Say do you remembah?

It’s the 21st night of September .. sort of.

Here’s a little ditty about it.

Gone are the days when musicians actually wrote their own songs AND played their own instruments.

EW&F’s music still works after all these years. What’s the word I’m looking for? Oh yeah, CLASSIC.

Enjoy!

The Daily Earworm

Pick one or two or all of them. Whatever floats your boat.

I’ve given you a selection, depending on which year brings you the bestest/worst memories. In other words, I’m fucking with you and enjoying every damn minute of it.

#1 Mr. Leo Sayer. Nothing says secksy more than a Jew-fro, white duds and an adenoid-killing falsetto.

#2 Mr. Cliff Richard.

I had the pre-teen lady bits shivers back in the day for him — way before Rex Smith and Andy Gibb ended up on my bedroom walls. Cliff paved the way for my Marcia Marcia Marcia/Davey Jones crushes. However, prior to Cliff, there was Elton but my heart was busticated when it was revealed to me that Reginald preferred peen. I still loved his music, but his love for all things male stopped me from planning our huge county club wedding. (side note: My first rock concert was Sir Elton at the now-defunct Chicago Stadium. KiKi Dee showed up too. Elton tossed piano benches into the audience. Got a contact high from the hairdos in front of us who were smokin’ doobies with their parents. I got gum in my hair. I was ten.)

#3 Rex Smith. One of my oldest friends on this rock, Heather, and I would spend hours listening to the dulcet tones of Rex in her bedroom in the large house her family owned in the woods of Wayne. Heather was SO lucky because she OWNED THE RECORD. I was in awe of her because of that, and well, many other things.

This is my fave MOW ever, and Heather, I’m SO gonna marry Rex Smith someday. You can be my maid of honor and throw rice at us as we speed away in Rex’s Camaro.

#4 Andy Gibb.

I loved him so much I even named my horse after one of his songs. Let’s see if you can guess which one. (Hint: It’s not the one below)

He wrote this song for me, you know.

#5 Brothers Johnson.

I love the tummy gurgling sounds at the beginning of this tune. Makes me wanna pee.

There ain’t anything better on Earth than classic R&B music.

#6 FUCK YOU.

Coming soon: The Daily Earworm: Ladies’ Night

Weller, Paul Weller

Some folks dig the Beatles. Others dig the Dead. Many like me dig Zappa and Mary J.

However, I dig Paul Weller most of all.

Paul Weller

Weller is an incredible song writer and a musician. Yes, he’s a rare bird–he sings and plays things like gee-tars–at the same time! It’s madness!

In this day and age with all of that horrible screeching that people consider singing (I blame “American Idol”), and the use of the shit-blanket auto-tune, it’s a comfort to know that singer/songwriters are somewhere … out there … still making great music. They might not be pretty, but hot damn, they know how to write great lyrics and play real instruments. Granted, he doesn’t have the best voice, but his talent as both a lyricist and musician make up for his sleepy voice.

Weller gets it right every damn time he puts pen to paper and a pick to strings.

Here’s a sampling, but I suggest you check out the album “Wildwood” — you won’t be disappointed.

Plus, he puts on one helluva live show.

The Weaver — lyrics by Paul Weller.

Can you put a smile back on, all these faces
Of all the people from such different places
And if you can succeed, what then will you achieve,
With a different tune to play, you’ve been saving for a rainy day

Will you heal the scar that’s on, the years been wasted
The tears spent of the past, just filling spaces
Or is love forever gone, banished to a smaller part
Hide behind your wall and start, to get to the very heart

An’ if you wanna shoot the moon, make sure that you know why
Careful, fly too soon, better let someone else try

I’m the weaver of your dreams, I get rid of your bogeyman
I’m here to smash the shell you’re under, an’ get you into another thing

I’m the weaver of your dreams, I put paid to the rocket men
I’m here to break the spell you’re under, an’ get you started with another plan

Could you put a kiss back on, the lips so twisted
Waiting for the chance to start, dipping into wishes
Or is love forever gone, banished to a smaller part
Hide behind your wall and start, to get to the very heart

And in the midst of the darkest night
Think of me and hold me tight
So that I might live to see
All the weaving of my dreams

Country — lyrics by Paul Weller

I know a place not far from here
Where lifes sweet perfume fills the air
And if you want I’ll take you there
If you want I’ll take you there

Into the light out of the dark
Where only love can heal your heart
And if you want I’ll make a start
If you want I’ll make a start

This place I say – half hour away
Is that so far to go – so near
And further on we’ll find the time
And lose the discontent we feel – that we feel

I feel the time we’ve yet to reach
Is not yet within our own belief
But I feel sure that time’ll come
If it goes on at all, said – if it goes on at all, whoa – if it goes on at all, 
hey – it goes on and on and on and on 

I know a place not far from here
Where fresh cut grass will fill your hair
And if you want we’ll lay a while there
If you want we’ll lay a while there
If you want we’ll lay a while there.

Enjoy.


“Just call on me baby …”

I’ll be the first to admit that I am not a huge Whitney Houston fan.

Let me rephrase that: I’m not a big fan of that type of poppy, over-synthesized, played-on-one-instrument-and-one-instrument-only music.

Sure, the tunes are catchy, but lack the complicated layers I’m used to hearing a la Steely Dan, old Elton John, CCR, Zappa, Aretha, Gladys Knight, etc. Also, I enjoyed Ms. Houston’s voice when she was singing without all of the vocal gymnastics — showing off her vocal range instead of keeping it simple. Even with a voice like hers, simpler was always better.

Ms. Houston had a huge fan base that encompassed the entire world — and that’s a huge accomplishment –which garners a lot of respect from a hard-ass like me. She has tried and true fans even though she cancelled shows and the years of drug abuse came through in her voice — thinning it out to the point where she almost sounded like Leonard Cohen on a good day. Well, maybe not that dramatic, but you catch my drift.

Here’s my fave Whitney Houston song — she rocks it. Having good lyrics will do that to a voice and it helps a lot that Babyface co-wrote ’em. Plus the video is great too. She inspired me to buy and actually wear black velvet leggings back in the day.

Hope you find peace.