Saturday, February 27, 2010

The 100 Best Singles In My Head
Nos. 36-40

By coincidence, all of today's songs were from late 70s or early 80s New Wave. I had just moved to New York, I had money to go to clubs and concerts, and I proceeded to do so with total abandon. These aren't just singles for me -- I bought the artists' albums too, I saw them perform live, and my associations run a lot deeper than the Obvious Hits.

[Click on the highlighted links to read my earlier posts on those songs]

36. "Steppin' Out" / Joe Jackson (1982)
Oh, Joe, Joe, Joe. We'd heard his earlier hits, pleasing pop tracks like "Is She Really Going Out With Him?", but when Night and Day came out, I realized we were in the presence of An Important Artist.

37. "Psycho Killer" / The Talking Heads (1977)
Having moved to Manhattan, I settled into a pack of music-loving friends -- all editorial peons at various magazines in Midtown -- who'd meet up after work on summer evenings and head for Central Park and the Dr. Pepper Music Festival at Wollman Rink. On August 16, 1979, we were dying to see the Talking Heads perform their geeky brand of art-school rock. More Songs About Buildings and Food had just dropped; we were mad for it, especially their herky-jerky cover of Al Green's "Take Me To the River." That night, however, it was this song -- their 1977 debut single -- that really riveted me (the Summer of Sam was only two years past; it still touched a nerve). Though there were three other band members on stage -- Chris on drums, Jerry on organ, waiflike Tina on bass -- you really couldn't tear your gaze away from David Byrne, like a stick-figure in brown trousers and short-sleeved plaid shirt. It wasn't so much that he had stage presence; it was more the utter lack of stage presence, as he clutched the mike stand, stared at the crowd with his enormous Seth Brundle eyes, scrubbed a few harsh notes out of his guitar, and yelped these strange lyrics in a strangulated voice. "Psycho killer!" he gasped, "qu'est-ce que c'est?" (I'd be lying if I said that David Byrne's French was as enticing as Paul McCartney's in "Michelle"). Then, over nothing but persistent drum thuds, he stammered like Otis Redding on angel dust, "Fa-fa-fa fa fa-fa fa-fa-fa fa, better / Run run run run run run run away." Who had any idea what it meant? But that didn't stop us from singing along like mad, and flinging our heads up and down in ritual New Wave spastic dance jerks.

38. "Love Shack" / The B-52s (1989)
I always associate these two bands, though on the surface they were total opposites -- uptight arty intellectuals (Talking Heads) versus giddy drama queens (the B-52's). Maybe it's because we saw them both in the same week in 1980, again at the Dr. Pepper Festival in Central Park (and me with a completely different boyfriend). One thing you have to say for the B-52s, they're always fun to watch, with Fred Schneider doing his lounge lizard act in front, beehived Kate Pierson and Cindy Wilson bouncing around madly on either side. I always felt somehow that they were my friends, kindred spirits, like so many of us outsiders who came to New York to have fun as much as to make good. I too grieved in 1985, when Cindy's brother Ricky Wilson -- whose dynamic guitar work supplied most of the band's instrumentals -- died of AIDS-related illness. The B-52s could have packed it in after that; they'd pretty much done the novelty act to death. But wonder of wonders, they didn't; Keith Strickland just moved from drums to guitar and the carnival kept on going. Instead of high-concept songs about outer space, novelty dances, and crustaceans, they just relaxed into their Southern dance groove. Although the album Cosmic Thing came along much later, to me it's the fullest expression of who my friends the B-52s really are. In "Deadbeat Club" we joined the girls as they danced in the garden in torn sheets in the rain; in "Love Shack" we jumped in the back of Fred's car ("Hop in my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale / And it's about to set sail!") and cruised down some back country Georgia road to a dilapidated juke joint. There's no story, just impressionistic details flung around (if this were a film, it'd be shot with a handheld camera) -- there's a line outside, a secret knock at the door, and everybody inside is peeling off their clothes and dancing with total abandon. A tinny surf guitar jangles, and there's party glitter everywhere -- mattress, highway, front porch, hallway. Fred, Kate, and Cindy hand the vocal duties back and forth, their overlapping phrases really more percussion than anything. "The whole shack shimmies!" Fred exclaims; "Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby," Kate and Cindy croon in harmony; "funky little shack, FUNK-y little shack," Fred raps out. They begin to tap quietly on the door, but the tom-toms build and build, and they're knocking louder and louder ("bang, bang, bang, on the door baby"), until Fred cries, "You're WHAT" and Cindy sasses back, "Tin RROOOFF, rusted!" And no, that phrase didn't mean she was pregnant -- Cindy claims she just made it up, picturing the rusty roof of the original cabin. It's all delirious nonsense, but sung with deep affection. "Love Shack" turned out to be their one big mainstream hit. But even in 1980, the band we saw in Central Park was the same whacked-out crew of kids from the love shack, cruising north in the Chrysler. The party still hasn't stopped.

39. "Whip It" / Devo (1980)
The term "novelty song" should have applied to this out-of-left-field 1980s hit -- but we New Wave insiders knew that its high-concept kitsch was the Next Big Thing.

40. "Roadrunner (Once)" / Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers (1976)
Funny that I had to go all the way to England to hear this eccentric, magical record by Boston's own Jonathan Richman. The nascent New Wave scene in London went mad for this single in 1977; being the only person in the room who'd actually driven on Route 128 and gone to the Stop and Shop gave me major cachet. It was like some eerie late-night connection . . . .

9 comments:

nat said...

So happy to see "Roadrunner" in the mix. WHat a fab song. I, too, have been to Stop and Shop and have driven on 128 when it's dark outside! Still do!

Alex said...

I heard a version of "Roadrunner" once that had a spoken monologue at one point where Richman says "I could walk past the Stop & Shop or I could drive past the Stop & Shop... I'd rather drive past the Stop & Shop" but I'm not sure anymore what version that might have been.

Holly A Hughes said...

I think there are several versions of Roadrunner out there, recorded with various incarnations of the Modern Lovers on different record labels. That monologue sounds familiar to me. The amateur sloppiness all seems part of Richman's aesthetic, doesn't it? Love love love it.

wwolfe said...

"Roadrunner" is a perfect song to play if you're in a garage band. Two chords - if you play them in A then all you play is A and D, the two easiest open chords, so the strings really ring out. You kind of strum along on the A, and there's the perfect syncopation on the D - Blam!Blam! - like you're punching the accelerator while you cruise Route 128. Not much skill required, just lots of enthusiasm. Of your other Picks to Click, my fave B-52s' song by far is "Roam." A wonderful expression about the urge for adventure, and also a warm, goodhearted metaphor for sex: "Take it hip to hip, rockin' through the wilderness/Around the world, the trip begins with a kiss." Nice. kate Pierson maks fab contributions to my favorite album from the Aughts, the "Lost Lennon & McCartney" compilation that came out several years ago. Her version of Paul's "Nobody I Know" is breathtakingly lovely.

Dave K. said...

I will just add my voice to the Roadrunner chorus! The original recorded in 73 and released in 76 or so is the best version. It's on the album that is attributed to To the Modern Lovers.

Holly A Hughes said...

Funny that Roadrunner is the one of these tracks that everybody's commenting on. I'd expected to get at least one Joe Jackson fanatic speaking up . . .

Dave K. said...

I absolutely love the Night and Day album (when it came out and ever since) and almost everything Joe Jackson recorded up to that point.

I have to say that loving the Night and Day album made me feel just a little middle aged and I was only 21 at the time. Could Perry Como be next :-) ? Fortunately not.

Holly A Hughes said...

I think Joe Jackson must be a double agent working for some underground jazz promotion league. After Night and Day, I found myself listening to a LOT more jazz. (While Joe himself drifted into film music and other borderline projects.) While I never went so far as Perry Como ;D I certainly had a Nat King Cole thing going on for a while there.

Dave K. said...

Nat is cool. Joe followed in the jazz direction with his next release Body and Soul. I love the fact that he appropriated the cover of Sonny Rollins Vol 2, a classic album and a great Blue Note cover:

http://www.amiright.com/album-covers/sonny-rollins-volume-2-parodies/