As we say in this neck of the desert, life is something something...
I once told an Israeli friend of mine who relocated to the US about some of the Jewish traditions that I grew up with, and he later admitted to me that there was one he hadn't quite believed, until he saw it for himself.
So, what will you be eating on Christmas Day?
I must admit that I'm not too keen on the idea of growing older (though it is, quite obviously, better than the alternative), and I definitely agree with the old saying that "youth is wasted on the young". Sometimes, I just want to be forever young…
Forever Young
Alphaville
Let's dance in style, let's dance for a while
Heaven can wait we're only watching the skies
Hoping for the best but expecting the worst
Are you gonna drop the bomb or not?
Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The music's for the sad man
Can you imagine when this race is won
Turn our golden faces into the sun
Praising our leaders we're getting in tune
The music's played by the, the madman
Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Forever, or never
Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Forever young
Some are like water, some are like the heat
Some are a melody and some are the beat
Sooner or later they all will be gone
Why don't they stay young?
It's so hard to get old without a cause
I don't want to perish like a fading horse
Youth like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever
So many adventures couldn't happen today
So many songs we forgot to play
So many dreams are swinging out of the blue
We let 'em come true
Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Forever, or never
Forever young, I want to be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Forever, or never
Forever young, I wanna be forever young
Do you really want to live forever?
Boys, consider yourselves warned. This week’s entry is for the girls…
Ok, ladies, please raise your hands if you didn’t fantasize about replacing Jennifer Grey in the movie Dirty Dancing, especially during those scenes when Patrick Swayze was teaching her how to dance. Just as I expected. I don’t see any hands raised. Not a one. Well, obviously. We all wanted to be the one who “carried a watermelon”. We all wanted Patrick Swayze to teach us that leap in the water. Admittedly, I don’t know anyone who actually wanted to be called “Baby”, though I do have one friend “attended Mount Holyoke in the fall”, after the movie was released.
I loved this movie, not only for the obvious bits mentioned above, but also because I was a child of the Catskills, where the movie took place (though it was actually filmed in North Carolina and Virginia). While we didn’t go there for summers, a lifetime of Passovers was spent at various hotels in the area, and aside from the fact that the wait-staff that had once been comprised of smiling, young college kids was now mostly comprised of native Spanish and Portuguese speakers from Latin America, our experiences there could have come straight from the script of Dirty Dancing, from the plethora of activities (I still have half a backscratcher from the Fallsview, which I won playing Bingo), to the evening shows, to the copious amounts of food served at every meal. The schedule of activities was printed up on a daily basis and available at the front desk, and we would pore over it every morning, seeking out the activities that caught our fancy (miniature golf competitions with prizes), groaning when they conflicted other desirable activities (trivia contests for prizes). There were dance lessons, fashion shows, and endless rounds of Simon Says (more often than not led by the gentlemen described in this article). There was the arcade (“can I have more quarters, Grandma/Grampa/Mom/Dad?”), the swimming pool and the ice skating rink, and one hotel even had a bowling alley. We were busy from the moment we woke in the morning until we fell into bed at night, which was probably a good thing, given how much food we were packing in at each meal.
When my mother, in her youth, would go away to the Catskills with her entire extended family, they were encouraged to fraternize with the aforementioned wait-staff, who were, as I mentioned, young college kids, and most of them, I believe, were Jewish (as were many of the guests). Friendly relationships were welcomed, and waiters and daughters were introduced. By the time we were going to the Catskills, the situation had changed. You’d have been hard-pressed to find a young, Jewish college student among them, and it wasn’t much easier to find a native English speaker. Relationships were no longer encouraged, but me being me, I was fascinated by the young, shy Spanish speakers, and while I carried no watermelons and went to no parties, I did manage to make a few friends along the way.
Between my mother’s stories and my own annual pilgrimages, I truly felt that the Catskill experience was my own, and needless to say, Dirty Dancing resonated with me in a way that other movies did not. Whenever I see it, old, long-forgotten memories are dredged up, exciting, childhood memories from a more innocent time.
And of course, those dance scenes were really hot… Check out the dance sequences threaded into Eric Carmen’s video for “Hungry Eyes”, and you’ll see what I mean.
Hungry Eyes
Eric Carmen
I've been meaning to tell you
I've got this feelin' that won't subside
I look at you and I fantasize
You are mine tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and I
I want to hold you so hear me out
I want to show you what love's all about
Darlin' tonight
Now I've got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you
And I've got hungry eyes
Now I've got you in my sights
With these hungry eyes
Now did I take you by surprise
I need you to see
This love was meant to be
I've got hungry eyes
One look at you and I can't disguise
I've got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you
And I've got hungry eyes
Now I've got you in my sights
With those hungry eyes
Did I take you by surprise
With my hungry eyes
What do you get when you combine a restaurant-owner from Happy Days with a young cousin from Eight is Enough? If you guessed three Karate Kid movies, you'd be spot on. In one of the most successful movie series of the 80s, we were repeatedly brought back to the theaters to watch Pat Morita, who played Arnold on Happy Days, and Ralph Macchio, who played cousin Jeremy during the later years on Eight is Enough, as they showed us again and again that goodness always triumphs in the end (though not without quite a bit of sap along the way). Apparently, there was also a fourth Karate Kid flick made in the early nineties, which helped to launch the career of Hilary Swank, but given that I only discovered this earlier today, I confess that I never had the distinct pleasure of watching yet another Karate Kid film.
As a big fan of both television shows (they just don't make shows like they used to!), I was more than happy to witness the repeated pairing of this duo, and was saddened to hear of Morita's passing back in 2005. Macchio, of course, is still the guy who never really looks any older, despite the fact that he's 46 years old!
As I mentioned, there were three Karate Kid films that came out in the 80s. If I had to pick a favorite, it would have to be Karate Kid II, which came out in 1986. I saw it during the summer, while working as a staff babysitter at my old summer camp, though for the life of me, I can't fathom where there might have been a cinema close to Barryville, NY, which is where the camp was located. But I digress. I suppose I liked KK II the best because of the fact that it was set in Japan (despite being filmed on the Hawaiian island of Oahu), and I enjoyed learning bits about Japanese culture.
As much as I enjoyed the movie though, what really swayed me was the theme song. I'd always been a big fan of the band Chicago, and continued to enjoy the music of Peter Cetera even after he left the group and went solo. And of course, being the typical angst-ridden teenager who was always looking for that knight in shining armor, this song, not to mention the scenes shown while it was being played in the movie, struck a chord with me.
Glory of Love
Peter Cetera
As a seriously angst-ridden teenager, I spent a great deal of time dwelling on my feelings and thinking about my relationships with others. This manifested itself in a variety of ways – I can remember spending hours in the greeting card aisle at the local pharmacy, browsing through all the Susan Polis Schutz cards, looking for sentiments that matched my own, or, if I had time, turning the pages of her books in the hopes of finding the words that expressed how I was feeling. Like most of my peers, my moods were all over the place, and if that weren't enough, I probably spent far too much time thinking that not only did no one really seem to notice me, but that they also probably wouldn't notice if I wasn't around (not that I was suicidal, because I wasn't, but thinking in more abstract terms of simply not being there). I even wrote poems about it, poems that I'm assuming (and hoping) no longer exist.
And of course, when I wasn't searching for the meaning of life in Susan Polis Schutz paraphernalia, I would listen to music and try to ascertain whether or not the lyrics could be applied to my own life in some context. I would analyze the words, marveling at the fact that these artists were writing what I was feeling. I would listen to the late night dedication shows, thinking about the songs that I would dedicate and to whom. When I was down, I would make sure to listen to music that best conveyed my emotions of the moment, whether they were of the "nobody understands me" variety or the "why doesn't this person notice me" genre.
While I no longer peruse greeting cards, to this day, I still relate song lyrics to whatever happens to going on in my life. I have sent songs to friends simply because the songs reminded me of these specific individuals for any one of a multitude of reasons (such as the song "Thank You" by South African artist Lionel Bastos, which always reminds me of my pal NRG), and have even been known to pick up the phone to call someone because a song I was listening to made me think of them. There are songs that I can't listen to because the images they conjure up are too difficult to bear, such as Eric Clapton's "Tears in Heaven", which he wrote after losing his young son and hits far too close for home, or songs that automatically take me back to certain periods or events in my life, both good and bad (such as the Eurythmics' "I Saved the World Today").
Lately, more often than not, I've been feeling mellow and out of sorts, as you may have guessed. And me being me, I'm trying to figure out which song from the 80s best suits my current mood. After careful deliberation, I've decided to go with a song by one of the best (in my opinion, anyway) groups of the era - Asia. The song is "The Smile Has Left Your Eyes", which was released as one of the songs on the album "Alpha" in 1983.
The Smile Has Left Your Eyes
Asia
I saw you standing hand in hand
And now you come to me the solitary man
And I know what it is that made us live
Such ordinary lives
The where to go the who to see
No one could sympathize
The Smile Has Left Your Eyes
The Smile Has Left Your Eyes
And I've become a rolling stone
I don't know where to go or what to call my own
But I can see that black horizon glooming
ever close to view
It's over now it's not my fault
See how this feels for you
The Smile Has Left Your Eyes
The Smile Has Left Your Eyes
But I never thought I'd see you
Standing there with him
So don't come crawling back to me
Now it's too late you realized
Now there's no one can sympathize
Now that the Smile Has Left Your Eyes
Now it's too late you realized
Now there's no one can sympathize
Now it's too late you realized
Now that the Smile Has Left Your Eyes
While in Israel during the winter of 1991, two friends and I decided to go to Cairo. Once we'd gotten all of the required bureaucracy out of the way, the trip involved a very long, tedious bus ride from Tel Aviv, through the Rafah crossing (more about that later, but keep in mind that the crossing was administered at the time by Israel and Egypt, prior to the establishment of the Palestinian National Authority...), across the Suez Canal, past the charming seaside town of El Arish, and endless hours across the stark, barren desert.
Cairo was fascinating, and I wouldn't be exaggerating if I added that it was a serious assault to all of my senses. The sites, the sounds, the smells... The city is crowded and lively, and the people we encountered were friendly. The Egyptians who thought that I was Israeli (on account of my winter jacket at the time being like the ones worn in the Israeli military) often greeted me in broken Hebrew with a smile. The pyramids were stunning, and the Egyptian Museum and the Museum of Islamic Art were exceptional. I even managed to teach myself how to read and write Arabic numerals while at the Egyptian Museum, and if hard-pressed, I might even remember a few of them...
As I recall, Egyptian drivers were worse than Israeli drivers, and for those of you who have encountered Israeli drivers, you can imagine what the streets of Cairo must be like for drivers and pedestrians alike – especially pedestrians like me, who tend to act like a deer caught in the headlights while crossing the road as cars bear down on them, whizzing past and making one feel as though they were trapped in a real-life version of the game Frogger. Buses barely stopped at the designated stations, slowing down just enough for more people to jump on, often hanging out of doors and windows, crammed in like sardines and hanging on for dear life as the driver made his way through the streets, clearly imagining that he was traveling along the German Autobahn instead of the traffic-infested roads of Cairo.
Driving across the Egyptian desert after dark was often nerve-wracking, as it seemed to me that vehicles would drive using either high beams or no lights at all. At one point, you feel like your bus (or car) was the only one on the road, an illusion that was frequently shattered in an instant when you were suddenly blinded by the high beams of an oncoming vehicle whose driver had clearly opted to use only the slivers of moonlight to find his way.
And then there was the border crossing. I had difficulties in both directions, and my passport was always the last one from our bus to come out (once, the person responsible for our group even had to go into the offices to retrieve it). This was prior to obtaining Israeli citizenship or being in possession of an Israeli passport, and while traveling on my American passport (the only passport I had at the time) the folks at passport control were convinced that I was trying to hide the fact that I was Israeli, despite my protestations that I was American. For some reason, they had gotten it into the heads that I must be Israeli, because my last name is "Rosenberg", which was, according to them, a very Israeli name. I did my best to convince them that it was also a very Jewish name, and in the end, I prevailed, but it was frustrating nonetheless, as I could see that they weren't terribly keen on the idea of believing me.
While I enjoyed my trip to Cairo, to be honest, I'm not sure that I'd want to go back. It was a huge, crowded, congested, dirty city, and frankly, one that I am too timid to take on. I have a feeling that as far as Arab capital cities go, Amman or Beirut would be much more to my tastes. Of course, missing my trip to Cairo would have meant that I'd never have discovered that, when it comes down to it, the Cairenes perambulate just like everybody else. In other words, I didn't come away from my visit knowing how to walk like an Egyptian...
Walk Like an Egyptian
The Bangles
All the old paintings on the tomb
They do the sand dance, don'cha know?
If they move too quick (Oh-Way-Oh)
They're falling down like a domino
And the bazaar man by the Nile
He got the money on a bet
For the crocodiles (Oh-Way-Oh)
They snap their teeth on a cigarette
Foreign types with their hookah pipes sing:
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo...
Walk like an Egyptian.
The blonde waitresses take their trays
Spin around and they cross the floor
They've got the moves (Oh-Way-Oh)
You drop your drink then they bring you more
All the school kids so sick of books
They like the punk and the metal band
When the buzzer rings (Oh-Way-Oh)
They're walking like an Egyptian
All the kids in the marketplace say:
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo...
Walk like an Egyptian.
Line your feet astreet, bend your back,
Shift your arm, then you pull a clock
Like Sergeant O (Oh-Way-Oh)
So strike a pose on a Cadillac
If you want to find all the cops,
They're hanging out in the donut shop.
They sing and dance (Oh-Way-Oh)
They spin their clock and cruise on down the block
All the Japanese with their Yen
The party boys call the Kremlin
The Chinese know (Oh-Way-Oh)
They walk along like Egyptians
All the cops in the donut shops say:
Way-oh-way-oh-way-ooo-aaa-ooo...
Walk like an Egyptian
Walk like an Egyptian
In the grand scheme of things, I've come to the conclusion that I'm a bit weird when it comes to remembering inane bits of trivia and assorted episodes from my past. I remember people much better than they remember me, and it can be rather alarming when I can spew the most minute, trivial details about past encounters when the person in question doesn't even remember my name. I've got a collection of birthdays filed away, mostly for friends whom I haven't spoken to in years, and I can remember my login name for my very first computer account (back in elementary school, when we used small black-and-white televisions as monitors and connected to the local network by dialing a certain telephone number and placing the receiver in a specially-designed piece of equipment).
I can remember plots from random episodes of 70s television shows, not to mention the names of actors and actress from various shows. In college, no one was more surprised than my roommate S when I was able to quickly name the actress/singer who played the role of Leather Tuscadero on Happy Days, and quite frankly, I'm not surprised that I actually remember how the subject came up. My friend C shares my appreciation for entertainment trivia, and our emails often incorporate these useless tidbits of knowledge to evoke memories and provoke raucous laughter on a regular basis (though chances are, no one else will get the joke but us...).
I'm also good at remembering numbers, whether it be dates, addresses, telephone numbers (a skill that's deteriorated with the advent of the cellular phone, of course), and so on. I can still remember my grandmother's phone number in Brooklyn, though the number hasn't been in service since 1984 or so, and I remember the phone numbers of some of my old neighbors in the town where I grew up. I can reel off my aunt and uncle's home address and phone number as necessary. Like many of my peers, I've memorized the mailing address for Zoom (that's 350, Boston, Mass, 02134), but I'm not sure that I can recite it without actually singing it as the Zoom kids did. I can also still do Bernadette's butterfly – can you?
Of course, for those of us who grew up in the 80s, there's one telephone number that none of us are ever likely to forget, belonging to a certain young lady named Jenny. Thanks to Tommy Tutone, an overwhelming number of telephone calls were made to increasingly frustrated individuals in a variety of area codes whose greatest misfortune was to have the phone number 867-5309.
867-5309/Jenny
Tommy Tutone
Jenny Jenny who can I turn to
you give me something I can hold on to
now you think I'm like the others before
who saw you name and number on the wall
Jenny I got your number
I need to make you mine
Jenny don't change your number
867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
Jenny Jenny your the girl for me
you don't know me, but you make me so happy
I tried to call you before but I lost the nerve
I tried my imagination but I was disturbed
Jenny I got your number
I need to make you mine
Jenny don't change your number
867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
I got it, I got it, I got your number on the wall
I got it, I got it, for a good time, for a good time call
Jenny don't change your number
I need to make you mine
Jenny I got your number
867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
Jenny Jenny who can I turn to (867-5309)
for the price of a dime I can always turn to you
One day last week I had the distinct pleasure of having lunch with Benji at a small resto near my office. Over humus and salad, we discussed a variety of subjects – work, living in Israel, bloggers and blogging, writing, and so on. One of the main topics of conversation, however, was summer camp. Benji recently returned to Israel after spending his summer working at our old summer camp, and I was anxious to hear all about it. Benji was more than happy to share, and regaled me with story after story about our old stomping grounds.
I loved hearing about the activities being done these days, how things have changed, etc. Many of my fondest memories were created during my summers spent there, and to this day, random interactions, sites and smells can trigger flashbacks (the smell of wooden planks on a hot summer day reminds me of the smell of camp cabins). Seeing Benji opened a floodgate of old memories, and given that he shares my love of 80s music, I find myself remembering songs that were popular in camp. My mind drifts back to the annual talent show, and I can recall with incredibly clarity a group of my bunkmates preparing their song and dance routine. I can remember the cool arm twists, the bit where they jumped around, turning from back to front in order to face the audience. The song they chose was Deniece Williams' "Let's Hear it for the Boy", from everyone's favorite movie of 1984 – Footloose.
While I couldn't find an actual video of the original song, what you're going to see below is a clip of Williams singing the song on Solid Gold, a show that probably deserves its very own blog entry...
Let's Hear it for the Boy
Deniece Williams
My baby he don't talk sweet
He ain't got much to say
But he loves me, loves me, loves me
I know that he loves me anyway
And maybe he don't dress fine
But I don't really mind
'Cuz every time he pulls me near
I just wanna cheer
Let's hear it for the boy!
Oh, let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby
You gotta understand
Maybe he's no Romeo
But he's my loving one-man show
Let's hear it for the boy!
My baby may not be rich
He's watching every dime
But every night he holds me
And we always have a real good time
And maybe he sings off-key
That's alright by me
But what he does he does so well
Makes me wanna yell
Let's hear it for the boy!
Oh, let's give the boy a hand
Let's hear it for my baby
You gotta understand
Maybe he's no Romeo
But he's my loving one-man show
Let's hear it for the boy!
A constant source of interest among bloggers is visitor statistics. We like to know who are readers are, where they're from, and how they found us. In my case, many of my visitors find me while performing a Google search for one term or another. Sometimes the search terms are unusual (I had a hit for "underwear parade" earlier today), and many border on lewd or even outright perverse in nature. Many people want to know more about potty training, especially as it pertains to little boys. It would also seem that many people are making travel plans to Amsterdam, as I frequently receive visitors searching for touring suggestions in this fabulous city. I get a lot of hits from people looking for information on pregnancy and fertility-related subjects (and interestingly enough, the overwhelming majority of these hits originate in India, which leads me to wonder about the availability of pregnancy-related literature in this vast, fascinating country), to the point where I've considered creating a page or blog entry that consists almost solely of helpful pregnancy and fertility links. I hope to get to this little project as soon as I have some free time on my hands (one of these years...).
If I had to pick the single topic that draws the greatest number of visitors, it would probably be music, and 80s music in particular. People are always searching for their favorite songs and artists, not to mention quirky bits of song and artist-related trivia (the terms "Nena hairy armpits" pop up more frequently than I'd have imagined...). I get a tremendous number of hits from people looking for songs using random song lyrics. Sometimes, the lyrics are spot on, and other times, I'm rather surprised that the correct song was actually found, given how far off the mark the person's guess was, in comparison to the actual lyrics. Occasionally, I just stare at the line of text, wondering how someone decided to search using those specific terms (such as the recent searches for the term "Diggy dang diggy diggy".
Of course, we all know how hard it can be to understand the lyrics of some songs, and can't help but smile once we discover what the actual lyrics are. I've gotten some doozies since I started, but none of them even come close to the one I discovered in my stats this morning. Back in May, I wrote an 80s Music Video Sunday entry featuring the song "I Melt with You", by Modern English, a rather catchy tune, and to be honest, I've never considered the lyrics to be all that unintelligible. Maybe I couldn't pick up every word, but I wouldn't have had any outrageous misunderstandings (and certainly none with any potentially anti-Semitic undertones...), which is why the water I was drinking almost shot out my nose when I noticed that someone had come across my blog by searching for "I'll stop the world and melt the jews".
Ummmm... Yeah... Exactly...
Somewhere in The Bronx right now, sits an individual who (I hope) is utterly astonished at having gotten this one so, so wrong.
Ever gone on a date with someone while your leg was in a cast? I have. As I've mentioned before, I managed to break my leg only several weeks after arriving in Israel at age 18. During the weeks prior to my little mishap, a few friends and I met a group of young men at a (long-defunct) pub in Jerusalem. One of my friends immediately hooked up with one of the young men (immediately being an exchange of phone numbers, of course, and not a quick round of tonsil hockey that very same evening), and thus began one of the more interesting adventures of that year.
The young men we met were Armenian, and lived in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City. They told us about life in the Quarter and they invited us to parties that took place within the walls of the Quarter's convent (the convent was essentially a complex, and many Armenians lived within its walls, resulting in creative entries and exits once the convent gates were locked each night). We snuck them into our dormitory's second-story common room (through the porch door) after the house mother refused them entrance into the building (because they weren't nice Jewish Israeli boys), and we even learned a few words of Armenian (which sadly escape me now).
It was at one of the aforementioned convent parties that I met Aram. He was the DJ, and I was a girl with a serious crush. I didn't see Aram again until after I'd broken my leg. We all went downtown as a group, and believe me when I say that it's no easy feat to get from one end of Jaffa Road to the other with a full-leg cast and crutches. Soon after that, Aram and I made plans to go to a movie, and arranged that he would pick me up at my dormitory. I was excited, and while there was some lingering concern because I didn't know him very well, I reasoned that the cast on my leg, combined with the fact that the car only had two doors, would act as a deterrent in keeping things from going farther than I was prepared to go.
Aram picked me up in his black BMW (as I recall...), presented me with a red rose (which I keep to this day in its dried form), and then we went to see a film at the long-gone Edison Theatre. The film was "Top Gun", and to this day, whenever I hear the song I've chosen for today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry, I'm immediately transported back to that evening, twenty-one years ago, a time when Tom Cruise was just a talented young actor, and not someone prone to making an utter fool of himself on national television repeatedly. The song is Berlin's "Take My Breath Away".
Take My Breath Away
Berlin
Watching every motion
In my foolish lover's game
On this endless ocean
Finally lovers know no shame
Turning and returning
To some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion
As you turn around and say
Take my breath away
Take my breath away
Watching I keep waiting
Still anticipating love
Never hesitating
To become the fated ones
Turning and returning
To some secret place to hide
Watching in slow motion
As you turn to me and say
Take my breath away
Take my breath away
Through the hourglass I saw you
In time you slipped away
When the mirror crashed I called you
And turned to hear you say
If only for today
I am unafraid
Take my breath away
Take my breath away
Watching every motion
In this foolish lover's game
Haunted by the notion
Somewhere there's a love in flames
Turning and returning
To some secret place inside
Watching in slow motion
As you turn my way and say
Take my breath away
Take my breath away
We took a lot of family vacations while my brother and I were growing up. Sometimes, these getaways were relatively close to home (such as the one at Golden Acres Farm and Ranch, where my parents received special permission for me to join the hotel day camp's boys group instead of the girls group because the boys did fun stuff like dodge ball while the girls group took nature walks to pick flowers, and I was too much of a tomboy to do girly stuff), but other trips took us to far-flung Caribbean islands like Curacao and Saint Martin. The best vacations of all though, were the Caribbean cruises we took as teenagers.
Cruises are the perfect family vacation, as you don't actually have to spend all your time with your family. My parents would wake us up as they were leaving for breakfast, and then we might spot them around the ship during the course of the day. The only meal we shared as a family was dinner, prior to which, we would all squeeze around each other in our miniscule cabin, lining up to use the tiny bathroom and fight over mirror space in order to get ready. After dinner, my brother and I would once again take leave of our parents and run off to find the friends we'd made, usually heading off to the ship's disco for the rest of the evening, and eventually wandering over to the midnight buffet.
While I certainly enjoyed the various ports of call we visited along the way, the best times were to be had on-board. While memories of the first cruise we took are sketchy, I still have fond memories of the second cruise – taken when I was 17. Our group of new friends included Mexicans, Canadians and Brits, as well as an assortment of Americans. Days on-board were spent together, as well as our one-day docking on the cruise line's private island. As I mentioned above, evenings were spent in the disco, where I did my best to catch the eye of one of our young British acquaintances. To this day, I still don't know whether or not I succeeded (I was far too innocent and naive, and needless to say, utterly clueless about things like sending signals and making passes), but David and I remained friends, and managed to keep in touch quite regularly for approximately ten years after that vacation took place, meeting up once in NYC and again in London – no small feat given that this was the pre-email era and my snail mailing skills were questionable at best. We kept in touch during my gap year in Israel (he had spent a year in Israel as well before we met), throughout my years in Boston and during my initial years back in Israel. We exchanged camp stories while I worked at a Jewish camp in NY and he worked at a Jewish camp in Michigan, and we exchanged Israel stories for the duration of our correspondence. The last time I heard from him (at some point after I got married, as I recall), he was very happily living and working in Sydney, Australia, and had married a woman of Dutch-Lebanese descent. Somewhere, I still have all the old letters he sent (as well as nearly all the letters that anyone has ever sent me, including some real winners from a certain friend who reads and comments on this blog quite regularly), and I can even still remember his parents' address in London (I have a bizarre memory for random tidbits of information and trivia).
For some reason, there's one song that I always associate with those nights in the ship's disco. It was probably played at least once every evening, and whenever I hear it, I'm transported back in time, back to that disco. Who'd have guessed that "Tarzan Boy", by one-hit wonder Baltimora would be the song to evoke these memories of good times with "vacation" friends? Certainly not me, but given that it was the 80s, I suppose anything is possible...
Tarzan Boy
Baltimora
Jungle life
I'm far away from nowhere
On my own like Tarzan Boy
Hide and seek
I play along while rushing cross the forest
Monkey business on a sunny afternoon
Jungle life
I'm living in the open
Native beat that carries on
Burning bright
A fire the blows the signal to the sky
I sit and wonder does the message get to you
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other
chance tonight
Gimme the other, gimme the other
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other world
Jungle life
You're far away from nothing
It's all right
You won't miss home
Take a chance
Leave everything behind you
Come and join me
Won't be sorry
It's easy to survive
Jungle life
We're living in the open
All alone like Tarzan Boy
Hide and seek
We play along while rushing cross the forest
Monkey business on a sunny afternoon
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other
Chance tonight
Oh Yeah
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other
Night to night
You won't play
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other
Chance tonight
Oh Yeah
Night to night
Night to night
Gimme the other, gimme the other
As you've probably guessed by now, my sense of humor is often rather quirky and off-beat. I appreciate intelligent, wry commentary, and would be lying if I didn't say that one of my favorite pastimes is exchanging clever, witty banter with friends online, either via email or using any one of my growing collection of chat applications. The writer in me enjoys using words this way, and I find myself drawn to people who can keep up the pace. Words are both magical and powerful, and there are few things that attract my attention more than people who know how to use them well, especially if the words make me laugh and think, and allow for an ongoing exchange in the same vein.
I've had (and continue to have) friendships and relationships that began as a result of my admiration for an individual's writing skills, though obviously, the relationships, as they grew, were not solely based on this one trait. When it comes to entertainment, I tend to prefer high-brow stand-up comedy. Low-brow, lewd, sex jokes do not impress me, nor does the gratuitous use of swearing, for despite the fact that I can and do curse like a truck driver under certain circumstances, if you look carefully through this blog, you will find very few such words among my entries. It's not my style, and it's not the way that I choose to communicate while writing. As in my friendships, I gravitate towards performers who make me think as well as laugh, and if they can intelligently incorporate current events into the act, then so much the better. And because I'm sure that you're dying to know, yes, I do have a favorite. While not a stand-up comedian in the traditional sense, this individual's talent for side-splittingly humorous commentary is unparalleled.
Given my addiction to passion for current events and politics, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I would gravitate towards the material of the incredibly talented Tom Lehrer. His songs are timeless, and I sometimes find it rather shocking that lyrics he wrote in the early 1960s are just as relevant today as when they were originally written. I can't decide if that says more about his uncanny understanding of popular culture or the sadly predictable state of the world. I think I wore out my copy of "That Was the Year That Was", a live album released in 1965, and favorite tunes include "National Brotherhood Week" (a toe-tapping ditty about race relations), "MLF Lullaby" (a charming little tune about the Multilateral Forces), "Smut" ("I do have a cause, though. It is 'obscenity'. I'm for it...") and "Vatican Rag" (everything you wanted to know about Catholicism but were afraid to ask...). While I'm not going to link to all the songs on the album, if you're up for a laugh, I'd strongly recommend taking a glance at all of his lyrics, which can be found on this website. There are also clips for many of the songs on YouTube, which are definitely worth checking out.
As I mentioned above, many of his tunes are still relevant today, whether it be "So Long, Mom" (about a young soldier going off to fight in World War 3) or "Who's Next" (a song about the nuclear arms race). Check out the clip below for a spot-on assessment of American foreign policy.
(Lyrics for all Tom Lehrer songs can be found here.)
If you'd like to listen to "This Was the Year that Was" in full, some kind soul has been thoughtful enough to upload it to YouTube in sections:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five (contains only "Vatican Rag")
Disclaimer: Drinking liquids is not recommended while listening to Tom Lehrer. If you choose to do so, it is at your own risk. Your snarfing is not my responsibility.
*The title of this post is the last line of the Tom Lehrer song "Folk Song Army".
Growing up in the 1980s, I'd never heard the term "hip hop", and "rap" was a fairly new phenomenon; at least it was for me. In my high school, we had students who did their best to emulate the "white-gloved one" by moonwalking, and we were all trying (and mostly failing, with few exceptions) to breakdance. Living in suburbia, our music of choice tended to be new wave, with some daring to go "punk". Looking back now at the artists and songs that were popular way back when, though perhaps distinct from other genres, they all more or less fit into the same mold, a mold that groups nearly all the songs of the day under the generic title of "80s" music.
That being said, there were also a number of songs that didn't fit the mold, songs that were so different as to be exciting, songs that took us by surprise and made us stop, think, and simply admire the originality. Today's choice is one such song, and not only does it fall into categories mentioned in this feature in earlier entries (songs with unintelligible lyrics performed by artists who meet the "one-hit wonder" definition), it's a song that was far ahead of its time in terms of its use of sound and technique.
When it was released in 1984, "Jam-On It" became an immediate hit. We all sang along, despite a complete inability to understand the lyrics (for a while, we were convinced that "jam-on it" actually rhymed with "Zamboni" which, as every hockey fan knows, is the machine used to resurface an ice rink). While the trailblazing artists behind this song, Newcleus, are still together, they have, as far as I know, never been able to match the success of "Jam-On It".
Jam-On It
Newcleus
Yeah
Jam on it
(Yeah, yeah, we know, we know)
Huh
(Yeah, Goggles, you gonna rock it, right)
(You gonna do it down, right)
Ha-ha-ha-ha, yeah
(Hey, Cozmo, what's the name of this again)
(I forgot)
Jam on it
(Oh)
(Oh, Chilly B, get down, ho)
(Oh, oh, here comes Cozmo)
(Ho)
(We get to say wikki-wikki-wikki again)
Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki
(Shut up)
Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki
Three words to the whack, step yourself back
Just gettin' down, and you then you're givin' no slack
Like a Burger King with a sack of Big Macs
We're throwin' down with the radical sacks
On time, in your mind you see
You gotta boogie to your best ability
You gotta funk it up until it knocks you down
And when you're funkin' up, be sure to pass it around
Come on, let's go to work
We got what'll make your body jerk
Make you throw your hands up in the air
Shake your booty and scream, "Oh, yeah"
'Cause we are the Jam On Crew
And jammin' on it is how we do the do
We'll funk you up until you boogie down
So come people check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound
(Jam on it)
There's going to sound
They're going to get down
(Jam on it)
Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Chilly B
And I'm a surefire, full blooded bonafide house rockin' Jam-On Production MC
If you want the best, put me to the test, and I'm sure you'll soon agree
That I got no force 'cause I'm down by law when it comes to rockin' viciously, you see
'Cause when I was a little baby boy my mama gave me a brand new toy
Two turn tables with a mic, and I learned to rock like Dolymite
Time went by, on this God creation, I knew someday I would rock the nation
So I made up my mind just what to do and I joined with the Jam On Production Crew
So go crazy, go crazy, don't let your body be lazy
I said don't stop the body rock till your eyesight starts to get hazy
Clean out your ears and you open your eye, if you wanna hear the music just come alive
If you don't know how get ready to learn
'Cause Cozmo's takin' his turn to burn
Take the "C" and "O" and the "Z"
Then they add "M-O" and the freaky "D"
Add a funky beat, and then what do you see
It's Cozmo D, yeah, baby, that's me
I've got the beat that's, oh, so sweet
Without me rockin' it's incomplete
So rock this, yo', rock that, yo'
Rock on and don't you dare stop
You rock this, rock that, and that's a fact
'Cause the Jam On Crew will rock your body right back
Rock a steam locomo ride off the track
And give the whole wide world a funk attack
A to the beat y'all, get down
Let me rock it to the rhythm of the funk sound
From hill to hill, from sea to sea
A when Jam On's rockin' everybody (Jam on it)
Jam on it
Jam on and on, on and on it
And if you're feelin' like you wanna dance all night
They go on ahead and flaunt it
'Cause jammin' on is what we do best
It's what separates us from the rest
And if you go deep, I'll cruise down for real
Let me tell what happened to the man of steel
(Said Superman had come to town to see who he could rock)
(He blew away every crew he faced until he reached the block)
(His speakers were three stories high with woofers made of steel)
(And when we boys sit outside, he said "I boom for real")
He said, "I'm faster than a speedin' bullet when I'm on the set
I don't need no fans to cool my a**, I just use my super breath
I could fly three times around the world without missin' a beat
I socialize with X-ray eyes, and ladies think it's sweet
(And then he turned his power on and the ground began to move)
(And all the buildings for miles around were swayin' to the groove)
(And just when he had fooled the crowd and swore he wouldn't fight)
We rocked this bet with a 12 inch cut called Disco Kryptonite
Well, Superman looked up at me, he said, "You rock so naturally"
I said now that you've learned to deal, let me tell you why I'm so for real
I'm Cozmo D from outer space, I came to rock the human race
I do it right 'cause I can't do it wrong
That's why the whole world is singin' this song
(Jam on it) Jam on it
I said jam-j-j-jam on it
As days turn to night and night turns to day
Whatever time it is i wanna hear you say
(Jam on it) Jam on it
I said jam on-on-on, jam on it
Jam all around and upside down
And keep jammin' to the Jam On Production sound
(Jam on it) Jam on it
I said jam-j-j-jam on it
I said Jam On is the funky beat that takes control
With a sure shot boogie that'll rock your soul
(Jam on it) Jam on it
I said jam-j-j-jam on it
Get outta your seat and jam to the beat
And don't you dare stop till early mornin'
Jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it
(Yeah, that's how you do it Cozmo)
(You were right, kid, that's the way you do it)
(Yeah, like did you see when he went in the corner)
(And he started doin' this)
(Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki)
(Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki)
(Ah, man, this is too funky for me)
(I'm goin' home)
(Hey, Mergatroid, let's go)
(Hey, you fellas seen my sister Mergatroid)
(She was standin' over here just a minute ago)
(Yeah, I think I saw her over there with Randy)
(He's rockin' the mic, you know)
(Diggy dang diggy dang da dang dang da diggy diggy diggy dang dang)
(Diggy dang diggy diggy)
(The beat is fresh y'all)
(Yeah, fresh)
Said don't you hear the sound
Jam On is gettin' down
There's one band out there that can put me in a good mood more than any other group or solo artist. When depressed, I often put on one of their CDs (or cassettes) at high volume, and the music almost never fails to bring a smile to my face. If I've got a stack of dishes to wash or have to do some cleaning around the house, I know that I can do it faster if I'm singing along to this group.
The Beach Boys were formed back in 1961, and have been making music ever since. Changes to the group lineup may have slowed them down at times, but they always managed to roar back to life with their distinct, fabulous sound. I know the words to nearly all of their songs, and have seen them perform live twice. The first time was at Tanglewood, located in the beautiful Berkshires region of Western Massachusetts. I went with my friend Jenny, who had come for a visit so that we could go to the concert, and we stayed at my family's lakeside cabin in Lee. It was, of course, an amazing concert, and there are a few moments that I've managed to retain in my aging memory.
We went to the concert during the summer after I returned from my year in Israel. I still had pins in my ankle from having broken it while abroad, and when we wanted to stick around for a bit after the concert, I used my ankle as an excuse when a security guard asked us to leave. I told him I needed to rest for a bit and let him feel my ankle. The moment he realized that he was touching screws, he pulled his hand back as though he'd touched dog poo, said we could stay as long as was needed, and then ran away. When we finally decided to leave, we made our way to the parking lot. We found the spot where we'd left the car, or rather, where we thought we'd left the car. We couldn't find the car! We wandered around and around in the lot, wondering where the car had disappeared to. Suddenly, we noticed people walking past our parking lot, which is when we realized that there was more than one parking lot. Sheepishly, we joined the parade of post-concert goers and found our car just where we'd left it – in the other parking lot.
The second Beach Boys concert that I attended was at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. It was a few days before my wedding (which would make it exactly 14 years ago, as our 14th anniversary is later this week), and I went with my soon-to-be husband and his sister; somehow, we'd managed to snag seats in the first row of the balcony. We sang along with the opening act, America (at least I think it was them), and once The Beach Boys came on stage, we started dancing as well. Lots of room to dance in the first row of the balcony, and the completely unobstructed view was simply outstanding.
Unfortunately, I haven't had a chance to get to any Beach Boys concerts since then. I keep waiting for them to come to Israel, but so far, there's been no "Love" on these shores. This band always makes me think of summer, and I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate mark the end of summer vacation than to feature a song by The Beach Boys for today's edition of 80s Music Video Sunday. And those of you who grew up watching TV in the 80s should definitely recognize the drummer...
Kokomo
The Beach Boys
Aruba, Jamaica ooo I wanna take ya
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Jamaica
Off the Florida Keys
There's a place called Kokomo
That's where you wanna go to get away from it all
Bodies in the sand
Tropical drink melting in your hand
We'll be falling in love
To the rhythm of a steel drum band
Down in Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take ya
To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go
Way down to Kokomo
To Martinique, that Monserrat mystique
We'll put out to sea
And we'll perfect our chemistry
By and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity
Afternoon delight
Cocktails and moonlit nights
That dreamy look in your eye
Give me a tropical contact high
Way down in Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you
To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go
Way down to Kokomo
Port Au Prince, I wanna catch a glimpse
Everybody knows
A little place like Kokomo
Now if you wanna go
And get away from it all
Go down to Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you
To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo
We'll get there fast
And then we'll take it slow
That's where we wanna go
Way down to Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you
To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama
Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo
While I've always enjoyed their music, for some reason, I never found myself mooning over Duran Duran the way that so many other females of my generation did back in the 80s. I suppose I liked their songs, but never felt the need to purchase their albums or buy tickets to their concerts. I wasn't drawn to them like I was drawn to so many other artists of the time, and I really can't put my finger on why that might be. Maybe I just found them to be too popular, and given that I was something of a loner, their music just didn't speak to me. Maybe they were just a bit too mainstream and too "pretty" for my tastes. Even today, while I certainly don't have a problem with their music, I can also admit that I don't really have any Duran Duran songs among my massive collection of 80s tunes (though I do have a bit of a soft spot for Simon LeBon, since discovering that he spent some time here on a kibbutz when he was younger).
That being said, though, there is one Duran Duran song that I've always really liked, and even went so far as to purchase the single. The sound, different from many of their other popular songs, really appealed to me, and still does. Enjoy!
(Sorry this post is so short – I'm totally swamped today and time is of the essence...)
Save a Prayer
Duran Duran
You saw me standing by the wall, corner of a main street
And the lights are flashing on your window sill
All alone ain't much fun, so you're looking for the thrill
And you know just what it takes and where to go
Don't save a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
Feel the breeze deep on the inside, look you down into the well
If you can, you'll see the world in all his fire
Take a chance (like all dreamers can't find another way)
You don't have to dream it all, just live a day
Don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after, save it till the morning after
Pretty looking road, I try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin
Don't ask me why I'll keep my promise, I'll melt the ice
And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance
But fear is in your soul
Some people call it a one night stand
But we can call it paradise
Don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save it 'til the morning after
Save a prayer 'til the morning after
I don't even remember his name anymore, but for a while, he was one of my pen pals. Back in the 70s and 80s, it was very much the in thing in certain crowds to have pen pals, whose names you received via a variety of organizations created especially to facilitate such cross-cultural connections. I filled out the forms, stating my interests and hobbies with care, and was shortly rewarded by my efforts with letters from boys my age (don't ask why they didn't present me with female pen pals – I have no idea!) who lived in Israel and Egypt. In this pre-Internet era, we exchanged letters for a while, but given the inherent difficulties of filling pieces of paper with handwritten words, carefully folding the pages so they'd fit in the envelope, addressing said envelope and determining the proper amount of postage needed, these pen friendships, while well-intentioned, did not last for too long.
If I were to spend a few days rummaging through my old keepsakes (all conveniently boxed when my parents moved house just under two years ago), I might find the old letters and photos, reminding me of long-forgotten facts and nuggets of information shared by my pen friends in Egypt and Israel, at a time when I was too young to know about global issues and conflicts, and wished only to make friends with people in far away lands (apparently, some things never change!). Though it's probably been around 25 years since these connections were made, there is one detail that I still remember – the boy from Israel was really into a band called Dire Straits.
I've always enjoyed their music, not least of which because Mark Knopfler wrote the score for one of my all-time favorite movies, "The Princess Bride". Given that today is Mr. Knopfler's 58th birthday, it seems only fitting that today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry feature this incredible band. And, as opposed to last week's entry that featured the first video ever shown on MTV in the US, today's video was the first video ever shown on MTV Europe, on August 1st, 1987. Clearly, Europe wanted their MTV...
The song "Money for Nothing" is shrouded in controversy. Written by Knopfler from the point of view of a blue-collar worker watching MTV, the lyrics were criticized as being anti-gay, sexist and racist, and the entire second verse was often edited out due to both its content and the overall length of the song in its complete version. This edited version later appeared on a Dire Straits compilation album. In some instances, the word "faggot" was apparently replaced by "mother". While I was rather naive when the song was released in 1985, today I'm more than a little surprised that the public was so accepting of lyrics that make me somewhat uneasy.
Money for Nothing
Dire Straits
I want my
I want my MTV
Now look at them yo-yos that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and chicks for free
Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb
Maybe get a blister on your little finger
Maybe get a blister on your thumb
We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour tvs
See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That little faggot got his own jet airplane
That little faggot hes a millionaire
We gotta install microwave ovesns
Custom kitchens deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour tvs
I shoulda learned to play the guitar
I shoulda learned to play them drums
Look at that mama, she got it stickin' in the camera
Man we could have some fun
And he's up there, what's that? hawaiian noises?
Bangin on the bongoes like a chimpanzee
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Get your money for nothin' get your chicks for free
We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour tvs, lord
Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the mtv
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and your chicks for free
Money for nothin' and chicks for free
I want my
I want my MTV
While growing up, my family always seemed to be a bit behind in the technology game. In our house, phrases like "Now in living color", or "Now in technicolor" meant nothing, as we were the last family on the block to get a color television (and don't even get me started on the lack of a remote control). We were also the last family to get cable television (remember the cable box that sat on top of your television, with a different button for each channel?). Needless to say, this "lethal" combination didn't make us terribly popular when it came to just hanging out and watching television, especially as in our area of Upstate New York, not having cable meant living with three network channels, PBS, and one local channel, which eventually turned into FOX.
In the same way that my younger brother blames his fondness for sugar cereals on the fact that we never had them at home while growing up (we could only have the personal serving-sized boxes on visits to the grandparents, resulting in daily battles as we reserved each box days in advance – "I want the Sugar Pops!" "No! I called it yesterday!" "Mom!"), it wouldn't surprise me to discover that the lack of color and cable in our youth resulted in him today being the proud owner of a seriously high-tech television with a huge screen and several hundred television stations, many of which are in Spanish, due to the fact that he lives in South Florida. And, while I do not share his penchant for sugar cereals (I'm a "Special K" girl), it would not be an understatement to say that I'm wowed by his TV setup (and especially impressed by the fact that my seven year-old niece knows how to configure her own TiVo settings).
Not having cable in the early 80s had its drawbacks, especially for kids our age. We were forced to look elsewhere for our television needs, and missed out on various pop culture phenomena. On August 1st, 1981, when all of our friends suddenly started talking about how they "wanted their MTV", it took us a while until we finally discovered what we'd been missing. We were part of the original MTV generation, and our idols included the newly-coined VJs – Nina Blackwood, JJ Jackson, Mark Goodman, Alan Hunter, and Martha Quinn. Now, of course, MTV has changed and expanded dramatically over the years, with a veritable plethora of MTV networks around the world, with different formats on both the genre level and the regional level, and to be honest, I don't even know what channel it's on anymore (we get MTV Europe as part of our basic cable package). Over the years, I transitioned from being an MTV watcher to being a VH1 watcher, and these days, I don't watch the music channels at all, with one of the underlying reasons being that I simply can't bear the fact that at some point, most of my favorites tunes suddenly fell under the genres of either classics/oldies or adult contemporary (shudder).
In any event, today's 80s Music Video Sunday commemorates that August day 26 years ago when a brand new television network entered our lives and changed the world of music forever. And it all started with this song by The Buggles, which, though technically ineligible for 80s Music Video Sunday because it was released in 1979, receives honorary 80s status because of the defining role it played in one of the most pivotal events of the 1980s as the first video ever played on MTV.
Video Killed the Radio Star
The Buggles
I heard you on the wireless back in '52
Lying awake intend at tuning in on you
If I was young it didn't stop you coming through
(Oh, oh)
They took the credit for your second symphony
Rewritten by machine and new technology
And now I understand the problems you can see
(Oh, oh)
I met your children
(Oh, oh) What did you tell them?
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Pictures came and broke your heart
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
And now we meet in an abandoned studio
We hear the playback and it seems so long ago
And you remember the jingles used to go
(Oh, oh) You were the first one
(Oh, oh) You were the last one
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
In my mind and in my car
We can't rewind we've gone to far
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
In my mind and in my car
We can't rewind we've gone to far
Pictures came and broke your heart
Put the blame on VTR
You are a radio star
You are a radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star)
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star)
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star)
Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star)
Video killed the radio star
As distinctive as the sounds of the 80s were, the fashions and styles were no less memorable. Who can forget the white stripe painted across Adam Ant's nose, Michael Jackson's ever-present white glove (surgical, to be used in little boy emergencies, no doubt), Madonna's, ummm, well, everything (and yes, for those of you in the younger crowd, she has indeed been around that long)? Big hair was everywhere, on the guys as well as the girls... Shoulder pads that would make any linebacker proud... Lots of color and paisley, with a pull towards geometric prints in general.
And of course, when the stars were doing it, so were we. No white stripes painted across my nose, but I can remember at least one or two male friends who wore make-up on a regular basis, and big hair – either in the form of being puffy or spiky – was all the rage. Mullets and mohawks were inexplicably popular (though admittedly, the latter seemed to be a form of personal expression emanating mostly from the school jocks), and I'm guessing that were a poll to be taken today, those of us who grew up in the 80s would probably show the greatest desire in wanting to see our old photos burned.
In my mind, there is one artist from the 80s who perfectly embodies everything flamboyant and outlandish from that era. Boy George turned androgyny into an art form, and I can remember at least one of my friends doing his best to emulate his unique style for a party (I'm sure I've got the "blackmail" photos somewhere). Musically brilliant and fabulously eccentric, Boy George's talents helped to turn the band Culture Club into superstars, producing hit after hit with their outrageous songs and videos, and proving themselves to be no less colorful offstage.
For small-town suburban kids like us, Culture Club was fresh and exciting, both in terms of sound and looks, and I was a big fan. Even today, I still enjoy their music, so much so that I had one of their songs as my ring tone, until NRG heard my phone ring when we were in Amsterdam last Fall and asked that I please change it to pretty much anything else. I complied, and before I remembered to switch it back after our trip, I upgraded my cell phone, losing my old ring tones and downloading new ones.
Today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry features Culture Club, the artists who, for me, are the epitome of everything 80s. Today's song is, incidentally, also the one that was on my cell phone...
Karma Chameleon
Culture Club
Desert loving in your eyes all the way
If I listen to your lies would you say
I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go
You come and go
Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon
You come and go
You come and go
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream
Red, gold and green
Red, gold and green
Didn't hear your wicked words every day
And you used to be so sweet I heard you say
That my love was an addiction
When we cling our love is strong
When you go you're gone forever
You string along
You string along
Every day is like a survival
You're my lover not my rival
Every day is like a survival
You're my lover not my rival
I'm a man without conviction
I'm a man who doesn't know
How to sell a contradiction
You come and go
You come and go
I have friends around the same age as me who grew up in Europe while I was growing up in the US, and it's interesting to note that while musical trends on both sides of the Atlantic were very similar, there were certainly differences in the way that these trends played out. Whenever I take one of those inane little music trivia quizzes, I know for a fact that I'll probably score much lower if the quiz is geared, for example, towards a British audience as opposed to an American audience, as many of the artists that were popular in the UK never came to the US.
Even when a band was popular on both continents, band names often had subtle differences, such as the group known in the US as Yaz, but in Europe as Yazoo which, incidentally, launched the phenomenal career of Alison Moyet, whose amazing voice is hardly known at all in the US, and probably wouldn't be known to me if I hadn't spent so much time in Israel during my high school and university years. I can even remember returning to the US following trips to Israel, dumbfounded that the music to which I'd grown so attached during my journey was almost completely unknown in the US.
While there are many popular European artists haven't been able to break into the US market at all, or have just barely made a splash, including my beloved Housemartins, there are other artists who, while popular in both regions, have select albums that were released in one area and not the other, or albums that were released in both places but with different album covers, such as Depeche Mode's album "The Singles 81>85". And of course, individual songs are often not released everywhere as singles, or songs might be released at different times. When we were in the US during June of 2006, NRG (who lives in Europe) and I were driving somewhere (we had coordinated visits to our parents for the first time ever) and Daniel Powter's "Had a Bad Day" came on the radio. The song had been a huge hit in Israel and Europe for over a year at that point, and we were both surprised to hear that it had only recently been released in the US.
This week's featured artist for 80s Music Video Sunday is one of those bands that were more popular in the UK than in the US. I can only remember two XTC songs being in relatively decent rotation in the US – "Senses Working Overtime" and "Making Plans for Nigel" – more so the former than the latter. A week spent driving around the UK nearly four years ago listening to copious amounts of local radio reminded me of this band's existence, and an online search when I returned to Israel introduced me to a treasure trove of songs by this band that I'd never known existed. Today's video is my favorite XTC song – "Mayor of Simpleton", which caught my ear the very first time I heard it.
Mayor of Simpleton
XTC
Never been near a university,
never took a paper or a learned degree,
and some of your friends think that's stupid of me,
but it's nothing that I care about.
Well I don't know how to tell the weight of the sun,
and of mathematics well I want none,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.
When their logic grows cold and all thinking gets done,
you'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
I can't have been there when brains were handed round
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
or get past the cover of your books profound
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
And some of your friends thinks it's really unsound that you're ever seen talking to me.
Well I don't know how to write a big hit song,
and all crossword puzzles well I just shun,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.
I'm not proud of the fact that I never learned much,
just feel I should say,
what you get is all real, I can't put on an act,
it takes brains to do that anyway.
(And anyway...)
And I can't unravel riddles problems and puns,
how the home computer has me on the run,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you
(I love you).
If depth of feeling is a currency
(please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton),
then I'm the man who grew the money tree
(no chain of office and no hope of getting one),
some of your friends are too brainy to see that they're paupers and that's how they'll stay.
Well I don't know how many pounds make up a ton
of all the Nobel prizes that I've never won,
and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton,
but I know one thing and that's I love you.
When all logic grows cold and all thinking gets done,
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor.
(Please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton.)
As you've all figured out by now, I went to high school back in the 80s. I was your average, angst-ridden teenager, and while I was able to get along with virtually everyone, my utter lack of self-confidence (and for those of you who actually know me in person, if you think I'm lacking in self-confidence now, you should have seen me then...) and limited knowledge of all that was cool always left me feeling rather inept. In my freshman year, I was placed in the honors English class (which, incidentally, was the first and last honors course I ever took, but that is neither here or nor there). To say that we had the coolest teacher in the school would have been an understatement. At the time, she was probably the coolest person I'd ever come across, and like everyone else in my class, I was absolutely mesmerized by her persona. Ms. Peterson was the epitome of all that was awesome and hip. She was young and she was totally "with it", and I'm guessing it wouldn't be too far off the mark to assume that she set the hormones of most (if not all) of her male students raging, not to mention projected an aura that all of her female students were secretly dying to emulate.
Ms. Peterson was as innovative in her teaching as one would expect from a teacher with her personality. She did what she could in order to get us to think outside the box, to get us excited about learning. She introduced us to a whole slew of authors, and she had us read and analyze William Safire's newspaper columns on a regular basis. What do I remember the most, though? I remember the day she came in with her portable stereo (otherwise referred to back in the day as a "box", if memory serves me correctly), popped in a cassette, and introduced me to the music of the B-52's. That's right, folks. We analyzed the words of the song "Rock Lobster". Ms. Peterson's coolness rating positively skyrocketed that day. Their sound was like nothing I'd ever heard before, and suddenly, thanks to being in Ms. Peterson's English class, I felt cool by association.
Of course, "Rock Lobster" was released in 1978, and as such, it's ineligible for 80s Music Video Sunday. So, in honor of Ms. Peterson and that very special honors English class, today's featured video is the B-52s "Love Shack", released in 1989. I'm sure Ms. Peterson would approve.
Love Shack
B-52s
If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says
15 miles to the... Love Shack! Love Shack yeah
I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway,
lookin' for the love getaway
Heading for the love getaway, love getaway,
I got me a car, it's as big as a whale
and we're headin' on down
To the Love Shack
I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20
So hurry up and bring your jukebox money
The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee.
Love baby, that's where it's at,
Ooo love baby, that's where it's at
Sign says.. Woo... stay away fools,
'cause love rules at the Lo-o-ove Shack!
Well it's set way back in the middle of a field,
Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back
Glitter on the mattress
Glitter on the highway
Glitter on the front porch
Glitter on the hallway
The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack bay-bee! Love Shack baby!
Love Shack, that's where it's at!
Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin',
wearin' next to nothing
Cause it's hot as an oven
The whole shack shimmies!
The whole shack shimmies when everybody's
Movin' around and around and around and around!
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby!
Folks linin' up outside just to get down
Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby
Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack!
Hop in my Chrysler,
it's as big as a whale
and it's about to set sail!
I got me a car, it seats about twenty
So c'mon and bring your jukebox money.
The Love Shack is a little old place
where we can get together
Love Shack baby! Love Shack bay-bee!
(Love Shack...Love Shack...)
Love Shack, that's where it's at!
Bang bang bang on the door baby!
Knock a little louder baby!
Bang bang bang on the door baby!
I can't hear you
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang on the door
Bang bang on the door baby
Bang bang
You're what?... Tin roof, rusted!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that's where it's at
Love Shack, baby Love Shack!
Love baby, that's where it's at
Huggin' and a kissin',
dancin' and a lovin' at the love shack
