This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 951

I'm a cork on the ocean

We play the music, in tribute to our dreams, to our friends, to our best imagined versions of ourselves. Plus, y'know, so's we can dance with our dates. We remember those who have moved on. We celebrate those around us who achieve milestones, benchmarks, and brass rings. We look to the times that have been festive in our past, and hope we can connect with that festive spirit yet again.

I'm a rock in a landslide

The holiday season can be difficult for many. Hell, every day can be difficult. But feelings of disconnection from all that might be light become even more focused when the lights shine brightest on so many, and don't seem to shine at all for others. There is no cure for this. There is no light than can dispel all darkness.

I'm a leaf on a windy day
Pretty soon I'll be blown away

But little things can help. We remember. We celebrate. We play the music. Maybe we dance.

This week's casual exercise in defying the dark celebrated our pal Steve Stoeckel on his retirement (and thanks to intrepid TIRnRR listener Michael Mitsch for comin' up with that concept). We remembered the late Tim Marks on his birthday weekend (with our broadcast beams aimed straight for Michigan, and his love for our listener and friend Dominique King). And we acknowledged the coming of--one hopes--a season of light with our first Christmas spins of the year. The Monkees' new album Christmas Party came out in October, but I didn't even break the seal on the CD until Thanksgiving night; I refuse to listen to Christmas music before Black Friday at the earliest. The wait was worth it for "House Of Broken Gingerbread," a willfully angst-laden Yuletune told from the view of a child of divorced parents, written by novelist Michael Chabon and producer Adam Schlesinger and sung with gusto by the mighty Micky Dolenz. Lovely new holiday offerings from The JAC and The Forty Nineteens stuffed our stocking properly, at least by the standards of November. We'll have a couple of more Christmas tracks to debut next week.

These things I'll be until I die

We play records. We're here every week. We're here for us, and we're here for you. Turn it up. You're among friends.

NEXT WEEK: our Featured Act will be our friends Vegas With Randolph. And this is what rock 'n' roll radio sounded like on a Sunday night in Syracuse this week. We'll leave a light on. Always.

This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl, Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse on The Spark WSPJ-LP 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/

Spark Syracuse is supported by listeners like you. Tax-deductible donations are welcome at http://sparksyracuse.org/support/

You can follow Carl's daily blog Boppin' (Like The Hip Folks Do) at 
https://carlcafarelli.blogspot.com/

Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes, Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it at https://tinyurl.com/ycnly8oz Digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) now available at https://tinyurl.com/ycauy9xt

TIRnRR # 951: 11/25/18

THE RAMONES: Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio? (Rhino, End Of The Century)
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THE MONKEES: House Of Broken Gingerbread (Rhino, Christmas Party)
NICK LOWE: So It Goes (Yep Roc, Quiet Please...)
THE MC5: Shakin' Street (Rhino, The Big Bang!)
XTC: Respectable Street (Virgin, Upsy Daisy Assortment)
THE BEACH BOYS: 'Til I Die (Capitol, Sunflower/Surf's Up_
BUFFALO SPRINGFIELD: Sit Down I Think I Love You (Rhino, Buffalo Springfield)
--
THE STEVE STOECKEL RETIREMENT PARTY SET!
THE RAMONES: It's Not My Place (In The 9 To 5 World) (Rhino, Pleasant Dreams)
DAVE BRUBECK QUARTET: Take Five (Columbia, Time Out)
THE VOGUES: Five O'Clock World (Varese Sarabande, The Best Of The Vogues)
THE VENTURES: Hawaii Five-O (EMI, Walk--Don't Run)
MICHAEL MITSCH & LAGANSLOVE: Freedom (unreleased)
THE SPONGETONES: Goodbye (Black Vinyl, Oh Yeah!)
Congratulations, Steve!
--
CAR CITY: Soul Jam (n/a, Car City)
RAY PAUL: I Need Your Love Tonight (Kool Kat Musik, VA: This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4)
KISS: Detroit Rock City (Mercury, The Best Of KISS)
SWEET: Ballroom Blitz (Capitol, The Best Of Sweet)
SMOKEY ROBINSON & THE MIRACLES: The Tears Of A Clown (Motown, VA: Hitsville, USA)
THE JAM: Down In The Tube Station At Midnight (Polydor, Direction Reaction Creation)
--
POPDUDES: I'm Stone In Love With You (Pop Geek Heaven, Maximum Rock Stupidity)
TELEVISION: Elevation (Elektra, Marquee Moon)
SIMON & GARFUNKEL: For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her (Columbia, Old Friends)
THE FACES: Ooh La La (Warner Brothers, Ooh La La)
THE SEX PISTOLS: Pretty Vacant (Virgin, Kiss This)
THE DAMNED: Smash It Up (Part 2) (Sanctuary, Smash It Up)
--
VEGAS WITH RANDOLPH: She's An Intellectual (Caged Giant, Legs & Luggage)
GRAHAM PARKER & THE RUMOUR: Mercury Poisoning (Spectrum, The Very Best Of Graham Parker & The Rumour)
THE JAC: December (joealgeri.bandcamp.com)
THE JOHNNY POPSTAR LUV EXPLOSION: Lizzy The Supermarket Drag Queen (n/a, Lizzy The Supermarket Drag Queen)
BOB SEGER & THE LAST HEARD: East Side Story (Hideout, single)
LULU: The Boat That I Row (Rhino, From Crayons To Perfume)
--
THE DRIFTERS: On Broadway (Atlantic, All-Time Greatest Hits & More)
MERRY CLAYTON: Gimme Shelter (Columbia, VA: 20 Feet From Stardom OST)
THE MOODY BLUES: Tuesday Afternoon (Forever Afternoon) (Deram, Days Of Future Passed)
HINDU LOVE GODS: Raspberry Beret (Rhino, WARREN ZEVON: Genius)
LISA MYCHOLS: He's Got Me Dreaming (Strataplastic, Sugar)
WARREN ZEVON: Poor Poor Pitiful Me (Rhino, Genius)
--
THE FORTY NINETEENS: It's Christmas Time Again (thefortynineteens.bandcamp.com)
THE BEATLES: I Feel Fine (Capitol, single)
HOT NUN: Livin' A Dirty Mind (n/a, Born To Blaze)
THE BEATLES: Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand (Apple, Past Masters)
BUCK OWENS & HIS BUCKAROOS: Who's Gonna Mow Your Grass (Rhino, 21 # 1 Hits)
THE BEATLES: Sie Liebt Dich (Swan, single)
--
THE BOB SEGER SYSTEM: 2 + 2 = ? (Capitol, single)
DR. FEELGOOD: I Don't Mind (Rhino, VA: Classic Punk)
THE KINKS: Better Things (Sanctuary, The Ultimate Collection)
THE CLASH: I Fought The Law (Epic, Clash On Broadway)
EYTAN MIRSKY: This Year's Gonna Be Our Year (M-Squared, Year Of The Mouse)
THE STRANGLERS: No More Heroes (Rhino, Classic Punk)
SIMON & GARFUNKEL: Homeward Bound (Columbia, Old Friends)
BIG STAR: I'm In Love With A Girl (Stax, The Best Of Big Star)
THE GO-GO'S: Surfing And Spying (IRS, Return To The Valley Of The Go-Go's)

Tonight On THIS IS ROCK 'N' ROLL RADIO

Hey, we got a radio show! It's occasionally pretty good. Tonight's pursuit of adequacy includes a track from the new limited-release from Popdudes, the TIRnRR debut of Car City, a special set dedicated to a friend of TIRnRR, and new holiday tunes from The JAC and The Forty Nineteens. Holiday music? Yeah, it's legal now, per intrepid TIRnRR listener Rich Firestone. Which means we open the show with a track from The Monkees' new album Christmas Party. Ho? Ho. HO! Sunday night, 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at Spark! WSPJ-LP 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HIT (B-Side Appreciation): "Surfing And Spying"

Before mp3, CD, and cassette singles, a hit record was always a 45. The A-Side had the hit. The B-Side? Sometimes it was a throwaway. Sometimes it was something more.



THE GO-GO'S: "Surfing And Spying"
IRS, 1981; A-SIDE: "Our Lips Are Sealed"

I don't really consider myself a collector. I know, I know--there is an abundance of evidence to suggest I'm delusional when I say that. I have stacks and stacks of records (LPs and 45s, CDs, cassettes, some flexi-discs, one Bay City Rollers eight-track), books, comic books, magazines, DVDs, VHS tapes, and probably some other miscellaneous ephemera I've forgotten in the moment. I like stuff, cool stuff. Nonetheless, I'm generally more into the heady experience such stuff intrinsically supplies--the sound of the music, the thrill of the word, the rush of images on screen, the BAM-SMASH-POW!! of the comics page--than I'm concerned with accumulating multiple variant copies of the same thing over and over. Yeah, I bought all four variant covers of the Archie Meets Ramones comic book--I am as God made me--but that's an exception. Usually, if I buy a CD reissue of an LP I already have, I ditch the LP; if I buy a later expanded CD reissue of a disc I already have, the earlier CD goes out the door. It's a rule of thumb, its application varies, but more often than not, if I have one copy of some great thing, I don't feel a need to keep two copies of that same great thing.

This was always true of my 45s. Well, sorta--I didn't really ditch those singles even when I later bought the LP. But if I was going to get the LP, I needed a reason to also buy the single. I needed a non-album B-side. There were a lot of those, justifying my purchases of singles by artists ranging from The Beatles and The Monkees through The Ramones, R.E.M., The Records, and Joan Jett & the Blackhearts. One of my favorites was a surf instrumental called "Surfing And Spying," the B-side of "Our Lips Are Sealed" by The Go-Go's.



The first Go-Go's album Beauty And The Beat knocked me out, a near-perfect confection of confident, irresistible pop music. I heard "We Got The Beat" in 1981 (possibly the original import single version) on a Sunday night alternative-rock radio show, I heard the live version on a 2-LP various-artists soundtrack album called Urgh! A Music War, and I was a spontaneously-generated Go-Go's fan. Other than Urgh, I think my first Go-Go's purchase was the Beauty And The Beat album, followed by the "Our Lips Are Sealed" single. I needed that B-side.



The early '80s represented a continuation of my ongoing education in the wonders of pop music. I describe the years 1976-78 as the crucible that forged my tastes, as I expanded from a 16-year-old who worshipped The Beatles (as I still do today) into an avid fan of punk, power pop, and new wave, but still always with an eye and ear out for the beguiling sounds of the past. Post-crucible, a college graduate in 1980, I became enthralled with the guitar-bass-drums appeal of the legendary instrumental combo The Ventures. The Ventures' "Walk--Don't Run" knocked me out on oldies radio, prompting an essential purchase of The Very Best Of The Ventures. Somewhere, probably in the pages of the fine rock 'n' roll magazine Trouser Press, I learned that Go-Go's guitarist Charlotte Caffey wrote a song for The Ventures. Well! Had to have that, didn't I? There was no ready option for me to buy "Surfing And Spying" by The Ventures, but I cowabunga'd and hung ten for the chance to own a version by its author's own rockin' band. (If pressed, I would concede the possibility that I mighta maybe had a little crush on all of the individual members of The Go-Go's, particularly bassist Kathy Valentine. Sorry, Ventures, but ya just can't compete with that.)




Even considered apart from my prerequisite girl-pop swooning, The Go-Go's did a helluva job crafting and capturing a Ventures-type song. I loved the record, and played it often. I don't understand why it was omitted from the expanded CD reissue of Beauty And The Beat, nor why its only CD appearance seems to be on the two-disc Return To The Valley Of The Go-Go's anthology set. It's an important song for me, and it was important for the growth of my awareness and appreciation of '60s instrumental rock. Before "Surfing And Spying," I had my Ventures best-of and the 45 of "Beatnik Fly" by Johnny & the Hurricanes; after The Go-Go's, my scope expanded to include latter-day instrumental groups like The Raybeats and Jon & the Nightriders, and classics like "Mr. Moto" by The Belairs, "Penetration" by The Pyramids, "Pipeline" by The Chantays, and the incredible "Miserlou" by Dick Dale & his Del-Tones. In later years, I'd learn of Link Wray, and of British instrumental gods The Shadows. It was all music simply too good for words.



I saw The Ventures play live at a club show in the late '80s. I never did have a chance to see The Go-Go's. I don't remember whether or not The Ventures' amazing live set included "Surfing And Spying," but if it didn't, it should have. It's a great song, and it deserves to be considered right alongside recognized Ventures essentials like "Walk--Don't Run," "Hawaii Five-O," and "Slaughter On Tenth Avenue." And honestly, I think Beauty And The Beat would have been perfect (rather than just near-perfect) if "Surfing And Spying" had replaced "Automatic" on the original LP. SURF! SPY...! Some records are just plain meant for the collector in me.




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You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.

I HIT 20 (AND 20 HITS BACK): My [simulated] All-Time Hot 100 circa 1980

I've been looking back at the music I loved when I was younger, trying to imagine what I would have named as my All-Time Hot 100 when I was a nascent rock 'n' roll fan. We've seen my lists from 1976, 1977, 1978, and 1979. Now, it's the fall of '79, as I enter my senior year in college. I'm 19; soon I'll be 20. And there was music.


I was never a particularly good student, but nor was I ever in much danger of failing outright. Science was a mystery to me. I was adequate at math, albeit barely adequate. I was pretty good with history and social studies, and potentially very good with anything that involved a-readin' and a-writin'. I skipped fifth grade because I was reading at a high school level. I discovered that I could write; with practice, I developed an ability to write well. I entered college at 17, enrolled in a program designed to earn a four-year degree in three years, and walked away from academia in the spring of 1980, a BA in English in my hand and a punk rock song in my heart. I was 20 years old. I wasn't quite ready for prime time, but prime time awaited nonetheless.

My senior year at Brockport was pretty good. I got along with my roommate, and we shared some similar tastes in music. My girlfriend Brenda lived directly downstairs from my seventh-floor dorm suite. A combination of boys from my floor and girls from her floor formed a broomball team, and that was a righteous good time. There were parties, there was rock 'n' roll, camaraderie, and even a day trip to Letchworth State Park, culminating in an impromptu slumber party. Overall, it was probably the closest thing to a contented period in my academic career.

But still, I was anxious for it to be over. I just didn't want to be in school anymore. I grabbed my diploma in May, briefly (very briefly) toyed with the idea of grad school, and moved on. Brenda still had another year to go; we wanted to remain together, so we got an apartment in the village. Needing money for my share of the rent, I took the job that was available: working part-time at McDonald's in Rochester, a twenty-minute bus ride away. I lost that job when I saw a tied-up garbage bag full of what I presumed to be garbage, and tossed it into the trash compactor; the bag contained several pairs of the owner's expensive shoes, which had been dropped off for him at the store. Oops. Luckily, as summer ended, the McDonald's back in my college town was hiring, and a full-time fast-food paycheck was mine for the taking. Success! Meager success, but it meant money for rent, groceries, beer, and records. I would remain an employee of McDonald's of Brockport for two years.

So here's an approximation of my top-of-the-pops soundtrack from the start of my senior year in the fall of 1979 through the start of my residency at McDonald's of Brockport in late August of 1980. It was a more difficult list to simulate than the previous entries, but I think I captured the broad strokes of my musical world at the time, a portrait of the blogger as a young about-to-be man. We'll return with one more list, compressing fall of 1980 through August of 1982 into one big WHOOOOSH! There will be noise. And please, just ignore that garbage bag full of shoes. It's for your own good, man. Trust me.



Accidents Never Happen Blondie
All Around The World The Jam
All Kindsa Girls The Real Kids
American Girl Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
Any Way You Want It The Dave Clark Five
Baby Blue Badfinger
Babysitter The Ramones
The Ballad Of John & Yoko The Beatles
Blitzkrieg Bop The Ramones
Capital Radio The Clash
Carbona Not Glue The Ramones
Catch Us If You Can The Dave Clark Five
Chinese Rocks The Heartbreakers
Clampdown The Clash
Complete Control The Clash
Coming Up Paul McCartney
Cool Metro David Johansen
Couldn't I Just Tell You Todd Rundgren
Crazy Little Thing Called Love Queen
Damaged Goods Gang Of Four
Death Of A Clown The Kinks
Do Anything You Wanna Do Eddie & the Hot Rods
Do You Love Me The Dave Clark Five
Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio? The Ramones
Don't Wait Up For Me The Beat
The Door Into Summer The Monkees
Dream Police Cheap Trick
Dreaming Blondie
Even The Losers Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
Every Little Thing The Beatles
Follow Me Artful Dodger
Fortune Teller The Rolling Stones
Frenchette David Johansen
Get Off Of MyCloud The Rolling Stones
Girls David Johansen
Go All The Way The Raspberries
God Save The Queen The Sex Pistols
Good Girls Don't The Knack
Government Center The Modern Lovers
A Hard Day's Night The Beatles
Heart Full Of Soul The Yardbirds
Help! The Beatles
I Just Want To Have Something To Do The Ramones
I Wanna Be Sedated The Ramones
I Wanna Be With You The Raspberries
I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend The Rubinoos
I Want You To Want Me Cheap Trick
If I Needed Someone The Beatles
I'm Bored Iggy Pop
I'm Down The Beatles
I'm Straight The Modern Lovers
I'm The Man Joe Jackson
It's My Life The Animals
It's The Same Old Song The Four Tops
Laugh Laugh The Beau Brummels
Let's Go The Cars
Lies The Knickerbockers
Love Is Only Sleeping The Monkees
No Matter What Badfinger
No Reply The Beatles
One Track Mind The Heartbreakers
Personality Crisis The New York Dolls
Pleasant Valley Sunday The Monkees
Pop Muzik M
Porpoise Song (Theme From Head) The Monkees
Pretty Vacant The Sex Pistols
Public Image Public Image Ltd.
Refugee Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
Revenge The Scruffs
Revolution The Beatles
Rock 'n' Roll High School The Ramones
Rock And Roll Girl The Beat
Rockaway Beach The Ramones
Rockerfeller The Most
Roxanne The Police
School Days The Runaways
Shake Some Action The Flamin' Groovies
Shattered The Rolling Stones
Sheena Is A Punk Rocker The Ramones
Sleazy The Village People
So You Want To Be A Rock 'n' Roll Star? The Patti Smith Group
Starry Eyes The Records
Stop Your Sobbing The Pretenders
Strange Town The Jam
Sunday Girl Blondie
Superman (Main Title Theme) The London Symphony Orchestra
Surrender Cheap Trick
Take A Chance The Most
Teenage Alcoholic The Ohms
Teenage Kicks The Undertones
The Ties That Bind Bruce Springsteen
Tomorrow Night Shoes
Walking Out On Love Paul Collins
Waterloo Sunset The Kinks
What I Like About You The Romantics
(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love And Understanding Elvis Costello & the Attractions
When I Look In Your Eyes The Romantics
Wouldn't You Like It The Bay City Rollers
You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory Johnny Thunders
You Really Got Me The Kinks


WHEN WE RETURN: No Time To Be 21/This Year I'll Be 22

TIP THE BLOGGER: CC's Tip Jar!

You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.

Thanksgiving Redux

Two years ago, I wrote a blog post about Thanksgiving. It was well-received, and it's worth a re-visit now:

THANKSGIVING

Much has changed in the past two years. Mom is now in a nursing home. Last December, a fall at home made it clear that she could no longer live on her own. I was with her for the ambulance ride to the emergency room, as EMS workers lifted her out of the house that had been her home for more than 65 years. She knew, in her heart, that she would not be returning there. She never had an opportunity for closure, to say goodbye to the house in which I grew up. She does not want to visit that house now. The memory of what was, and which only lives on in memory, is too painful to reconcile.

My daughter Meghan and her boyfriend Austin live there now, as guests of my sister Denise (who bought the house from Mom when Dad died in 2012). It was time for Meghan to start building an independent life, and that's a good thing. But the house's current state is less than ideal, as a persistent leak in the ceiling near their bed has proven difficult to remedy. Attempts to patch the roof have been as effective as BBs shot at Superman. I haven't even been able to get an estimate on replacing the roof, because, y'know, winter in November. I'm trying to come up with at least some kind of temporary solution, and I'm beside myself with worry that the leak will grow larger and that Meghan and Austin will not be able to stay there. I feel helpless.

Last Friday, Meghan, my wife Brenda, and I attended a memorial service for my sister-in-law Patty. Patty married my brother Art in 1972; her family had lived kitty-corner across the street from our house in North Syracuse until the early '60s. When Art started dating Patty around 1970 or so, Mom asked him, Isn't she a little young for you? But together, Art and Patty were just right, and so much in love. Fuck cancer. She was only 67. Brenda thought of Patty as a sister, and she's devastated, as we all are. We all wanted to get to Columbus for the service, so we dodged threatening weather conditions for the drive to Ohio. My other brother Rob and his wife Barbara drove in from Albany as well, and we surprised Art and his family with our presence. We felt that we needed to be there for him, for my nephews and their wives and kids, and for Patty's siblings. They used to live across the street from the house where Mom no longer lives, the house where a ceiling drips ominously upon Meghan and Austin. Family needed to be there for family.

My sister Denise lives in England with her husband Tony. Tony's mom passed away earlier this year. Last week, Denise and Tony's own home was devastated by fire. No one was hurt. They will not be able to move back into their house for up to a year. They are too far away for us to hug and offer comfort.

Aunt Mary, who could not make the car trip to Albany in my previous Thanksgiving story, also passed away this year. She was the last of my father's siblings. That generation of Cafarelli is now gone.

Today, Brenda, Meghan, Austin, and I will go to Mom's nursing home for a Thanksgiving meal. The nursing home staff allows guests to join residents for holiday celebrations, requiring only notice and a $5 fee. Rob invited us to Albany, as he always does, but we need to stay closer to home this year. We presume that institutionally-prepared turkey will not match Barb's cooking (a pretty safe presumption), but Brenda is making some corn casserole, noodle kugel, and sweet potato pie to supplement the fare provided. More importantly, we will be there. We will try, not so much to preserve the elusive illusion of normalcy, but to be together in whatever circumstances fate allows. We all wish we could be together, all of us in Syracuse, Rob and Barb and their extended family in Albany, Art and his boys (and their girls, and progeny) in Ohio. Denise and Tony, their son Tim, their daughter Mallory and her newlywed husband Alvaro. Patty. Aunt Mary. Tony's Mom. Dad. My niece Stephanie, taken from us a decade ago. We wish things were different. We're grateful for the grace we've had.

I'm not as strong as I need to be. But I'm trying. I succeed some days. I keep trying. And I write all of this, not to bring anyone down, but to acknowledge our common frailty, our shared vulnerability, our mutual mortality. My tale is only unique in the sense that each person's tale is unique. I know others suffer, many far, far worse than I can even imagine. A high school friend wrote recently of how Thanksgiving has always been a time of struggle for her, a holiday she simply can not embrace or celebrate. I wish there were a way I could help to lift her heart. I wish I could lift a lot of hearts, my own included. But still, I give thanks. I give thanks for family, and friends, and love, and life. We will struggle. We will fall. And we will keep on trying. We will be as strong as our spirits allow us to be.

Happy Thanksgiving Day. Happy Black Friday. Happy Cyber Monday. Happy December 17th, January 23rd, February 11th, whatever. Happy any day you can. We can't be happy on all of the days. Here's hoping we can each find a few happy days here and there.

THE EVERLASTING FIRST: The Sex Pistols

Continuing a look back at my first exposure to a number of rock 'n' roll acts and superheroes (or other denizens of print or periodical publication), some of which were passing fancies, and some of which I went on to kinda like. They say you never forget your first time; that may be true, but it's the subsequent visits--the second time, the fourth time, the twentieth time, the hundredth time--that define our relationships with the things we cherish. Ultimately, the first meeting is less important than what comes after that. But every story still needs to begin with that first kiss.



Noise. Glorious, angry, cathartic noise. Loud. Pissed off. Incredible.

It took me decades to really appreciate the music of The Sex Pistols. When I heard my first Pistols record in 1977, I thought it was intriguing, fascinating, but not really music. Now? Now, I regard The Sex Pistols as one of the all-time great rock 'n' roll bands.

But I liked the noise immediately.

British punk rock in the '70s wasn't built with me in mind; suburban American teens were not really the target audience of these snotty, safety-pinned Nihilists screaming Anarcheeeee in the yoooooooooooooo-kay! Nonetheless, my own individual level of post-adolescent alienation ultimately made me receptive to the promise of no future, no future, no future for you.

Before the music, there were words in the newspaper. For some reason, my memory associates my earliest awareness of The Sex Pistols with the cold confines of the Media Center at my high school in North Syracuse, NY. It was my senior year, 1976 to '77. I spent some time in the Media Center, theoretically studying, really just reading histories of comic books and attempting to flirt (to no avail) with the girl at the periodicals check-out counter. There were press reports of this strange punk thing going on in England, sensational, garbled accounts of obscenity, rebellion, a jarring rock 'n' roll cacophony, a band literally puking on its audience. The last bit wasn't true; the rest of it turned out to be Gospel.

Whatever. I wasn't interested.

I was 16 or 17. My pop music tastes ran to British Invasion and '60s oldies, The Beatles always first and foremost, plus '70s acts like Sweet, Badfinger, and The Raspberries. I'd missed a chance to see Alice Cooper (with the lovely Suzi Quatro, my # 1 rock 'n' roll crush) in 1975, and would see my first concert--KISS--in December of '76. I wasn't opposed to flash, to excitement. But the yellow-journalism tales of The Sex Pistols made punk seem...dumb.

My opinion of punk would revise with the revelation of Phonograph Record Magazine, a tabloid rock rag I discovered in early '77. PRM's tantalizing descriptions of all these punk and peripheral acts I'd never heard--The Ramones, The Damned, The Clash, Blondie, The Vibrators, and of course the Pistols--intrigued me. I wanted to know more. I wanted to hear...something.

I finally heard The Sex Pistols in the summer of '77, when Utica's WOUR-FM played their new import single, "God Save The Queen." The DJ introduced the track with mentions of the clamor and controversy surrounding the group, and then played the record so listeners could judge for themselves.



"God Save The Queen" was unlike any record I'd ever heard. Even though I didn't initially think it was music, it was undeniably exciting, enticing. Different. That was good enough for me. I didn't hear The Sex Pistols again for months thereafter, but "God Save The Queen" did not leave my mind at any time.

Summer ended. College at Brockport began for this 17-year-old freshman. I heard more punk rock, courtesy of the campus radio station. I had my classes, and I betcha I may have studied occasionally. Otherwise? Music. Keggers. Attempts at writing. Flirting. Reciprocal flirting, leading to more than flirting. A few really dumbass actions that I still cringe to recall. Arguments with my roommate. A growing certainty that I would never truly fit in anywhere, a certainty which proved to be accurate.

There were two record stores in town, The Vinyl Jungle and The Record Grove. The Vinyl Jungle was gone in short order, leaving only The Record Grove, whose wonderful manager Bill Yerger had import and independent 45s for sale at the counter. My first punk rock purchases occurred at that counter when I bought the 45s of "God Save The Queen" and The Ramones' "Sheena Is A Punk Rocker."

My roommate let me play "God Save The Queen" once on his stereo, so props to him for that. It was just as powerful the second time through, and it retained its power for oh, a zillion subsequent spins over the years. B-side "Did You No Wrong" wasn't quite as distinctive--what could be?--but I dug it, and I like even more all these decades later.

My girlfriend was a little older than me, about 20 or 21, and she didn't care for any of that noisy trash I loved so much. Her abrupt replacement was just 17, if you know what I mean, and she didn't like my music any more than her predecessor did, but she bought me The Sex Pistols' debut LP as a Christmas gift.



I think I'd already heard the "Pretty Vacant" single before I got my copy of Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols. I loved "Pretty Vacant" and "God Save The Queen," and I loved a great album track called "No Feelings." I liked "Anarchy In The UK" and "Holidays In The Sun." I appreciated the foul-mouthed shock value of "Bodies," and I approved of the album as a whole without ever embracing it as fully as I claimed at the time. I glowered at the barely-literate poison-pen review the album received in the campus newspaper, a frothing-at-the-mouth diatribe that sputtered such pithy witticisms as "Simply put, this album sucks!" Oh, you and your clever words....!

That was the basic beginning of my life as a Sex Pistols fan. Back home over Christmas break, my friend Jay came over to watch The Sex Pistols' planned American television debut on Saturday Night Live, only to discover that our lads were still in England, and their SNL slot would be manned instead by some guy named Elvis Costello. The Pistols eventually made it to America, and the group broke up, acrimoniously and ignominiously, on these shores. When there's no future, how can there be sin?

The sheer audacity of the Pistols phenomenon stayed with me. So much was made of their image, their DIY sloppiness, their presumed inability to play, that I didn't realize until long, long after the fact just how solid this much-maligned band really was. Sure, Sid Vicious couldn't play bass to save his short life, and Johnny Rotten's abrasive lead vocals were willfully more caterwaul than melody. But underneath all that? Guitarist Steve Jones, drummer Paul Cook, and original bassist Glen Matlock were tight, together. They could play, and they played a basic, invigorating, exciting rock 'n' roll sound that doesn't get the credit it richly deserves. These are terrific records. I wish they'd made more!



But Never Mind The Bollocks was The Sex Pistols' only real album. There was the double-LP collection The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, assembled posthumously and at least as much sod as odd, and there was a terrific bootleg called Spunk, which preserved the Pistols' pre-album demos. For a while, I preferred Spunk to Bollocks, but I've since settled firmly on the side of the official recordings.

Nowadays, my go-to Sex Pistols audio document is Kiss This, an import CD that contains all of Never Mind The Bollocks, the non-LP B-sides ("I Wanna Be Me," "Did You No Wrong,""Satellite," "No Fun"), and a selection of tracks from The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, including the Pistols' cover of The Monkees' "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" and Sid Vicious' silly deconstruction of "My Way." If it only added Sid's surprisingly amiable version of Eddie Cochran's "Something Else" from The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, Kiss This would be THE perfect Pistols set, but it's close enough.



And, of course, I still have my original LP of Never Mind The Bollocks, Here's The Sex Pistols, a Christmas gift from a girl who would remain my girlfriend for about two more weeks after she gave it to me. No future. No feelings for anybody else, except for myself, my beautiful self. We are the flowers in the dustbin. The poison in your human machine. We're so pretty, oh so pretty. Noise. Glorious. Angry. Cathartic. Music. 

Mine. My music. The transcendence of its noise endures. We mean it, man.



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Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HIT (B-Side Appreciation): "The Girl I Knew Somewhere"

Before mp3, CD, and cassette singles, a hit record was always a 45. The A-Side had the hit. The B-Side? Sometimes it was a throwaway. Sometimes it was something more.


THE MONKEES: "The Girl I Knew Somewhere"
Colgems, 1967; A-SIDE: "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You"

Seize the day.

For most of us, this can mean something as simple as gathering the courage to chat with an eye-catching new girl or guy. It can mean seeing an opportunity and taking it. It can mean embracing one's life and experience, raising the volume to magnetic north.

For Michael Nesmith, it meant putting his fist through a wall, and telling a record biz toadie, That could have been your head, mother...

...you know.

Nesmith was frustrated. It was 1967, and he was a member of the made-for-TV pop group called The Monkees. He was only two years removed from barely being able to make ends meet, hauling his laundry with him to his audition for the television series that would make him famous. He'd been a folk singer, a songwriter, and--in his own words, during his 1965 screen test for The Monkees--"a failure." His sudden subsequent flash of fame and cash could have been compared to hitting the lottery. 

Nesmith was dissatisfied with it from the start.



So he demanded more. Immediately, before the ink was dry on his contract, before the general public had even seen or heard--or heard of--The Monkees. Michael and his co-workers Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork were forbidden by upper management from playing the guitars, drums, bass, keyboards, and little red maracas on the recordings credited to the Monkees brand name. Nesmith insisted those vinyl Monkees products include songs he'd written. He insisted on producing the sessions for the songs he'd written. In one case, he even insisted that Peter Tork be allowed to play acoustic guitar--A Monkee! Playing his own instrument!--on the session for a song Nesmith wrote and produced. You could call this hubris. You could call it a tuneful carpe diem. You'd be right either way.



Dolenz and Jones were primarily actors, though both also had musical backgrounds before clocking in for their first shifts as Monkees. Tork and Nesmith were primarily musicians, and bristled at the restrictions placed on their opportunity to play. When The Monkees' popularity necessitated live concert appearances, one supposes these four TV actors could have hit the stage as vocals-only frontmen backed by a support band, or even mimed a-pickin' and a-thumpin' in the spotlight as actual musicians plied their trade out of view, the real players hidden behind a curtain like the Wizard of Oz. To this day, many still believe and propagate this myth of miming Monkees. That's not what happened. Nesmith, Tork, Dolenz, and Jones seized the day, worked and sweated, overtime, off the clock, and became a garage band, like the struggling combo they played on the tube. The live Monkees were the real Monkees.



And still, Nesmith wanted more. Tork agreed. Dolenz and Jones backed their colleagues in this seemingly Quixotic bid for legitimacy. They petitioned the bosses for the right to play on their own records. The bosses granted their request.

Well, the CEOs granted their request, anyway. Bob Rafelson and Bert Schneider, the founders of Monkees Inc., thought it could be good for company morale if the boys did have a more direct role in creating their product. But the floor manager, Music Supervisor Don Kirshner? He did not agree. And he did not like this change in the project's structure. He did not like it one bit. He tried to buy back The Monkees' loyalty, presenting them with substantial paychecks for their share of the phenomenal sales of the first two Monkees albums. That's a lot of zeroes, boys. Isn't that a lot of zeroes? We got a dandy thing going here. You don't wanna mess that up, do you boys? 

With that, Kirshner bundled the royalty checks with the unveiling of his Chosen One, the pop ditty he'd selected as the next Monkees single. Legend has it that the song was "Sugar, Sugar," later to be a hit for The Archies, a cartoon group Kirshner would find much easier to control than The Monkees ever were. The story is not true--"Sugar, Sugar" had not yet been written when this 1967 meeting took place--but it's a good story. The Monkees refused, flatly, perhaps arrogantly. Nesmith said something to the effect that if The Monkees couldn't begin making their own music, he didn't want to be a Monkee anymore. Breach of contract!, Kirshner's people wailed. BAM! That could have been your head, Nesmith replied. Meeting adjourned.



As Kirshner fumed, The Monkees seized the day. Nesmith on guitar. Tork on keyboards and harpsichord. Dolenz on drums. Jones on percussion, with Nesmith's pal John London a deputy Monkee on bass. Micky would sing lead. Nesmith had already brought in an outside producer, The Turtles' bassist Douglas Farthing Hatlelid, aka Chip Douglas. The group recorded two songs: "All Of Your Toys," written by Bill Martin (another Nesmith associate), and Nesmith's "The Girl I Knew Somewhere." Kirshner blocked the release of "All Of Your Toys" on the grounds that Monkees song curator Screen Gems didn't own the publishing (which Martin refused to relinquish). Fine. Kirshner was directed to use "The Girl I Knew Somewhere" as the B-side of The Monkees' next single.

Have you ever worked for someone who was an impediment to your success, a talented individual whose unchecked ego got in his own way and in yours? Don Kirshner was accomplished, and very good at his job, but he was absolutely that guy in this situation. In the business of pop music, no one could ever tell Don Kirshner what to do. And he certainly wasn't going to have his business jeopardized or dictated by four...employees whose hitmaking machine Kirshner had built from the ground up. Screw that. Kirshner coaxed Davy Jones into the studio to make some Monkees records the tried-and-true way, the proven way. A Neil Diamond song called "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You." A Jeff Barry-Ellie Greenwich song called "She Hangs Out." Just sing, Davy. The music's already handled. Kirshner released the two songs as a single in Canada, and was fired for his insubordination.

The Canadian 45 was withdrawn. Its B-side was scrapped (and later re-done by The Monkees as an LP track, without Kirshner). The A-side would stay in place, and "A Little Bit Me, A Little Bit You" became The Monkees third straight hit single. But its brand-new B-side, "The Girl I Knew Somewhere," was the first Monkees product actually made by The Monkees. The day had been duly seized.



Kirshner was convinced that the Monkees project would collapse into itself if The Monkees were ever allowed a hand--any hand--in making Monkee music. He was wrong. Granted, the remainder of their chart reign was brief, but there were indeed a few more hits for The Monkees after he was dismissed, and a lot of terrific music. They made an album, 1967's Headquarters, as a nearly self-contained group; Nesmith's "You Just May Be The One," my favorite song on Headquarters, was recorded by just the four Monkees, with no outside players. The Monkees could be more than assembly-line cogs in a factory of music; they could be a band. Their ability to transcend an artificial genesis is a key component of The Monkees' continued allure more than five decades after the fact.

That transcendence began in earnest with a song written by Michael Nesmith, a song performed by The Monkees, a song that demonstrated the possibilities of lowly workers seizing the day, and becoming more than they were. When you punch a clock, sometimes it pays to punch a little harder. Sieze this, mother....



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Our new compilation CD This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 4 is now available from Kool Kat Musik! 29 tracks of irresistible rockin' pop, starring Pop Co-Op, Ray Paul, Circe Link & Christian Nesmith, Vegas With Randolph Featuring Lannie Flowers, The Slapbacks, P. Hux, Irene Peña, Michael Oliver & the Sacred Band Featuring Dave Merritt, The Rubinoos, Stepford Knives, The Grip Weeds, Popdudes, Ronnie Dark, The Flashcubes,Chris von Sneidern, The Bottle Kids, 1.4.5., The Smithereens, Paul Collins' Beat, The Hit Squad, The Rulers, The Legal Matters, Maura & the Bright Lights, Lisa Mychols, and Mr. Encrypto & the Cyphers. You gotta have it, so order it here. A digital download version (minus The Smithereens' track) is also available from Futureman Records.