Something Awesome

For Christina:

There has never been a mullet like it.  Davy Jones circa 1987.

Davy Jones

It's hard for me to describe how I feel about the sudden death of Davy Jones of the Monkees.  How can anything I say be enough?  How can I properly express my appreciation?

I took a writing class once, and the teacher's mantra was, "Show, don't tell."  Okay.  I can do that.  This is how it began:

During the summers, Nick at Nite used to devote one night of the week to a different TV show.  I grumbled when they switched over from my beloved Munster Monday to Monkee Monday.  I never saw The Monkees before, and the commercials looked kind of stupid.  Certainly not up to the high standards set by The Munsters!  Luckily, my eleven year old self was totally obsessed with boys, and these ones were kind of cute...
 
So of course, I ended up in love with the show.  It was campy, zany fun, injected with great music and cute, if strangely dressed, guys.  In short, ideal for a preteen kid who couldn't decide if she was supposed to be watching Scooby Doo or MTV's Real World.  I became infatuated with Davy Jones, "the cute one" with the adorable British accent, perfectly unaware that he was actually in his early 50s at the time.
 
During a certain point that summer, Nick at Nite cancelled The Monkees' weekly run, but aired a twelve hour, overnight marathon of the show (a parting gift?) on it's sister network, TV Land.
 
I set my VCR, and watched all 24 episodes over the next two days.  For several years, this was my main source of the Monkees. 

I was alone in my mania until summer 2000, when Christina (finally) came on board with the debut of the VH1 biopic Daydream Believers: The Monkees' Story.  The cute boys got to her, too.

Now that I had a compatriot, my obsession became probably unbearable for my parents.  I wanted everything: records, CDs, videos, memorabilia.  My collection grew along with my fanaticism.  I started wearing bell bottoms. 

The pinnacle of my life, I thought, would be seeing a Monkees concert.  When they announced a 2001 tour, minus member Mike Nesmith, you better believe Christina and I were going.

The night was a blur from the very start.  Christina and I could not have been more wired.  It was a fantastic concert, made even better by Christina's sneaky and wonderful mom.  Unbeknownst to us, she sent the band a letter telling them what huge fans we were.  Davy Jones gave us a shout out from the stage.  He mispronounced my name six ways from Sunday, and I ended up with a new nickname from Christina as a result.

My heart still beats a little faster thinking about Davy trying to say my name.

I will never forget how happy we were that night, and how happy the Monkees have always made me.  I watch the episodes now and I laugh; not because the jokes are particularly funny, but instead because of how I felt watching them as a kid. 

Who knows if I would have gotten obsessed with the Monkees if it wasn't for that cute English boy.  I will be grateful to Davy Jones forever.  The Monkees brought more joy into my childhood than I imagined was possible.

I'm amazed and touched by the outpouring of love directed at Davy Jones and his family.  I'm glad I'm not alone in my appreciation.  I hope he knew how loved he was.

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?

I opted to watch What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? on TCM instead of the Oscars on Sunday, and I can not say I regret it.  The acting was over the top (in a good way) and Bette Davis was truly creepy as a psychotic woman stuck in her childhood.
 
I spent most of the time wondering how much they paid the then 53 year old Bette Davis to look like this on screen:

Baby Jane Hudson feels pretty, oh so pretty

I always loved Bette Davis.  She had a real presence about her, beyond just her super-famous eyes.  Not many women could appear on screen with Marilyn Monroe (in All About Eve, though it's brief) and steal the attention.  Not to mention that Marilyn was 20 years her junior.  Bette can somehow be over the top and believable at the same time. 

My interest in Joan Crawford's work is much more recent.  She plays the tortured sister in Baby Jane beautifully.  And Joan is oh-so gorgeous, with that regal quality as always.

Of course, the best movie Joan Crawford made was Mildred Pierce, which I saw for the first time over the summer.  It was an instant favorite.

I'm not going to comment on the feud that took place between Bette and Joan because, well, I'm not a film historian and I think half of the things said about the two of them are probably exaggerated.  But, in my opinion, a feud between two stars of their caliber does indeed make for a great story.  Especially because there isn't really any proof. 

They didn't talk about hating each other in interviews.  There were no photos of Bette Davis with her hands around Joan Crawford's throat. 

And that is the "problem" with the world we live in now.  The very same fantastic technology that allows any idiot to put their thoughts into the world (yes myself included) also takes away any semblance of mystery that once surrounded our idols.

For example, do I need to see live instagrams of Katy Perry's nail salon visit?  Or know when Kim Kardashian is getting cellulite treatments?  Or, worse, when Ashton Kutcher has an opinion? 

Am I the only one who can barely remember the days when celebrities used to take shits in private?  

Of course, I have a double standard.  Because I tweet constantly and blog and use Facebook like every other person.  But there's just something romantic about a time when I couldn't find out every detail of every person's life with ease.

I mean, can you imagine Joan Crawford and Bette Davis tweeting nasty comments about each other in 1962?

Bette Davis @YouBette
SO NOT surprised that @THE_JoanC put weights in her pockets b4 I had to drag her bony ass across the floor all day - #ThingsIPutUpWith !!


Joan Crawford @THE_JoanC
@YouBette Maybe it will teach you not to make contact next time we have a 'kicking crippled sister in head' scene.


Bette Davis @YouBette
@THE_JoanC If I have to tell you that was an accident one more time, I'll ACTUALLY kick you in the head.


Joan Crawford @THE_JoanC
@YouBette Come at me.

OK, I guess I did comment on the feud.  So sue me!  (note: please don't sue me.)

Favorite Albums - The Doors 3/5

I know, I know - how old am I?  Well, an acquaintance once told me I had "an old soul" and I guess it's not far from the truth.  Most of my favorite bands are from the '60s and '70s.  I suspect that I was a hippie in a past life.

With that background in mind, I present to you another one of my favorites: The Doors self-entitled debut album from 1967.  
 
(Full disclosure: it can be a toss up for me between this album and the Doors' 1970 release  Morrison Hotel.  Both are fantastic and beg to be listened to.  On sweet, sweet vinyl, if you can swing it.)
 

It has probably been a year since the last time I played the Doors first album in its entirety.  Listening to it again yesterday just reaffirmed what I've always loved about it: this album sounds like the '60s.  Fortunately, it achieves this without all the "make love, not war, and let's wear flowers in our hair" type of stuff that so frequently dates music from this time period.  ("Age of Aquarius," anyone?)
 
On the contrary, despite the distinct '60s vibe and inclusion of tasty harpsichord solos, this album sounds pretty modern to me.  
 
Take, for example, a killer song like "Break on Through (To the Other Side)."  This is one of those songs that could easily be played on a modern rock station without sounding out of place.  It's also, in my opinion, the strongest song on the album.

The very prominent bass line is mirrored and embellished by the guitar.  I find this to be quite a modern and effective use of the bass.  A popular song that makes use of the bass in a similar way is the Red Hot Chili Pepper's "Otherside."  
 
This album includes my first favorite Doors song, the sinister sounding "The Crystal Ship."  The song is extremely atmospheric without passing into Pink Floyd territory.  It also has the interesting quality of being the only song on the album that is sans guitar.  Instead, it relies on a beautiful and haunting piano piece, accented with an echoey harpsichord. 
 
One of the most interesting aspects of any album by the Doors is Jim Morrison's vocal performance.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, I'm not big on lyrics.  But Morrison's voice makes you care about what he's singing.  It's a voice I can get behind!  
 
Although he puts in excellent performances on every track, I really enjoy Morrison's voice in the song "Soul Kitchen."  He makes this song.  The growl he affects during the chorus is seriously memorable.  The song wouldn't be nearly as interesting without it, although it's a nice little rock number.  
 
If you have any minor interest in '60s rock, the debut Doors album is a great place to begin your journey.  My favorite songs are: "Break on Through (To the Other Side)" "Light My Fire" "The Crystal Ship" and "Twentieth Century Fox."  
 

Favorite Albums - The Colour and the Shape 2/5

Anyone who knows me at all knows that a Foo Fighters album had to make this list.  Here it is.

The Colour and the Shape was the band's sophomore album, but that's kind of not true because the first album was basically "the Dave Grohl music project."

Anyway, it's their best album.  What I like about it is that it sounds much more polished than the previous (self entitled) album, yet it doesn't lose that biting edge. 

Screamy rock anthems, like "Wind Up" and "Enough Space," make you want to go to jump up and down at a concert.  The simple, driving guitar riffs make these songs instantly memorable. 

The enormous hit "Everlong" is moody and dramatic, but in a different way from, say, a Meatloaf song.  Yes, there's the oft-talked about whispering, but it's followed by a kind of musical build up that is just plain rockin.  I don't find that any song on this album crosses the line into over-produced.

My favorite song on the album (today) is "My Poor Brain."  I absolutely love the quiet/loud/quiet/loud way it plays out.  Grohl almost whispers the refrain lyrics over a quiet, bouncy tune.  Comparatively, the chorus is a cacophony of drums, screaming, and distorted guitar.  I feel that it mimics the way people think, that kind of stop and go quality that life has, with cacophony equaling confusion.  Maybe that's just me.

(And the lyrics make me so happy.  I don't usually give a shit about lyrics, but I can't help but smile when he screams "Sometimes I wish that I could change / I can't save you from my poor braaain-aaain-aaain-aaain-OK!)

Although there are a lot of different types of songs on the album, from folksy ("See You") to straight guitar-driven rock ("Monkey Wrench") to even ballad ("Walking After You"), nothing on the album really feels out of place.  The only song I tend to skip is "February Stars," which, in my opinion, just kind of sits there with no life until three minutes have passed.

But then, I'm not a slow song kind of girl.  

Favorite Albums - The White Album 1/5

I love music.  Pop, punk, disco, rap - my musical tastes are many and varied and often bizarro.  And usually dictated by my mood on any given day.

Like most people, my favorite albums, songs, and musicians are always changing, too.  One day I'm obsessed with the Bob Dylan, the next it's all about the Ramones.  And the day after that I am digging Kanye.

But I think I've narrowed it down to five albums that will always be in my top ten, if not higher.  At the very least, it will be fun to look back at this in five years to wonder what the hell I was thinking.

So, here's my first one:
 
The Beatles' White Album might be my favorite of all time, but try to resist quoting me on that, if you can manage.  I really obsess over this album, though.  I normally play disk 1 and then disk 2 and then disk 1 and then disk 2 (rinse repeat) over and over when I listen to it.

There is so much balance and juxtaposition: the gorgeously melodic "Blackbird" follows the slow and draining beat of "I'm So Tired."  Arguably the hardest rocking song the Beatles ever put out, "Helter Skelter," is followed by the floaty Harrison penned "Long, Long, Long," with it's ethereal guitar and driving drum beats. 

The only weak point of the album occurs at the end of disk 2, when the performance art-esque "Revolution 9" hits your speakers followed by the tongue in cheek Ringo ballad "Good Night."  But, then, there is a reason those tracks were placed at the end of a two disk album.

Some of my favorite tracks: "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" "Long, Long, Long" "Sexy Sadie" "Dear Prudence"

Acoustic

I've been in a quiet mood musically.  Instead of the exceptional loud rock and roll that usually fills my earballs, I've been hitting the softer stuff.  Like this (normally shunned by me) song by the Foo Fighters:

This happens with me a lot; I get a little obsessed with a song I am typically unimpressed with.

For instance: Three Marlenas by the Wallflowers.  I never cared for that song, it kind of bored me.  And, listen, I lived in the 90s so that's not normal, I realize.  But after I saw the Wallflowers in concert, I couldn't stop listening to that song for about a week straight.  Probably longer.  One of the best shows I've ever been to.

Something similar happened with the song Any Time At All by the Beatles from A Hard Day's Night.  I bought the cd and skipped that song religiously until probably my hundredth listen.  Left it on by accident and started to love it.  Still do, in fact.

So, yeah, some of my favorite songs have been underwhelming, at first.  Sleeper hits, if you will.

But I'm hoping this February funk passes soon.  Not sure how much more acoustic shit I can stand wanting to listen to.