Ahh…the movie montage. It is the perfect way to show a lot of action in a short period of time. This was a very popular movie making technique in the 80’s. There were many different versions, but this time around I’m going to focus on “The Dance Training Montage”.
There are 4 basic parts:
The kick ass ’80s song.
Let’s get serious now, you suck.
Let’s goof around a bit now, you’re improving.
After a tough 2-3 minutes you are a professional dancer!
Dirty Dancing
Pony Boy’s big brother teaches Ferris Bueller’s sister to dance.
Kick Ass ’80s Song- Eric Carmen “Hungry Eyes”
His earth shattering advice to get things started? “Ga-Gung…Ga-Gung…Close your eyes. Now dance bitch!”
At the 3:00 mark a dance move requires Johnny to run his hand down the length of Baby’s arm. Of course, at first she can’t take it without laughing.
The training is done after she somehow musters up the will power to handle all of that sexy touching. The sexual tension is oozing out of my computer screen. Something tells me she will be running her hand down the length of his “baby’s arm” real soon.
Footloose
6 degrees of Kevin Bacon has to teach a pre-bloat Chris Penn how to boogie before the big dance.
Kick Ass ’80s Song – Deniece Williams “Let’s Hear it for the Boy”.
For some reason they start things off in that super roomy VW bug.
Halfway through the guys stop for a little manly tussling in the gym.
Around the 2:25 mark the boys high five to represent the final handoff of dance knowledge. Chris Penn then shows off his skills with an epic solo dance number complete with coveralls and farm gloves.
Breakin’
Turbo and Ozone have to teach a Mary Lou Retton look alike to break dance.
Kick Ass ’80s Song- Chaka Khan’s “Aint Nobody”
Things start off a little on the tense side when Turbo calls out the girl’s street cred.
At the 3:00 mark the gang takes a little time out to goof around wearing super stylish monogrammed T-shirts.
At the 3:06 mark an observer sees her massive improvement and drops his phone. Damn! White girl can pop and lock!
As you may have already read, there was a period in the late ’90s and early 2000s that I dubbed “The New Music Wasteland”. This was a period in which the music I listened to was no longer considered mainstream music. Radio stations changed formats, popular music took on a totally different shape, and I was left to wander aimlessly through the aftermath.
Now, I wasn’t living under a rock in those days. Even though I quit listening to the radio (All but sports talk. Who knew you could listen to people talk about the same three sports news items all day and not get bored?) I did see and hear what was happening in the world of pop music. It was The Clone Wars. Just like the Evil Empire, record companies took whatever crap was selling and copied it over and over. But unlike The Emperor who pumped out Stormtrooper after perfect Stormtrooper, (except maybe this one) the copies got shittier and shittier as they cranked them out. If we learned anything from the Michael Keaton movie Multiplicity, it was that a copy of a copy is always of lesser quality. Eventually, instead of a handsome movie star you end up with Sloth from Goonies. It happened in all genres of music but it was most notable in three basic forms.
Bellybutton Pop:
It all started with Britney Spears. Who didn’t feel for that young girl? Her loneliness was killing her! She pleaded for us to hit her “… Baby One More Time”. Next came Christina Aguilera with “Genie in a Bottle,” inappropriately asking us all for some release by “rubbing her the right way.” Soon any underage blonde that could hold a tune (Not even that important) had her tits propped up and her bellybutton out for perverts and little girls across the country. Check out these album covers from roughly the same 1-2 year period.
Blonde girl? Check.
Breasts in view? Check.
Bellybutton out? Check.
Lips slightly parted? Check.
Can she sing? Uhhh sort of.
Who cares! Let’s make a record!
Super Dreamy Boy Bands:
Now this trend has been around for a long time. The ’80s had their share of boy bands as New Edition, Menudo, and New Kids on the Block all had various levels of popularity. But in the late 90’s boy bands hit their peak. Groups like ‘N SYNC, 98 Degrees, and Backstreet Boys were all the rage, also to the delight of pervs and little girls everywhere. Don’t be fooled, there was a formula for it all. First, the poppy dance number to get our attention. Then, the slow emotional song to make us all fall in love. I know I couldn’t look into the eyes of any of these guys without them “Tearing Up My Heart”. Come on! Look at these press shots.
The fashion sense. The creepy facial hair. Are they good boys? Are they bad boys? Are they straight? Are they gay?
Who cares! Let’s make a record!
Shit Rock. Or The Horrible Never Ending Cavalcade of Shitty Post-Grunge Rock Bands:
They were usually either some awful Pearl Jam knock off, or some half rock, half rap 311 sounding crap. Judging by these band photos they all must have had the same publicist too.
For some reason it was very important for everyone to know the bands pecking order. Band members got lined up presumably by importance. Lead singer, Lead guitar, everyone else…
“Hey! You in back. Yeah, drummer guy. We’re still seeing too much of you.”
“Ok, no one smile and ….. perfect.”
But, are they any good?
Who cares! Let’s make a record!
Salvation finally came in the form of satellite and internet radio. But in the meantime I had to find alternate methods to satisfy my musical appetite. Naturally, I did what everyone does in times of trouble… look back on better days. Here are a few examples of some artists I rediscovered during this time. Maybe this could serve as a guide if you ever find yourself stuck in your own “New Music Wasteland”.
Pixies
Before there was grunge rock and Nirvana there was The Pixies. Kurt Cobain actually admitted that “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was a conscious attempt to copy the Pixies. He also said The Pixies’ Surfer Rosa was one of his main musical influences. I listened to all things Pixies for pretty much an entire year. This forced my wife to have to listen to all things Pixies. She didn’t mind too much until the Frank Black solo stuff came out. I think she began to feel like Manuel Noriega when the U.S. bombarded him with heavy metal music to get him to surrender. The Pixies were definitely ahead of their time and are worth a listen, but learn from my mistakes. There will be no “hunkering down” whilst the music of Doolittle is playing.
Springsteen
Every few years I see some retrospective or documentary about Bruce Springsteen and end up feeling like I should try to get into his music. I dive into his early work and then remember that I was not born in New Jersey nor am I the son of a coal miner. The music of “The Boss” just doesn’t speak to me like it does other people. Glowing review right? My ambivalence doesn’t mean it’s not work checking out though. There’s some good stuff there you just have to sift through the crap.
The most hilariously awkward moment in music video history
I ate fried chicken this weekend with my fellow MoSS? CEO before playing some cards and catching the new episode of Saturday Night Live. The poultry was not procured from Flav’s Chicken Shack. But I’m going to paraphrase Flavor Flav (and Perez Hilton, as it turns out) all the same: the weekend of Jan. 14-15 was one where the hype could not be believed, thanks to the wonders of live television.
Lana Del Rey—the girl whose first album came out two years ago under her real name, Lizzie Grant, with the title of Lana Del Rey, an album that was quickly pulled from iTunes—hyperventilated her way through her Internet hit tune, “Video Games,” on Saturday Night Live on the 14th. (It was a bad omen when Daniel Radcliffe flubbed the simple introduction.) She got behind on the first verse, threw in some nonsense ad-libs, and forced Todd to look for the silver lining in the performance for the next hour or so while I sat there in a world of disapppointment and our wives railed against the performance/discussed a comparison to Bette Midler (Todd’s and mine, respectively).
It was the tipping point in the delicate style-over-substance tightrope walk she’d been walking for months. I’ve been skeptical ever since seeing how Pitchfork chose to present photo coverage from a live event. And even more so after seeing the video for her forthcoming album’s title track, “Born to Die,” which features Lana “hunkering down” with some dude who could easily have “American Apparel model” on his résumé before he apparently kills her and sets his own car on fire (or something like that). The first time I heard “Video Games,” I found myself quite impressed; now I’m asking, “Can anyone possibly take her seriously for much longer?”
She did recently sign a modeling contract, which makes me think that this singing thing is like Michael Jordan playing minor league baseball for a bit. It was worth a shot and a lot of people paid attention to it. Eventually Jordan went back to doing what he did well (directing a ball through a circle); soon she’ll be doing what she does with ease (looking good).
I suppose that’s one big reason her career hyperdrive was engaged, because, damn, she’s easy on the eyes. But she’s apparently very conscious of every last eye that falls on her, because she looked extremely uncomfortable up there. And my hyperventilation comment is not some bit of hyperbole; it truly looked like she was gassed by the second verse of “Video Games.” But before anyone should feel sorry for Lizzie, it would seem her looks are a big part of what Lana and her team use to gain attention. Meanwhile, fellow Internet sensation Abel Tesfaye (a.k.a. The Weeknd) released three mixtapes in a calendar year, all to at least modest acclaim (the first to very favorable reviews), but for the longest time people didn’t even know the dude’s identity, much less what he looked like. People were left with nothing but the music: nearly 30 songs full of smart sampling, inspired vocals, and lyrics that painted the clearest picture of a hazy party world.
I’ll probably give Born to Die a listen once it hits Spotify, but with 1/100th of the enthusiasm I had last summer. Somewhere I believe the band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (remember those guys, blogosphere?) is nodding solemnly about the situation Ms. Grant/Del Rey finds herself.
Lana wasn’t alone in her live TV misery this weekend, and unless she went out and role-played that “Born to Die” video after SNL, she probably is the least sore of this group of fallen stars:
Tim Tebow. He completed three passes in the first half of the Broncos game against the Patriots. Counterpart (devil!) Tom Brady completed five passes for touchdowns in the same amount of time. The Patriots outrushed the Broncos, thanks in part to New England TIGHT END Aaron Hernandez rushing for 61 yards, and tacked on nearly 400 yards of passing. The other New England tight end (the one who takes photos with porn stars) caught three touchdowns from Tom Terrific. Tebow ran for a paltry 13 yards and was limited to 136 yards passing. Everyone who made such a big fucking deal about Tebow throwing for 316 yards last week (as in John 3:16!!!!) should note that the Evil Lord Belichick simply rearranged those numbers, causing Tebow to have a below-average game of 136 yards. (And if my Bible study recollection is accurate, the Book of Belichick, Chapter 1, Verse 36 reads “Whilst one’s abstinence can be commended, my quarterback fucks the lady Gisele, and still the gods allow him to accurately throw an eight-yard hook and complete a 12-yard out route at will.”) In this battle of good versus evil, the hoodied reaper reopened a book of revelations about Tebow: he actually really pretty much sucks. Not as a person, but as a quarterback in the National Football League.
The New Orleans Saints. It’s so cute how they let that little boy stand in the middle of the Saints huddle, with real shoulder pads and jersey on, and lead the pregame chants! Look at him bouncing around with the players, so full of energy, so spunky, so…oh, wait, that’s Drew Brees. The NFL’s new passing yardage champ’s enthusiasm couldn’t conquer the road playoff curse of the Saints, even though the 49ers defense did its best to give the game away down the stretch. Yet the Saints allowed the game-winning TD with 9 seconds to go, giving San Fran another “The Catch” moment (I guess) and the Brothers Harbaugh hope for a Super Bowl showdown on Feb. 5. The NFC Harbaugh might hold up his end of the bargain, as the Niners will host the NFC title game, all thanks to…
The Fucking Green Fucking Bay Fucking Packers. My favorite team won 15 games this year, against only two losses. How great for those players! Except that one of those losses came in the single-elimination fun known as the PLAYOFFS! (And the other was against the Chiefs, which is almost as bad, really.) Dropped passes (nothing new, really) were coupled with a string of fumbles (even cult hero John Kuhn had his first career fumble) and the failure to defend a halftime Hail Mary touchdown pass. And the inability to tackle. Or cover receivers on third and long. Or convert fourth down. Or resist the urge to try an onside kick after tying the game at 10. Or whatever the fuck else. Aaron Rodgers was off the mark too, although his running kept the Pack alive for much of the game.
I’m convinced this is State Farm’s fault. Fucking commercials (which I found funny until Sunday evening).
Watching Green Bay suck it up against the Giants pretty much looked like this:
This guy got a Tosh.0 Web Redemption out of his shame. Maybe we’ll see Lana Del Rey on there soon.
This photo might as well adorn the back of a milk carton.
NEWMARKET, Ontario—The Canadian band Glass Tiger’s worst fears have become a reality: despite pleading for fans to not forget the five musicians when they’re gone, most people do not recall the band’s existence.
The average music fan was unable to identify the band by name when played a snippet of “Don’t Forget Me (When I’m Gone),” even though Glass Tiger topped the charts with that song, and collected a grand total of five Juno Awards (whatever those might be) in the mid-1980s.
“Um, um, Bryan Adams!” guessed Susie Brinks, 36, who was wearing a Corey Hart “World Tour ’87″ t-shirt at the time of the on-the-street interview. “I’d never forget that. I had a huge crush on him…and Howard Jones, if you want full disclosure.”
Although Adams did sing backup vocals on “Don’t Forget Me,” it seems fair to say that Brinks had indeed forgotten Glass Tiger, as she confessed when the answer was revealed.
“Who?” she asked.
In other results:
42-year-old Jake Rima thought the tune was sung by White Lion, which delivered winning tunes such as “Wait” and “When the Children Cry” during the late 1980s. “At least I was in the same realm of the animal kingdom,” Rima said.
Jenny Timcook, 34, said that as a young girl, she and the neighborhood kids would give “air band” performances of this song and others such as the Bangles’ “Walk Like an Egyptian” and Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know?” When pressed for the band who sang the song, Timcook replied, “As far as I’m concerned, that song will always belong to ‘Jenny and the Leg Warmers.’”
Stephen Kimm, 33, punched the interviewer in the face and was charged with simple assault.
Members of Glass Tiger were to be contacted for comment, but Music or Space Shuttle? reporters forgot to call them.
And in a related story, Brit-rockers The Outfield have lost your love. This does appear to be an accidental occurrence; in the past, the band repeatedly stated they did not want to lose your love (tonight, to be more specific). Insiders believe the loss may have coincided with the return of Josie, who had been vacationing far away.
Here at Music or Space Shuttle? we feel like we should be asking the tough, hard-hitting questions. This week we continue our series of polls where we force you, the thoughtful reader, to choose between two random artists. You may not always like either selection but you have to pick one. (None of that “I’d rather puncture my eardrums with a grapefruit spoon” third option crap.)
With the public insults flying, this week seems like a perfect time to pit The Black Keys against Nickelback. In this months Rolling Stone, the Black Keys drummer had this quote about the current state of rock…
“Rock & roll is dying because people became OK with Nickelback being the biggest band in the world,” says drummer Patrick Carney. “So they became OK with the idea that the biggest rock band in the world is always going to be shit – therefore you should never try to be the biggest rock band in the world. Fuck that! Rock & roll is the music I feel the most passionately about, and I don’t like to see it fucking ruined and spoon-fed down our throats in this watered-down, post-grunge crap, horrendous shit. When people start lumping us into that kind of shit, it’s like, ‘Fuck you,’ honestly.”
Ouch!
Nickelback came back with an even more scathing response…
“Thanks to the drummer in the Black Keys calling us the Biggest Band in the World in Rolling Stone. Hehe.”
Easy Nickelback! Lets not get personal here.
So lets vote!
Rock out to “Lonely Boy” and “Your Touch” all day everyday? Or crank up “How You Remind Me” and “Rockstar” for the rest of your days? Vote below and please feel free to justify your selection in the comments section.
Oh, and we are dead even on our last poll so check that one out and vote if you haven’t. Imagine the rush of power you will feel if you are the one to break the tie.
In the 90’s if you lived in the center of the country like me, it wasn’t always easy to find cool new music. Basically, I would go to the record store and hope to stumble across something good. Sometimes, when I could tune the station in, I could catch a radio show that was on from 10PM to 2AM on Sunday nights. It was called Off the Beaten Path and was hosted by chick DJ extraordinaire Mary of the Heartland. (I heard Smashing pumpkins Gish for the 1st time on her show. Thank you Mary) So, I was stuck in a sort of “New Music Black Out”.
That was until, for a glorious 3-4 year period in the mid 90’s, the music that I listened to stood up front and center. So called “Alterative Music” became so popular that there were actually radio stations playing alt music exclusively. This was a great time for me because I didn’t even have to try to find new music. It was thrust upon me. Back then it was normal to hear The Cure, Beck, The Jesus and Mary Chain and Jeff Buckley in the same block of music. That’s right! On the radio! Like my youth and my beautiful head of hair, I thought this era in music would go on forever. But as they say, “all good things come to an end”. And boy were “they” right. I should have seen it coming. There were signs that the end was near. I just chose to ignore them.
Sign #1. I’m King of the World! I was listening to a great alt station in Ames, Iowa. They had just wrapped up playing a Foo Fighters song and immediately ran into that iceberg of a song from Titanic. My heart briefly stopped as “My Heart Will Go On” played over the stereo. Right there I should have grabbed onto anything that would float because this alt rock ship was sinking fast.
Sign #2. Lilith Fair and The Bare Naked Ladies. I was living in the Twin Cities area and found a great alt radio station. After enjoying a Ben Folds 5 song they announced that they have a new “house band”, The Bare Naked Ladies. They then announced that they were helping to sponsor a little estrogen fueled music fest called Lilith Fair. From then on you couldn’t go 20 minutes without hearing “Chickity China, a Chinese Chicken” or that song from Dawson’s Creek. Yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to turn off the radio. I was still clinging on. Hoping things could go back. That is until…
Sign #3. Mandatory Metallica. When I moved back to Iowa the local alt channel had a gimmick called “Mandatory Metallica”. They had to play at least one song by Metallica once an hour. (Why? My theory was Lars had the DJs strung up by their balls above a pool of sharks. If they didn’t play a Metallica song once an hour they were slowly lowered into it) I never really disliked Metallica but this mandate was a bit much. Try sitting through the “Mandatory Metallica” and “2 for 2sday” combo then see where your sanity lies. So this is where I flipped the radio off.
For a few years I wondered aimlessly through the aftermath of what I called “The New Music Wasteland”. Eventually technology rescued me with the invention of satellite and internet radio. But in the meantime I had to find alternate methods to satisfy my musical appetite. So, I did what everyone does in times of trouble… look back at a better time. Here are a few examples of some artists I rediscovered during this time. Maybe this could serve as a guide if you ever find yourself stuck in your own “New Music Wasteland”.
Prince
Most of my friends are aware that for quite a long time my Prince listening habits bordered on compulsive. Not just Prince’s solo music either. All things Prince and Prince related. The Time, The Family, NPG, Martika, The Modernaires were all on heavy rotation. I always thought it was weird when guys would say “Prince? That dude’s gay”. He was linked to a different hot girl every week, his best songs were very sexual in nature, and his lyrics are clearly written from a hetero point of view. I recently ran across this picture.
Now I get the confusion. The outfit is so distractingly androgynous that you don’t even notice the scantily clad Kat and Sheila E standing beside him. So if you can get past the strange fashion do your musical homework on Prince. Anything from 1978-1995. Doesn’t matter, it’s all A plus material and there’s a lot of it. The Purple One released an album every fortnight back then. 1996-Present, don’t bother, pretty much crap.
Al Green
As soulful as it gets. This guy gets a lot of air time at my house in the fall and winter months. It is perfect for that time of year when it is either too cold or too wet to leave the house. Throw this album on when you want to stay in and hunker down with your significant other. Pssst… by hunker down I meant make “The Sex”.
The Beatles
Every music fan has gotten into the Beatles at some point along the way. I spent a lot of time in the “New Music Wasteland” re-listening to The Beatles catalog. My favorite Beatles song happens to be “Don’t Let Me Down” and it is on this record 1967-1970.
The reason I am showing it to you now is that I recently lost a wager involving that song. I bet a certain other pop culture blogger (Chris) who shall remain (Chris) nameless (A-hole) that “Don’t Let Me Down” was on the album Let It Be. The other nameless blogger claimed that it was never released on a major record but was instead the B side of “Get Back”. Now, I have heard that song a million times and was very confident in my knowledge that it was on one of my albums at home. So I brazenly offered up a recently purchased ticket to an M83 concert if I was wrong. Needless to say, bloggy blog man is getting a free ticket to M83. I had heard the song a million times but not on Let It Be. It was on this stupid fucking greatest hits record. Is there a moral here?
Know your Beatles Trivia? No, that’s not it.
Always be 100% sure before you bet? No, that’s not it.
While Todd is busy listening to a new song by the Wusses, er, the Shins, yours truly was rockin’ out with his cock out (well, not really, fortunately for my work colleagues) to “Tattoo,” the new ditty from VAN FUCKING HALEN. If you dare, click the video below…
Um…well, I never said it was great.
“Tattoo” (which makes the bold move of including the word “dragon” within its chorus) is a bit benign. The video is sorta odd and boring at once. Odd because at times the vocals don’t sync with Diamond Dave’s mouth movements. Odd because Wolfgang is holding Michael Anthony’s place as the stocky guy on bass, but without the solid backing vocals. Odd because DLR dances around like he’s trapped in an old Jamiroquai video. And boring because the song just doesn’t blister like VH did during the heyday.
All the same, if Van Halen is going to try some new tunes with three classic members, it might as well be Dave, Eddie, and Alex (and the latter’s thousands of cymbals). Dave might not be able to bring the vocals like he used to, but his singing was never the main asset; being a frontman is in his DNA, and he still has charisma. And if nothing else, this new song brought back some fond memories that involve the Halen.
In no particular order, my favorite Van Halen moments from my life:
Finding a casette of 1984 and keeping it. Someone at St. Patrick’s Grade School must have dropped it on the playground. I spotted the white plastic rectangle, approached it hoping it was something like “People Are People” by Depeche Mode, saw it was that album with “Panama” (the greatest American rock song EVER), surveyed the area for any nosy nuns, and stuck the tape in my Super Denim pocket. (And I never said anything about it at confession. Ha!) And it was on. Phrases such as “I don’t feel tardy” and “Got an on-ramp going through my bedroom” entered that vast wasteland in my brain reserved for AWESOME SONG LYRICS. I played air guitar (behind my head, no less!) in my bedroom while “House of Pain” flew out of my JCPenney stereo speakers. I flaunted the air drums during the “Hot for Teacher” intro and the “Girl Gone Bad” outro. But even then I was a bit of a hipster snob: I never thought “Jump” was that great of a song.
A Microsoft Paint rendering of what The Cool Guys' Club sign looked like in 1986.
Painting the VH logo on our neighborhood clubhouse sign. A few “toughs” residing in northeast Waukon banded together to form a neighborhood gang called, fittingly, “The Cool Guys’ Club.” This was done without irony—it was 1986 and the gang’s members ranged in age of 8 to 12. We had a “clubhouse,” which was actually random planks of wood nailed haphazardly across some low-hanging tree branches. And we nailed a sign to the tree. The sign announced our group’s moniker. The word “The” started in the upper-left corner, and each word descended gradually toward the lower-right, where “Club” landed. I thought the sign was cool, but not cool enough. So I painted the legendary “VH” logo in the upper-right corner. Within days the sign was vandalized and The Cool Guys’ Club’s mojo never really returned. But for those 96 hours or whatever, it was the coolest thing going in the 200 block of Sixth Avenue NE.
Playing air guitar to the intro of “Panama” while driving, annoying the Brothers Schneden. On the way home from visiting Platteville, Wis., to see the Chicago Bears work out at training camp, my friends Travis and Corey Schneden and I listened to one of my infamous “This CD-R Sucks!” mixes. “Panama” was one of the standout tracks on Volume Three. The best part about air guitaring this song? The part where Eddie slides his fingers across the fretboard after the initial few notes, because you can extend that slide right out the driver’s side window if you’re REALLY into it. Which I was, although the Schnedens were not, based on their eye rolls and utterances of “God, you’re dumb.” They were not in The Cool Guys’ Club.
Joining BMG and getting the eponymous debut album as one of my introductory cassettes. Arriving along with stuff like Vixen’s self-titled debut and Bon Jovi’s New Jersey was this awesome collections of tunes, highlighted by “Atomic Punk,” “Ain’t Talkin’ Bout Love,” and “I’m the One,” songs I like quite a bit today, truth be told. (The same can’t be said about Vixen or Bon Jovi.) And the aforementioned Brothers Schneden and I would endless annoy their sister Jami by singing the song “Jamie’s Cryin'” to the point where she wanted to settle things with fisticuffs. The tale of the tape showed that I had all the advantages (age, height, weight, reach) but I knew I was deficient in the intangibles (the blind rage of someone teased mercilessly by her older brothers and their even older friend) so I gave it a rest and probably went back to playing Travis (a.k.a. “The Beast”) in some Nintendo game.
Blaring the opening of “Good Enough” (HELLO, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABY! [guitar screech]) on my boom box. Always a crowd pleaser when you and your friends are 12.
Realizing the acronym of For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. Huh-huh! Huh-huh! (And feeling good about the decision made at OU812 not to buy any more new material by the band.)
And most recently, seeing Episode 9 of the show Yacht Rock. The story of how Doobies producer Ted Templeman decided to produce Van Halen albums. What they did with the doo-wop breakdown of “I’m the One” and the incorporation of Kenny Loggins’ keys are priceless comedy ingredients. (Big ups to Timothy Davis for bringing this to my attention.) Watch the episode below (you could skip to the 0:38 mark and not miss anything).
I’ve lived a good life, no? Thanks for random moments of joy, Dave, Eddie, Alex, and that other guy…and even Sammy.
I give The Shins the majority of the credit for waking me from my post 90’s musical slumber and putting me back on the road to musical enlightenment. Oh, Inverted World and Chutes Too Narrow basically owned my car stereo from ’01 to ’03 (Until I discovered The Flaming Lips Yoshimi record). The Shins last album Wincing the Night Away was released nearly 5 years ago and was a bit of a letdown for me. So, with rumors of break-ups and front-man James Mercer busy with side project Broken Bells, I had pretty much moved on. Until today that is. The Shins are back with a new track “Simple Song”. They have a revamped lineup and an upcoming new release Port of Morrow due out in March. I was a bit apprehensive of the new song at first, but have found that I can’t stop listening to it. 15 plays and counting today alone. I just hope the rest of the album is this good. Listen to “Simple Song” for yourself and tell us what you think.
Ahh…the movie montage. It is the perfect way to show a lot of action in a short period of time. This was a very popular movie making technique in the 80’s. There were many different versions, but this time around I’m going to focus on “The Dance Training Montage”.
Music or Space Shuttle? 