Random Thoughts: Language

With a nod of respect to my all time favorite stand-up comic, George Carlin….an homage:

Isn’t “Pre-owned” the same way of saying “new”? I always though “pre” meant “prior to”, not “previously”. Another example of lazy language.

Why do people refer to the canned treat as “Tuna Fish”? What else can tuna possibly be? You never hear anyone say “Pass me some of that Turkey Bird, please.”

Why do “fat chance” and “slim chance” both mean “virtually no chance”?

From baseball, why are wild pitches always “uncorked”?

Why aren’t happy people ever described as being “gruntled”? “Disgruntled” is used all the time when talking about angry or sad folks, right?

For that matter, have you ever furled something? Flags are always unfurled, but rarely furled.

Why is it suddenly difficult for people to spell “lose”? Seems like everywhere I look, people are sounding out the long “o” sound and spelling it “loose”.

These are the things I think about when I’m stuck on the train with no iPod or reading material.

The Line Just Moved Again

I'm still a fan of so-called "reality" TV and Game Shows, despite some of the recent offerings. Two new shows have lowered the bar, and the line I said I wouldn't cross just keeps moving.

To wit:
Do we really need another Pussycat Doll? It seems that they already have about five members too many in this "band". I suppose it's more titillating to have the half-dressed stripper band audition for a new hoochie mama, which would presumably equal ratings. Then I remembered this show was on The CW (who named this network?), where anything over 100 viewers is considered a good showing. Why a group with one member who has even the slightest bit of music related talent (that would be the lead singer, whose name I am too lazy to even Google) would need another person to compete for face (and midriff, and butt cheek) time in the next video is beyond me, but I guess that's why I'm not a TV executive.

Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?, on the other hand, is a steaming pile of garbage. Forget the fact that in a one hour episode they will ask about six questions. Forget the fact that this show received ridiculously high ratings thanks to the American Idol lead-in. Forget the fact that the kids in the show are obviously pros brought in to act precocious. Forget all of that.

What gets me is that the powers that be feel the need to dumb everything down so much that even the title of the show leaves zero doubt as to what the game is about. it's the same school of thought used in Hollywood whereby any and every sequel needs to be a repeat of the original movie title with a sequential number tacked on the end - obviously American audiences are too stupid to figure out what is going on, and won't see the film.

Honestly, if this show was pitched 10-15 years ago, wouldn't you think the title would've been something a little more creative? Something like Beat The Geniuses, or Whippersnappers! if The Price Is Right was being pitched today by these clowns, it would end up being called Guess The Actual Retail Price, But Don't Go Over! I imagine Jeopardy! would end up as Here's The Answer, What Is The Question?

I wait for the inevitable next game show, soon to appear on Fox/CBS/NBC: Answer These Trivia Question To Win Cash!

Classic Album Corner

Frankie Goes To Hollywood
Welcome To The Pleasuredome
ZTT/Island Records
1984


The saga of Frankie Goes To Hollywood, seen through the prism of time, shows a remarkable example of the full convergence of marketing, hype and music colliding into one big ball at just the right time. Destined to have a short shelf life, Frankie nevertheless milked as much as possible from their moment in time, and produced some of the most memorable records of the 1980’s. Remembered almost as much for the T-Shirts ("Frankie Say...") which popped up all over that summer, the singles went a long way toward justifying the fuss.

The long awaited album, Welcome To The Pleasuredome, followed the enormous success (particularly in the UK) of their first two singles, “Relax” and “Two Tribes”. The themes of the songs, sex and politics, respectively, were common and universal. Match that up with a pulsating, danceable song and you had the recipe for widespread success. Trevor Horn’s impeccable production, along with the proliferation of countless remixes helped keep Frankie on everyone’s radar throughout the summer of ’84. The biggest boost of all came courtesy of the BBC, whose radio division saw the need to ban “Relax” from their airwaves, allegedly after one of the DJ’s looked at the cover of the 12” single and was taken aback. With the forbidden fruit thing now in play, “Relax” surged back to the top ten, and at one point Frankie had both the #1 and #2 songs on the UK Pop Charts. Pleasuredome was scheduled for a fall release, and the factories were allegedly working overtime to press enough vinyl to meet the overwhelming demand.

For the purposes of Classic Album Corner, I’m reviewing the CD version, released in 1988. This was, in my view, a superior release, cleaning up some of the ennui from the original album, and adding preferred remixes in place of single versions.

The record kicks off with what amount to an eighteen minute version of the title track. It’s an epic beginning, with the “Hoo Hah, Hoo HAH” backing vocals along with lead singer Holly Johnson singing about Xanadu and Kubla Khan. A subsequent attempt to make a single out of this just didn’t work, as it seemed to work much better as an extended outing. One couldn’t shake the feeling that the actual band had very little to do with the song, though, as Horn brought in a solid group of backup musicians (including Yes axeman Steve Howe) to augment the band. In that aspect, I tend to view “Frankie” as more than just the five listed members of the band, since without Horn none of this would have been possible.

Of course. “Relax” and “Two Tribes” are here. The album used shortened single versions of each, which were okay. The CD, however, wisely chose the best remix of “Two Tribes”, clocking in at over nine minutes. It remains in my view the most powerful of all the versions, using the disembodied voice which mentions what to do when you hear the air attack warning. It is chilling, theatrical, and danceable all at the same time, and it is nothing short of brilliant.

A cover of Edwin Starr’s “War”, done seemingly to hammer home the point made in “Two Tribes”, was passable, but not much of an improvement over the original. Adding the voice of a Reagan impersonator added some uniqueness, and made it topical at the time, but now dates the record. The band wasn’t done with cover versions, however, not by a long shot. Ranging from campy (“Do You Know The Way To San Jose”) to a tribute to their home city of Liverpool (“Ferry Cross The Mersey”) to downright ballsy (“Born To Run”!), the band handled each with typical aplomb. “San Jose” was left off the CD release, replaced by the gorgeous “Happy Hi”. “Happy Hi” showed a different side to the band, and proved they were capable of more than sexual/political songs. It’s lilting keyboard riff and subdued vocal evokes the feeling of a lazy day in the park.

The album wraps up with what amounts to the remainder of the Frankie original catalog. The tunes are best described as mid-temp mid-80’s white boy funk. “The Only Star In Heaven” and “Black Night White Light” fall into this category. "Wish (The Lads Were Here)" and "Krisco Kisses" maintained the upbeat nature of this section for the record nicely. The closing tune, “The Power of Love”, represents Frankie’s attempt at a lush, sweeping ballad. As expected, the production is excellent, but the lyrics leave something to be desired. Declaring your love for someone is one thing, but mentioning vampires and hooded claws ventures into some freaky territory. The fact that the video for the song was released around Christmas and depicted the Nativity just added to the confusion. Of course, just in case you didn’t get the point yet, the album ends with a audio T-Shirt of the Reagan voice intoning “Frankie Say…..no more”.

Frankie went on to release another record in 1986, the more subdued Liverpool. While a decent follow up effort, it was obviously never going to generate the buzz of Pleasuredome. The band toured in support of the record, then dissolved in 1987 amongst infighting between members. The VH1 show Bands Reuntied did a segment on them, and they all seemed to be pretty happy and well adjusted since the bands demise. Lead singer Holly Johnson, however, proved to be quite the diva, and scuttled the attempted reunion by refusing to perform. Too bad for us Frankie fans, but maybe we’re better off hanging on to the memories from back in the day.


Frankie's Allmusic entry

The Apprentice Finally Jumps The Shark

Wow, another show that was once prime water cooler material looks to be on the verge of biting the dust. The Mark Burnett/Donald Trump egofest, The Apprentice, is taking a ratings beating so far in this, its fifth season.
Now, scheduling could be a big part, as the Sunday night slot doesn’t seem well suited for a reality show like this one. I think it goes a bit beyond that though.

Trump seems to be going off the rails. First, he engages in the public feud with Rosie O’Donnell, as each celebrity ego was unable to simply let things go, engaging in a bitter battle via the media. It wouldn’t be crazy to imagine each one perpetuating the feud to pump up the hype for their respective shows.

Watching the current season, with all of the shakeups both he and Burnett implemented, seems to have thrown the show off balance. Gone are the viceroys we had come to enjoy: George, the loveable, crotchety old guy, and Carolyn, the icy businesswoman who saw through every wannabe who tried to feed corporate-speak bullshit to Trump and Co. when defending a lost task. These two seemed to keep teh show somewhat grounded, and more importantly kept Trump from being completely wacky. Gone was the New York scenery, as the show relocated to Los Angeles. Having the losing team each week sleep outside just strips any semblance of a business related experience out the window, and turns the show into some kind of second rate Survivor. Additionally, the tasks have become mundane to the point of being nothing more than a product placement as subtle as a hammer to the forehead.

Trump himself contradicts himself from week to week, sometimes within the same episode. He rails at one winning project manager turned viceroy (another lame “twist” introduced this season) for not being vocal enough in the boardroom. The next week, when another winning PM is in the chair, and knows what happened to the other guy, he calls her out for being a “hard ass” for simply doing what he apparently wanted.

The nadir might have been in the second episode. The winning team that week got the “reward” of visiting the Playboy mansion, and meeting Hugh Hefner. Forget the fact that the team consisted of six women, one gay man, and one straight guy. The sight of a gross octogenarian in a bathrobe, his three girlfriends, interacting with The Donald created a vortex of gross not seen since Playboy After Dark. The best part: Hef tried to impart his business acumen on the eager young professionals. Let’s see, Hef basically banked on the fact that young males would like to buy a magazine and see girl boobies. Genius! Pay attention kids, you might learn something.

It would not be at all surprising to see the show cancelled once this cycle ends, if not sooner. It seems to have run its course, and no amount of messing with the format can change that. Somehow, Trump will spin the failure as a positive event which he instigated, taking credit for pulling the plug while he was still on top or some such nonsense.

Of course, I’m still watching, but then again, I’m an idiot.

Jump The Shark

Why do people care about this?

Upon learning of the death this week of Anna Nicole Smith, after the news settled in, I found myself thinking of how the news must have reverberated around the halls of a place like, say, the offices at People magazine. I imagine it was something similar to The New York Times after JFK was shot. You know, “drop everything you’re working on and get on this story, stat!”

Smith was not unique in today’s culture of celebrity. By any stretch of the imagination, she didn’t have any particular talent. She was simply a small town girl who was “discovered” in a Wal-Mart or a strip club or some such place. Being physically well endowed, she was able to parlay that into a Playboy layout, etc. From that point on, her life took turns even the most desperate Hollywood screenwriter would find too strange for words. The marriage to the old geezer, the weight gain, the slurred speech laden public appearances, the pregnancy, the death of her son, etc. - all would be dismissed out of hand if pitched by a fledgling young writer. It would simply not be plausible.

Still, despite being a tabloid mainstay, the fact remains that she was not “talented”. She was a “celebrity”, which is a huge distinction. Deeper questions began to rattle around in my head, such as “Why did anyone care what went on in this person’s life?”

Why, indeed?

This culture of celebrity is relatively new, as far as I can tell. I can’t imagine people clamoring to know what Picasso did in his spare time, or writing about who Michelangelo was taking to the orgy. What is it that makes ordinary people care what famous people do when not performing? Is it the fact that you can’t go two steps without hearing or seeing infotainment? In the supermarket while checking out one is bombarded by several publications devoted entirely to the comings and goings of celebs. I’m embarrassed to say that when I’m stuck there I read them too. It’s either that or scan the candy selection and make an unnecessary purchase. If you’re able to avoid that mass of info, you go home, and thwack on the TV. Hmm...not safe here either, as entire channels (E!) are setup to report on this stuff like it’s real news. Dumbed down faux News programs like Inside Edition and Access Hollywood treat any red carpet as if it were a meeting amongst world leaders. What was Jennifer Lopez wearing? Tune in and see!

You keep changing channels, settling on your local news. Ah, some information about stuff and places that are actually relevant to you, right? Wrong – depending on with network which the channel is affiliated, you can expect some promos for an upcoming show, disguised as “news”. There was inevitably be a feature, usually called “people in the News” or something, which goes over the latest celeb stuff. Your favorite newspaper is not immune either, also sporting a section devoted to this information.

The way the word “people” is used sheds some light on this whole phenomenon, doesn’t it? When the magazine started, it purported to be about some ordinary folks like you and me, with celebrity stuff thrown in as well. It has come to mean something more along the lines of People…..who are nothing like you, make more money, live more lavishly, and are just more important and interesting that you could ever hope to be.

I’m not trying to sound like some elitist, really. I admit a casual passing interest in some of this “news”, but I don’t ever find myself seeking it out. There really is no need, as documented above – the “news” finds you (there is a Yakov Smirnoff joke in there somewhere). What I can’t understand is why people see the need to do that. Some theories, straight from the armchair psychologist, are below:

Escapism
Okay, this one might make a little sense. Our lives are full of everyday drudgery and aren’t really that exciting, so why not look in and see what the so anointed celebrities are up to? Their big houses and party lifestyles are something we don’t necessarily aspire to, but love to hear about nonetheless. Still, when taking to the degree we see today, it's just ugly.

Worship
We feel like we know these people, even though we don’t. They come into our homes, ipods, etc. whenever we want. We want to find out as much about them as possible, like we would an actual friend. This starts to border on the creepy if you ask me – I loved Goodfellas, but I don't think Joe Pesci cares what I thought, nor do I feel like I know him. We only know what these people and their handlers want us to know (see, George Clooney was at the Save The Whales benefit – isn’t he a great guy?). When the story inevitably comes out about misdeeds we are shocked, shocked to find that these people aren’t who we thought they were! (O.J., many, many others) The really disturbing aspect is when a person with no discernible talent, like the aforementioned Anna Nicole, as well as Paris Hilton, become people of interest. Their talent is being famous, and it’s a chicken/egg thing after that.

Equalization
Not sure if that is the right word or not, but….when the 24/7/365 celeb “news” culture reveals every little detail about someone’s personal life, it lends itself to humanizing the celebrity. When the bored housewife stuck in a bad marriage sees that even someone as beautiful, rich and famous as Jennifer Aniston can have martial problems with a beautiful, rich and famous husband like Brad Pitt, well, then she can feel that she and Jennifer aren’t really that different, are they? See, Jessica Simpson struggled with acne and a seemingly storybook marriage gone wrong, just like you! Poor Nick Lachey, he gave her his heart and got dumped!

Whatever the reason, it’s all a crock. The only time in my life where the whole celebrity worship machine seemed to grind to a halt was right after 9/11, which turned the focus back on real heroes, and the spirit of people helping each other. Celebs got involved, but downplayed the whole angle and actually used their notoriety in a positive way, to help raise money for relief. It didn’t take very long for things to return to normal. Caring about nothing important became one of the things mentioned that helped get America back to normal. Sigh.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check out E!, they’re about to run a new special, 100 Biggest Fashion Faux pas on the Red Carpet, or something like that. I have some ideas about what will be #1, but I’ll probably kill myself before we get that far.

Classic Album Corner

X
Under The Big Black Sun
(1982)

X burst on to the LA punk scene in 1980 with their raucous debut album, Los Angeles. The follow-up, 1981’s Wild Gift was a critical smash, but alas never received the nationwide airplay it deserved. Calling X a punk band seemed to be a bit of pigeonholing to me – they were at the core a rock band who played at faster tempos. For one thing, the songs of X had actual melodies, unlike much of the hardcore punk from that era. The vocal interplay between then husband and wife John Doe and Exene Cervenka was unlike any other band of the time. The fact that each record was produced by former Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek lent the group a bit of credibility in the “rock” world. (though it was funny to read a letter in Rolling Stone in ’81 or so which decried the current state of music, specifically mentioning a photo of Ray on stage with X that appeared in an earlier issue, which the writer described as “Ray Manzarek playing with some New Wave band”). Give me a break, writer, this band could “rock” circles around the dinosaur acts of the era like The Who, were were retiring, and corporate bland crap like Styx and Journey. (This will have to be an entirely different post, but I do not understand the current wave of nostalgia for Journey. They sucked then, and they suck now, and the passage of time has not changed anything, at least in my eyes. Who enjoys this passionless garbage?)

In early 1982, X made the leap and was signed to a major label, Elektra. This kind of step was often seen as selling out by the hardcore members of the punk scene, but for X it seemed to be the next logical step – they had accomplished everything possible on indie label Slash, and were ready for the big time. If they could garner wider acceptance without compromising their sound (always the most difficult thing for a band to do), everyone would be satisfied.

My first exposure to the group came in early September of 1982. I knew of the band, but no radio station on the East Coast was playing them, so had never actually heard any of their songs. While watching the Jerry Lewis telethon (hey, I was working the late shift, and not much else was on in those pre-cable days), I saw them be introduced by Mr. Lewis. I was thrown for a loop – this was what major labels forced bands to do? I can only imagine the reactions from many of the older folks in the audience and watching at home when Exene took the mic and began to sing. She was really the only member of the band who could be classified as having an odd appearance – the other male members of the band, Doe, Billy Zoom and DJ Bonebrake, looked like very straight arrow types. They performed “Blue Spark”, from their new major label debut record Under The Big Black Sun, and they killed. I was immediately hooked, and wanted to hear more. I ran out the very next day and bought the record. Really, I ran. I was not disappointed, as you can probably tell.

The record kicks off with a bang, as “The Hungry Wolf” launches with Zoom’s powerful lead guitar riff, backed by the steady pounding drums of Bonebrake, and we’re off and running. Doe and Cervenka share the vocals on just about every song, at various times singing with each other, against each other, or one behind the other. This was one of the things that made X’s sound so unique.

While death is a theme which permeates the record, it would be a mistake to assume that X was a dark band obsessed with goth images, etc. As the liner notes indicate, Exene’s sister Mary was killed the previous year in a car accident, and the songs which allude to her are more mournful than anything else. “Riding With Mary” is the most direct, playing off the same name as the Saint while sporting the couplet “The next time you see a statue of Mary/ Remember my sister was in a car”. “Come Back to Me” is a poignant, slow song performed solely by Cervenka, as one imagines it should have been. The rest of the record rocks as hard as ever, even their cover of an old Leadbelly tune “Dancing With Tears In My Eyes”, and grows on the listener with each play.

X followed in 1983 with More Fun In The New World, which also failed to reach the critical mass Elektra had hoped for, though a cover of “Breathless” got a little attention. The band later explored a return to Roots based rock, hooking up with Dave Alvin of the Blasters (eventually making him a member after Zoom’s departure).

To most hard core X fans, Under The Big Black Sun is not even their favorite record (Wild Gift usually get that distinction). For me, there was just the magic of one’s first exposure to a band that makes that particular record the one listened to and cherished the most.


The album was reissued in 2001, and is available on iTunes.
X (AllMusic)

For All 24 Fans

If you watch 24, then damn it, you will love this.