:

I had to include this, since I watched "The Graduate" again a couple of weeks ago on Free In Demand movies. I love watching old movies (old, meaning, from the '60's). Then I watched "Rain Man" last week, because I hadn't seen it for awhile, and I wanted to compare Dustin Hoffman's performance in that movie to the earlier one. "Rain Man" is a really good movie! I really dislike Tom Cruise, but Hoffman was great in that.

This is really off-topic, but there is a song in the movie, "Rain Man" that I just love. It's called, "Beyond The Blue Horizon", and I had to watch the end credits to find out who sang it. Surprisingly, it was Lou Christie. The falsetto man himself! I downloaded the song from Amazon, because I am just so taken with the song. I've completely gained a new respect for Lou Christie.

I guess I'll close out this post with just one more song. I think this topic deserves to be continued, don't you? So, I'll pick up on it in another post.

Well, I really love the Everly Brothers. It all goes back to, "Bye Bye Love" and me performing that song as part of a trio, when I was just nine'ish.

But aside from that, this is a lovely song, and a good way to end this chapter.

Friday, March 14, 2008

The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame, You Say?

I don't understand why everything these days has to be politicized. Even the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame.

You know that old saying, "It's not what you know; it's who you know"? Well, I guess here, "it's not what you do; it's who you ....." Well, you get my drift. Are you listening, Jann Wenner?

While everyone is bowing at the feet of Madonna, just for "fun", let's take a look at the artists who are not in the hall of fame, shall we?















These are just the ones I could come up with tonight. I'm sure there are many more. Let me know who I've missed.

So, Madonna should get in before these others? Why, may I ask? And is she even "rock"?

Why the politicizing? And what does Jann Wenner have against Neil Diamond? Because that one is so obvious, I don't know how it could be innocently overlooked.

Remind me never to buy Rolling Stone magazine ever again.