MORE COWBELL!

well yesterday, i did talk about songs that made me feel like i’m at a party. this is one of those songs that qualifies. and how. got to give it up (part 1) is a song by marvin gaye, a dude who was killed by his own dad  (which definitely gives one pause) way before his time.

frankly, i could do a month of songs i love by marvin gaye, but then i’d probably hear tumbleweeds flying across my blog. (unless, of course, i wrote about let’s get it on and provided some sort of references that would bring in the porn crowd. of course, according to my stats, they end up here anyway, probably thanks to my potty mouth. no matter.)

so let me stick to got to give it up. girlfriend loves  a song about shy guys, and this one concerns shy marvin (like i’d believe that) and his fear of the dance floor. fortunately, the groove gets him going and he and his bell bottoms live happily ever after… well, happily enough, in between two divorces, court dates, drug addiction, and his dad taking him out with a gun he had given pops a few months prior. [note to self: firearms make terrible presents.]

::going back to my happy place::

ehem. so, as i was saying. it’s a party song. i love me a good party. and i prefer the image of marvin dancing around as opposed to marvin rockin’ a coffin. hell, the song was so good, both michael AND the jacksons stole from it for later 70s hits.  (let’s dance/let’s shout/get funky what it’s all about! was not written by tito and the gang; it came from marvin.)

it’s not political like some of his work. it’s not even remotely grrrrrrrowly like some of his other work.

but it’s got a good beat. you can dance to it.

not to be confused with the movie of the same name…

some kind of wonderful is actually a cover song for grand funk, much like another monster hit, the loco-motion. it’s hard for me to choose which one i love better so i flipped a coin. (sue me; i don’t have to be logical. it’s my blog, after all.) kudos to one of my secret boyfriends todd rundgren who produced this LP for the band. it made them commercial, it made them real, all at the same time.

anyway, i was a wee lass of 9 when this song came out. it doesn’t bring back a specific memory, you should know. i just know that if this song comes out, it is impossible for me to be in a crap mood. (i know. you’re all disappointed i had nothing cynical to say about it. you know, the glass is sometimes half-full, people. it just is.)

and the loco-motion just makes me want to shake my ass. the production makes it sound like it’s live from someone’s basement party. there are songs that sound like they’re emanating from someone else’s good time; and whenever i hear them, it makes me feel like i’m at the party, too.

so there. i’m not being cynical. i’m just feeling happy. some kind of wonderful, you might say.

the unsolved mystery of the bleeped song… not solved here of course, but part of my memories nonetheless.

i must confess, i adore steve miller band’s 1970s output. i spent hours trying to figure out what the pompatus of love was; i nearly injured myself clapping along with take the money and run;  i loved the eerie goofiness of space cowboy; and i wondered why central jersey girls didn’t get their own special shout-out in keep on rockin’ me.  (don’t get me started on his ’80s output: i am horrified whenever i think of  the rhyme abra, abracadabra, i wanna reach out and grab ya.)

but  jet airliner is probably my favorite of his songs. i could never decide which version i liked better:the AM version i heard on my beloved 77 WABC played a line from the song as funky kicks going down in the city. well, of COURSE they did on AM radio. but on progressive FM stations back in the day, the song was played with it’s original lyrics in it’s original cussing glory: funky shit going down in the city.

in fact, i am mystified by my local FM station (which is about as progressive as someone’s grandpa and as local as McDonalds is, of course; a franchise of some uber national conglomerate), which simply bleeps the word shit. what gives? most of the people who remember the song remember the word shit in it and don’t care. but somehow, the worm has turned and bowdlerization is in order. Dog forbid the kids hear the word shit; nevermind the fact that they often listen to the latest misogynistic and violent music without blinking an eye.

ah well. i always think of my days at leonard baer day camp when i hear jet airliner. ah, the days of playing a game called skibble with shaved-down checkers; swimming lessons; plenty of sports; color war; and the inevitable camp out. 1977, when jet airliner was out, was my last year as a camper; and i remember the camp out vividly. we returned from an evening hayride to see our tents all pulled down and messed about. a radio show came on, warning us that the jersey devil was seen in the area. kids were crying.

i wasn’t.

i recognized the guy on the so-called radio show.  it was my big brother BTD and his  radio voice. i immediately figured things out and stayed quiet. eventually, the proverbial jig was up and all was well. but what fun!

i can’t find a camp like that around here for my kids. every camp is specialized: soccer camp, science camp, skating camp, harry potter camp, etc. it’s a pity. cos every time i hear steve miller telling me he has to be moving on, i realize that time has moved on, too. the world is a different place. too afraid, perhaps, of liabilities (hell, when our camp bus broke down, we WALKED a half mile to the pool and no one managed to get run over in the road!); too afraid of kids losing their educational edge in the summers; too afraid of simple fun.

for better or worse, this song immediately brings me back to those times. i wistfully remember them, and i sadly think about how my kids will probably never experience them.

remember – sedaka is back….

never was hot. never was sexy. but neil sedaka, a nice jewish boy from brooklyn, always had a golden touch with pop during the 50’s, 60’s and even the 70’s. don’t get me wrong: i loathed a lot of that sappy crap: calendar girl (which i always hear calendar cat from the old purina commercial in my head whenever it plays), oh! carol (written for carole king, his old girlfriend), and breaking up is hard to do, a song he recycled and made into a hit again about 20 years after the first time. and that’s just some of his solo repertoire. (it doesn’t scratch the surface of the hits he wrote for other people, too. including that little captain and tennille number.)

so yes, i have a great deal of respect for neil sedaka, in spite of the fact that i don’t care for a lot of his creative output. he deserves to be in the rock and roll hall of fame, methinks. just because he doesn’t rock like, say, ozzy osbourne, it doesn’t mean he didn’t make a significant contribution to rock and roll.

but see, there is this one song, a song he sings with this guy i kinda adore, sir elton john. you’d think i’d hate bad blood — it’s all about denigrating some woman who apparently did sedaka wrong.  lord knows the lyrics made no sense to me when i was a 10 year old belting it out to anyone who couldn’t get in their earplugs fast enough. but it rocks in it’s own evil way. of course, i never quite like it as much when someone else is singing the backup vocals, so maybe there’s something to be said for my being a big elton john fan. but still. love it.

of course, the only better thing about bad blood is kitty and eric from that 70’s show singing it.

happy new year, y’all. nursing that hangover? well, if you want more pain, feel free to peruse my magical month of blatantly bad 70s songs. it will make your ears bleed.

but seriously, it’s a new year. it’s time to turn over a new leaf. one of the leaves i am working on is being kinder to the people out there in blog land. you know, the patient people who manage to endure my blatherings. (the people who probably wanted to smack me back in november.) hint: YOU.

and you know, all wasn’t horrid in 70s pop music. in fact, i have quite a few guilty pleasures. maybe you’ll like them, too? (then again, maybe you’ll laugh me off the face of the internet.)

so, all this month, i will try to feature songs i actually LURVE from the 1970s. of course, i run the risk of having people hate those, too.

but it’s my blog; and i’ll blather if i want to.

you’re welcome to put your polyester huck-a-poo shirt back on and take the ride.

and, as always, i take requests.