GUILT-FREE PLEASURES (A Defense Against The Dark Arts): R. Dean Taylor, "Indiana Wants Me"

There is really no such thing as a guilty pleasure in pop music. Unless you happen to love neo-Nazi ditties or glorifications of hatred or violence, I'd say it's okay for you to dig whatever you wanna dig. Yes, even the hits of The Eagles. Why? BECAUSE THEY'RE POP SONGS! Guilt-Free Pleasures (A Defense Against The Dark Arts) celebrates pop songs. The guilty need not apply.

R. DEAN TAYLOR: Indiana Wants Me

Written by R. Dean Taylor

Produced by R. Dean Taylor

Single, Rare Earth, 1970

He fought the law, and the law won.

R. Dean Taylor's "Indiana Wants Me" was all over AM Top 40 in 1970, the very year I began listening to radio with more deliberate intent and focus. Is it a guilty pleasure? SPOILER ALERT: no, don't be silly. It's a terrific single, I love it, and I still attempt to sing along with it each time I hear it play.

But let's talk about its story.

"Indiana Wants Me" tells the sad tale of a guy on the run from the police. This fugitive is a murderer; he confesses his guilt in the song's first line, If a man ever needed dyin', he did. We learn immediately that the murder victim had said something inappropriate about the murderer's wife, thus prompting his violent demise and the murderer's status as a wanted man fleeing justice. The murderer has no remorse whatsoever for his crime; his only regret is the pain he's caused his beloved wife, his only real wish that he could see her, their home, and their little baby. One last time. The law catches up with him, he refuses to surrender, and his story ends in a hail of gunfire. 

Pulp as pop. But I think there's even more pulp beneath this story's surface.

For reference, let's give our three principal characters names, just so I can stop calling them "the murderer," "the victim," and "the murderer's wife." I thought of calling them Archie, Reggie, and Veronica, but--let's face it--the Riverdale TV series has done enough damage to those names. I almost went with Pancho, Lefty, and Emmylou, but that woulda been unfair to Emmylou (and besides, Pancho needs your prayers, it's true, but save a few for Lefty, too). So we're gonna go with Manny, Moe, and Jaqueline. Manny is our killer on the run, Moe is his late victim, and Jacqueline is Manny's soon-to-be-widowed wife.

What in the world could Moe have said about Jacqueline that so enraged Manny? No one had the right to say what he said about you. I guess it's possible that Manny's skin was so thin that an offhand comment about our Jacqueline's looks or demeanor ignited homicidal fury. If so, well, it's amazing Manny lived as long as he did before running afoul of the whole Thou shalt not kill thing. Instead, I keep coming back to one line of thought:

What if?

What if Moe said he loved Jacqueline? And what if Moe swore that Jacqueline loved him? Furthermore, what if Moe claimed that he and Jacqueline had consummated their love. Y'know...physically. Bouncy-bouncy.

If a man ever needed dying, he did. How dare Moe tell such an awful lie?

With that, we understand what sparked Manny's sudden rage. We don't excuse it--Manny is very much guilty of murder--but at least we can comprehend what happened. But I say that ain't all.

Because Moe wasn't lying.

Moe and Jacqueline were together. Whether a single night's shaking of the sheets or a long-term affair (or more), Moe and Jacqueline did it, marital vows be damned. 

And I'll add one more little detail: the little baby that Manny wishes he could see, just once more? The baby ain't his. Moe is the father. 

Regardless of R. Dean Taylor's actual real-world intent in crafting the lyrics, I'm convinced that "Indiana Wants Me" is about a guy whose wife cheated on him, and the hijinks that ensued thereafter. Whether Manny is in willful denial of the affair or knows (but won't admit) what really happened, the sins of the flesh led to the mortal sin of murder. And it's so cold and lonely here without you. All that's left is the loss.

And the guilt.

VERDICT: Well, the song's characters are guilty as sin. But the song itself? Innocent, not guilty.

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This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.

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Riverdale, And Graded Expectations

Today's blog will discuss the first episode of the new television series Riverdale. If you haven't seen the show yet--or read a comic book lately--then BEWARE: SPOILERS AHEAD!

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The cast of Riverdale: Veronica (Camila Mendes), Betty (Lili Reinhart), and Archie (K.J. Apa), with Josie (Ashleigh Murray), Jughead (Cole Sprouse), and Cheryl Blossom (Madelaine Petsch) outside lookin' in at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe

Comics fans should be used to seeing their beloved characters change. Even within the comics themselves, things ain't exactly static. If you were a kid who read DC and Marvel Comics in the '60s and '70s, but not since then, you may be surprised to learn that, in current continuity: Spider-Man's alter ego Peter Parker is not a perpetually cash-strapped photojournalist, but a billionaire inventor/CEO; Tony Stark has been replaced as Iron Man by The Fantastic Four's former arch-enemy Dr. Doom; Superman has perished, and has been replaced by both a Superman from another reality and by Lex Luthor; The Hulk is really attorney Jennifer Walters; the original Hulk, Dr. Bruce Banner, was killed by Hawkeye of The Mighty Avengers; Batman has a son, Damien Wayne; before Superman died, he was Wonder Woman's lover (and no, that's not what killed him). Comic books used to offer the illusion of change, while quietly maintaining an internal status quo. But, as these properties have now continued for decades, creators have found it necessary to shake things up more and more.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer still kicks ass, though. But, um, Giles is 13 years old now.

It has always been true that comics characters went through changes when they were adapted into other media. And it's certainly true of the classic Archie characters as they appear in the new TV series Riverdale. Approaching this show has been a weird dichotomy for me: from the previews, it looked to be a potentially interesting series, using the sparkly gimmick of utilizing the names of Archie, Betty, Veronica, et al., but just a gimmick, because these sure didn't seem to be our familiar friends from the comic-book Riverdale; on the other hand, I can't say that I would have even noticed the series if not for the Archie hook. That hook got me, and I've been curious to learn more about Riverdale for months.

And I liked the pilot episode. I liked it a lot.

I've never seen an episode of Dawson's Creek, but I often hear folks say that series provided the matrix for most of the high school dramas that followed. It was an influence on Smallville, the 2001-2011 series that spun the tale of young Clark Kent and his unrequited love for Lana Lang in the years before he became Superman. Riverdale reminds me of Smallville without the super-powers, which probably means Riverdale also draws inspiration from Dawson's Creek.

If Smallville was Dawson's Creek meets, I dunno, The X-Files, then Riverdale could be Dawson's Creek meets Twin Peaks. Because, in addition to the hormonal challenges of teendom, the characters in Riverdale will be dealing with the murder of a fellow high school student, and with the sordid little secrets the people of the town would prefer to keep secret.




In the series, Archie is a nouveau hunk, with freshly-chiseled abs earned in a summer of hard labor in his dad's construction business. His best friend, perfect student Betty Cooper, wants to be far more than just friends; Archie can't think of her that way. (Because this show airs on The CW, we see Betty in her bra and Archie without his shirt within the episode's first few minutes.) His head is turned by the newly-arrived rich girl Veronica Lodge, running from a scandal in New York City, as her financier father Hiram Lodge has been arrested for fraud and embezzlement. Cheryl Blossom in Riverdale, as in the comic books, is devious and manipulating.

And, more than anything, Archie wants to become a musician.

Most of the above falls kinda within the broad parameters of recognized Archie continuity. A studly Archie is a bit of a departure; ol' Arch has traditionally been portrayed as a klutz who is nonetheless never lacking a willing female companion to hug and kiss, but not as a budding potential football star. While Hiram Lodge was never presented as a criminal in the classic comics, he does seem to be a bit more of an amoral weasel in the current comic books. Veronica seems, so far, less pampered and snobbish than we would have expected; if she's not quite a good girl like Betty, she looks like she's trying hard to be good.

But there are more drastic differences between the source material and its prime-time incarnation: during the summer, Archie had a steamy affair with one of his teachers, Ms. Grundy (portrayed here as very much younger and hotter than in previous portraits); Archie and Betty's gay pal Kevin Keller is apparently about to start a strictly-physical relationship with the macho Moose, a character who has always been both straight and violently protective of his girlfriend, Midge; Archie's parents are divorced; Veronica's mom is originally from Riverdale, and she dated Archie's dad when they were both in high school; Betty has an older sister, who is institutionalized; Betty's mom (who I just realized is named Alice Cooper) is a nightmare; the traditionally slacker Jughead is writing a novel; Reggie, at least in the pilot, is kind of obnoxious, but not the full-on jerk we know from the comics, and he seems friendly with Archie; and Cheryl's twin brother, Jason Blossom, took a bullet in the head, setting up the murder mystery that will presumably be central to Riverdale's first-season events.

Archie purists have every right to reject Riverdale. Hell, I know I was pissed with the producers of Gotham, the TV show about the boy who grows up to be Batman, because they so thoroughly screwed up the character of Silver St. Cloud, and took many other questionable liberties with the Batman mythos. But I forgave Gotham; there've been missteps, but it's generally been a pretty interesting series. And I accept Riverdale as a different, but valid take on the Archieverse. The characters have changed in some ways, their circumstances have changed in many more ways, but they're still recognizable, still Archie, Betty, Veronica. Those familiar names and faces give Riverdale its center, allowing its storyline to unfold and entice.

So, Riverdale: I'm in. Pour some sugar on me. And Archie...well, I'd ask you to keep your shirt on, but that ain't happenin' on The CW. But stay true to the character we know and love. You'll fall short sometimes; you'll make wrong decisions, and you'll do the wrong thing. You're human, even if you're just a TV character based on a comic book. But you'll keep trying. And you'll get it right sometimes, too.

And, Arch, my man--give Betty another look already.

Riverdale

As I write this, I have not yet seen the pilot episode of Riverdale--a presumably dark 'n' gritty re-interpretation of the classic Archie comic books--which debuted on The CW network Thursday night. Since I haven't seen it, this certainly isn't a review. This is just an examination of the preconceptions and expectations a comics fan (like me!) can bring to an adaptation of a beloved four-color property.

First, I have to say I've been looking forward to Riverdale for many months, ever since it was first announced. The show is produced by Greg Berlanti, and I enjoy three of Berlanti's four existing comics-inspired TV shows, Arrow, The Flash, and Supergirl; I also watch his other comics show, DC's Legends Of Tomorrow, but haven't gotten into it quite as much as I've liked the others. The current revamped Archie comic book is one of my favorite titles, and the framework and continuity set by Archie comic book writer Mark Waid would make for a pretty damned good television series. I kinda thought Riverdale would be something along those lines, but all trailers and promotion for the show have indicated that Riverdale is clearly not intended to be anything at all like that.

Maybe that's okay. I'm not sure.



There's a dichotomy, maybe even a tug-of-war in play here. The trailers for the series are interesting, intriguing...and plainly not the Archie we know. That's fair; there are traditional Archie fans (my daughter among them) who don't care for the characters' recent comics makeover, just as I have occasionally been dismissive and/or hostile to various brain-dead takes on Batman over the years. Like Batman, Archie can be open to different creative interpretations. My favorite comic book in 2016 was Archie Meets Ramones, which depicted the traditional Archies alongside Joey, Johnny, Dee Dee, and Tommy. I was able to enjoy that (and how!) while still digging the current ongoing Archie continuity. Similarly, I enjoy both the campy Batman of Batman '66 and Batman: The Brave And The Bold and the fearsome Dark Knight of other Batman adventures in comics and films.

But, as a Batman fan, I probably wouldn't care about, say, a plainclothes detective who calls himself Batman, or an assassin who calls himself Batman, or a Batman sitcom, or a psychotic Batman, or a Nazi Batman, or a masked cowboy Batman. Well, that last one actually sounds kinda cool. But those others? They're not Batman. Those interpretations would violate my idea of what Batman is supposed to be.

One could say the current Archie comics aren't what Archie is supposed to be, though I would disagree; the narrative style has changed, but these are clearly, identifiably the classic characters taken seriously. One could also say that Riverdale isn't what Archie is supposed to be, either; that's a bit more difficult to dispute. Many have already compared Riverdale to David Lynch's quirky, violent, prurient, and deliberately weird TV series Twin Peaks. I'm pretty sure that no previous Archie incarnation has ever been compared to Twin Peaks before.

As a (theoretical) grown-up who still immerses himself in all this stuff that was originally created to be juvenile entertainment, I'm well aware of how we've stretched, contorted, and wrestled these characters away from the kids that were supposed to be the target audience. Still, one wonders just how much we can change these properties, mix 'em up, make them all relevant and adult and edgy, and still retain some line of sight to the source material.




When I was in my late 20s, I wrote a parody of Archie, a mock Rolling Stone interview with dissipated former pop star Archie Andrews. I submitted it to National Lampoon, and it was sent back quicker'n Jughead Jones could scarf down a plate of cheeseburgers at Pop's Chok'lit Shoppe. A note said that the editors couldn't touch Archie for legal reasons. Even if we disregard NatLamp's apparent fear of lawsuits, I can't honestly say whether or not my piece could have or should have been considered. Was it funny? I thought so at the time. It was also puerile and rude, delighting in the supposedly hilarious mash-up of our square ol' Archie now drunk, disgusting, and solely interested in pursuing carnal sheet-shakin' with Cyndi Lauper, Whitney Houston, and Madonna.

I was so proud of my clever, acerbic wit. I disavow the stupid thing now.

Riverdale reminds me of that foolish, childish thing I wrote decades ago. And that's probably not a fair comparison. It's an officially-licensed adaptation, not a lampoon or fanfic, and it looks like it's really well done. But it still wallows in the odd juxtaposition of those familiar characters of Archie, Jughead, Betty, Veronica, et al., with subjects like murder, sex, corruption, illicit intrigue, the girl-girl titillation of Betty and Veronica kissing, and the seamy sensationalism of a rumored subplot involving Archie having an affair with his teacher, Miss Grundy (albeit a far younger, hotter version of Miss Grundy than we've ever seen before--it is The CW, after all).

Sarah Habel plays Miss Grundy on Riverdale. Yep.

Ultimately, that's it, really: it is The CW, It needs to have youngish male and female heartthrobs cavorting, ideally without their shirts on. Riverdale could be The Vampire Diaries or whatever; it's not about Archie, it's about a demographic. Tying it all to a familiar name and property just makes it easier to sell...if we're buying.

I'm not an Archie purist. I'll watch Riverdale, I'll probably even like Riverdale, and I'll try to judge it on its own merits, divorced from the expectation of what an Archie adaptation should be. But let's not pretend this is Archie. Even old man Weatherbee would know better than that.



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