1970’s

Weekly Song Challenge ~Round 9

Let’s have some fun!

Rules:

Copy rules and add to your own post, pinging back to this post.
Post music videos for your answers to the musical questions.
Tag two people to participate!
Easy!

1.

1. Post a music video of a song by an artist popular in the 80s.

Culture Club..’Karma Chameleon’ 

 

2. Post a music video of a song that makes you wanna shake your groove thang!

HEATWAVE..’BOOGIE NIGHTS’

3. Post a music video of an acoustic version of a popular song.

ERIC CLAPTON, VINCE GILL..’LAY DOWN SALLY’

Here is the Weekly Song Challenge Round Nine~ .

 

Annunci

‘I’m On Fire’ Dwight Twilley Band

‘I’m On Fire’ Dwight Twilley Band  

Here we have a mid~70’s power pop classic, though I have no memory of it from before early 1980.  I’ve alway been so plum smitten with it.  It’s somewhat similar to the Tymes’ ‘You Little Trustmaker’. 

 

Words: (easily found on Google)

Got your lady on the line
Got your name on the cover
Though your friends are ninety-nine
Honey you ain’t got no lover
And you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no lover
And you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no other

I remember the feelin’ that I could be free
Now I know it could never ever be me
‘Cause I’m on fire
Got myself on fire

Got your joker on the table
You’ve been told from time to time
I’ll be willin’, I’ll be able
You could read between the lines

But you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no lover, lover, lover
And you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no other

I remember the feelin’ that I could be free
Now I know it could never ever be me
‘Cause I’m on fire
I’m-a I’m on fire

But you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no lover, lover, lover, lover
And you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no other, other, other, other
And you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no lover, lover, lover

I’m on fire
I’m on fire (and you ain’t, you ain’t, you ain’t got no lover, lover, lover)
I’m on fire (lover, lover, lover, lover)
I’m on fire (lover, lover, lover)

Compositori: Dwight A. Twilley
Testo di I’m on Fire © Universal Music Publishing Group

Video

3:19
“I’m On Fire” (Lyrics) DWIGHT TWILLEY BAND Phil Seymour

A Flashback Within A Flashback

‘Life Is A Rock(But the Radio Rolled Me)’ Having just looked this nice old novelty song up, I’ve gotten a reminder that it came out in September, 1974.  I was a sophomore at St. John the Baptist Diocesan High School, West Islip, New York. It was recorded by the band Reunion, which included Joey (the Archies) Levine.  Co~written by Levine and Norman Dolph, it was a tribute to the pop music, and pop culture in general, of the past.

 

 

B. Bumble and the Stingers, Mott the Hoople, Ray Charles Singers
Lonnie Mack and twangin’ Eddy, here’s my ring we’re goin’ steady
Take it easy, take me higher, liar liar, house on fire
Locomotion, Poco, Passion, Deeper Purple, Satisfaction
Baby baby gotta gotta gimme gimme gettin’ hotter
Sammy’s cookin’, Lesley Gore and Ritchie Valens, end of story
Mahavishnu, Fujiyama, Kama Sutra, rama-lama
Richard Perry, Spector, Barry, Rogers-Hart, Nilsson, Harry
Shimmy shimmy ko-ko bop and Fats is back and Finger Poppin’

[Chorus]
Life is a rock but the radio rolled me
Gotta turn it up louder, so my DJ told me
Life is a rock but the radio rolled me
At the end of my rainbow lies a golden oldie

FM, AM, hits are clickin’ while the clock is tock-a-tickin’
Friends and Romans, salutationsBrenda and the Tabulations
Carly Simon, I behold herRolling Stones and centerfoldin’
Johnny Cash and Johnny Rivers, can’t stop now, I got the shivers
Mungo Jerry, Peter Peter Paul and Paul and Mary Mary
Dr. John the nightly tripper, Doris Day and Jack the Ripper
Gotta go Sir, gotta swelter, Leon Russell, Gimme Shelter
Miracles in Smokey placesslide guitars and Fender basses
Mushroom omeletBonnie BramlettWilson Pickett, stop and kick it

[Chorus]
Life is a rock but the radio rolled me
Life is a rock but the radio

Arthur Janov’s primal screamin‘, Hawkins, Jay and Dale and Ronnie
Kukla, Fran and Norma Okla Denver, John and Osmond, Donny
J.J. Cale and Z.Z. Top and L.L. Bean and De De Dinah
David BowieSteely Dan and sing me prouder, CC Rider
Edgar Winter, Joanie Sommers, Osmond BrothersJohnny Thunders
Eric Clapton, pedal wah-wahStephen Foster, do-dah do-dah
Good Vibrations, Help Me Rhonda, Surfer Girl and Little Honda
Tighter, tighter, honey, honeysugar, sugar, yummy, yummy
CBS and Warner Brothers, RCA and all the others

[Chorus]
Life is a rock but the radio rolled me
Gotta turn it up louder, so my DJ told me
Whoa whoa whoa whoa!
Life is a rock but the radio rolled me
At the end of my rainbow lies a golden oldie

(Listen (remember) they’re playing our song)
Rock it, sock itAlan Freed meMurray Kaufmantry to leave me
Fish, and Swim, and Boston Monkey, Make it bad and play it funky
(Wanna take you higher!)

Freddie King and Albert King B.B. King and frolicking
Get it on and Nat Gerardi, Papalardi, Hale and Hearty

There’s a perfect more than human gentle words of Randy Newman;
One, two, three, sir, Osibisa, I need a breather!
(Aretha!)

Tito Puente, Boffalongo, Cuba, War and even Mongo
(Line not credible) Peter Dial, Alex Hood, Boogie Brass

Whoo!!!

California, Beatlemania, New York City, Transylvania
S&G and (V&C?) and Bobby Vee and SRO, yeah yeah!

Here’s where I found the words:   ‘Life Is A Rock(But the Radio Rolled Me)’ 

 

 

Here’s my very first ever contribution to Song Lyric Sunday .

pop pop pop music and names

Although I’ve always had only relatively few restricti0ns on the things I consider permissible, these things tend to be quite seriously non-negotiable. Music is the most notorious example of where this snobbery comes into play. Ever since I was only a kid, I’ve always been fanatically obsessed with the Beatles and their era. Of course I can very easily be counted on to enjoy practically all kinds of music from all other time frames too. There are, however, certain very definite exceptions to this rule.  I’ve never been able to stand either disco or rap.  In the world of pop music in general, I have yet to find a recent style in general, or specific song, that strikes me as worth bothering with. My nephews Michael and Sam, and niece Bridget, are constantly reminding me, as people always have, of how important it supposedly is to keep an open mind. I honestly don’t care though. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve always lived in my own private exclusive little world, and always shall, and I’ve learned to make my peace with it. Somehow when it comes to musical styles other than pop, I’ve never had any trouble adjusting to new experiences. Genres such as jazz, blues, classical, among many others, have always struck me as quite interesting and enjoyable, and I’m capable of being exceptionally flexible about my listening habits. My problem only seems to exist with the kind of style which kids on a school bus are expected to enjoy. The music of the 1960’s has always been my very favorite, and I’ve always enjoyed 1970’s and 1980’s styles too.  Later eras’ popular music styles, ever since sometime during the course of the 1990’s, besides disco and rap, have been the veritable bane of my existence. By now it’s even become a part of my legend. Another snobby obsession of mine is names. I grew up in, and can only handle, a world where people have nice, plain, square names. Give me a world, please, filled with people named Peter, Andrew, James, John, Ann, Margret and Theresa, rather than Garth, Brice, Dustin, Jared, Marlee, Uma and Amber any day. People who like those invented names try to defend them by saying that the old names are entirely too predictable and commonplace. What they don’t take into account is the fact that eventually these new names will become equally trite and hackneyed anyway. That’s a problem that can’t be solved. I know I shall make many enemies with this comment but I just can’t see the point of it all. Just think about it: A woman named Chelsea will have to go through the rest of her life knowing that her parents named her after a swanky neighborhood in Manhattan. A woman named Amber will have to spend all her life knowing that her parents named her after a Crayola crayon color. I shall never get used to it.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/upturned-noses/

http://psychologistmimi.com/2014/10/08/how-to-walk-the-city-streets-of-new-york/

http://tuckedintoacorner.wordpress.com/2014/10/08/selectively-snobby/comment-page-1/#comment-2685

it’s too late baby. it’s too late now darling. it’s too late

To this very day I can still remember my first day, on the verge of my twelfth birthday, in the seventh grade. My parents, Mary Anne and I had just moved to Lindenhurst from Jackson Heights. After six years of St. Gabriel’s suddenly I was in Copiague Junior High School, on Great Neck Road, where I was to spend the first two weeks of that year.  I know it’s quite impossible to believe but I was such a square then. If I were ever to wake up tomorrow morning as an adult stuck in a twelve year old body, I should assume that all my discomfort would come back for different reasons.  That’s not quite entirely true though. I should still feel thoroughly out of place. At first it might be a somewhat nice interesting experience, to be able to visit a bygone era of my life.  With my perpetually obnoxious sense of the absurd I’d really want to let all the fun parts linger for as long as possible. At least then when I really was twelve I could blend in a little. Now, though, I have already been through all the experiences that an adult could be expected to have, and that would be well over a kid’s head. I’d be quite terrified of looking like some kind of a complete lunatic. The only way I could ever be expected to get through a day in that kind of environment would be if I were to pretend to be abnormally shy. I don’t know what’s going on in the lives of kids that age these days so I couldn’t possibly be expected to carry on even the simplest of conversations.  When I was twelve kids were listening to Carole King, and Sly and the Family Stone.   I could just imagine the stupefied smirks as soon as I started rambling on about “It’s Too Late” and “Everyday People”. Today no one’s even heard of them. I’d have all sorts of problems with things ranging from clothing to slang terms.  I’m way out of practice with skateboards, bicycles and yo-yos.  Being a kid, like anything else, is a Garden-of-Edenish experience in the sense that once it’s gone it can never come back. All of life is like that. My teachers, as well as other kids and their families, would catch on immediately. There are so many things separating this September from September of 1971.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/zoltars-revenge/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/09/01/citrusy-jest/

http://almostamemory.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/i-could-be-twelve-years-old-again/

http://janeydoe57.wordpress.com/2014/09/02/daily-prompt-zoltars-revenge/

sort of like spoonerisms or what?

Over the years I’ve been known most certainly to have my share of inadvertent gaffes, from the time I heard Z.Z. Top’s “Two Step Boogie” as “Tube Steak Boogie” to the times I’ve answered the phone by saying “Telephone” instead of “Hello”, and the time I pronounced “NOmenclature” as “noMENclature.”  Inappropriate behavior has always come quite naturally to me.    To this very day my cousins from western New York remind me of the times I was visiting  them, mostly during the 1980’s, and had all kinds of missteps involving their dog Muggsy, my polka dotted jammies, and all sorts of other horrendous missteps.   My cousin Vinnie especially likes to talk about his visit to Lindenhurst during the late 1970’s when I sideswiped a school bus on the way to Robert Moses Beach.   Those are just some of the highlights of my lopsided adventures.   Please stay tuned for ever more yet to come.   

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/uncanned-laughter/

http://underthemonkeytree.com/2014/08/18/funny-momma-here/

http://hotwhitesnow.wordpress.com/2014/07/27/a-conversation-overheard-the-popes-swiss-guards/

http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com/2013/03/15/show-me-the-way/

Yeah Yeah Yeah!

The first decade of my lifetime was virtually precisely coeval with the 196o’s.    I was born in 1959 so I’m entirely too young to remember the era of flower power, mods, rockers and hippies.    Somehow,though, at an extremely early age I became smitten with all the people, places, things and circumstances that were prominent then.    That sort of qualifies me as a victim of the Golden Age Syndrome.     By the time I turned thirteen years old, the grooviest decade of all had already been over for about the past two years.    The Beatles, my favorite band, were already broken up since the first half of April, 1970.   The first few years of the 1970’s seemed to have shown great promise.   Singers and bands such as Carole King, Joni Mitchell, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, and Led Zeppelin were always on the radio.    They were throwbacks to the 1960’s anyway though.   Eventually their successors started coming into prominence.   Disco was especially conspicuous during that time frame, followed by new wave and punk.    I, of course,  still stuck to my obsessive interest in the further adventures of John, Paul, George and Ringo.    Much of the music of the middle and late 1970’s was exceptionally good, but I could never let go of my hippie fantasy.   The fact that all four Beatles were then still living made it at least theoretically possible to believe that somehow their era would make a kind of comeback.   The Grateful Dead, Who, Rolling Stones, and Jefferson Airplane (with a slight name change), among other bands from the 1960’s, were all still together.   Bob Dylan and Joan Baez could still be counted on to show up every once in a while.   beatles6b I gained quite a reputation among all my friends, classmates, teachers and people in general, for being such a fan of both the entire 1960’s as a whole and particularly of the Fab Four.   As far as I’m concerned the Beatles and their world have always provided quite an infinitely fertile ground for someone with a hyperactive imagination and an interest in keeping things colorful.   Unfortunately, as good as the solo Beatles’ music, and that of their contemporaries may have been throughout the course of the 1970’s I, always having been so obsessively infatuated with the 1960’s, could never bring myself to admit that anything since then was as good as it was during that time.    Having set up an entirely intrinsically impossible standard of comparison, I ended up in the seriously weird position of getting the distinct impression that the 1970’s versions of the Beatles and their contemporaries were somehow not as good as their slightly earlier personae simply because of the mere passage of time.   As far as I was concerned the 1960’s were a time of merry go rounds, kaleidoscopes, tangerines and marmalade, and the Beatles, as they then existed, were the ultimate personification of imagination and creativity.   Throughout my entire adolescence I read every book, and newspaper and magazine article, that had ever been written about the Beatles, and their lives and times.   Their speech patterns, quirks and mannerisms became part of my world.    Thanks to my insatiable curiosity about them and their era, I became quite exceptionally knowledgeable about all things pertaining to the Fab Four and the 1960’s.   Besides the songs and albums of their Beatle years I kept track of albums like John Lennon’s “Walls And Bridges”, Paul McCartney’s “Band On the Run”, George Harrison’s “Dark Horse”, and Ringo Starr’s “Ringo”, among all their other solo adventures.   I was quite conversant in all things Beatle and could occasionally be counted on even to go overboard with my interest in them.   Even now that I’m a middle aged man I still consider all the music of the 1960’s, and especially that of the Lads from Liverpool, to be entirely without equal.   Perhaps some of my youthful obsession with it all has been tempered to the point of its being a bit more subtle but it’s still always with me.      In a much more important sense it was quite a nightmarishly ugly poisonous environment, but for a kid with a hyperactive imagination and a flair for the colorful it could never possibly be topped or even matched.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/teen-age-idol/

http://sustainabilitea.wordpress.com/

 

 

the music man

ublt

Because I was born in September of 1959, the first decade of my lifetime was virtually precisely coeval with the 1960’s.    Musically and otherwise the 1960’s have made quite an indelible mark upon my lifetime.    My childhood was filled with all sorts of musical influences.    I was four and a half years old when the Beatles first appeared on “The Ed Sullivan Show”.    To this day they’re still undeniably my absolute favorites.     That era was known for musical variety shows like “Sing Along With Mitch”, “Ted Mack’s Original Amateur Hour “, and “The Dean Martin Show”, among several others.     As a kid I was always smitten with the sounds of  songs like Petula Clark’s “Downtown”,   Zager and Evans’ “In the Year 2525”, and  Mary Hopkin’s “Those Were the Days”.    Whenever I’d go to a doctor’s office I’d keep obsessing over songs like Percy Faith’s “Theme From ‘A Summer Place'” and Mason Williams’   “Classical Gas”,  among others that were played in waiting rooms.    The folk, jazz, country and other musical styles of that era have always been quite a major love of my life.    Although I’ve never been even the least bit willing to humor the liberals, I’ve even  always  thoroughly enjoyed the protest songs of that era.     Along with all that I made sure I joined the glee club at my grammar school, St. Gabriel’s in East Elmhurst, as soon as I was old enough.    Brother Edmond and Brother James, of the De la Salle Christian Brothers, taught us all the then-current popular songs as well as Christmas and Easter songs and show tunes.   Brother James played the guitar quite well and Brother Edmond, with his fine baritone voice, sang an exceptional version of “Edelweiss(Blossom of Snow)”  from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “The Sound of Music”.     I even took guitar lessons for a while at one of the local public schools, P.S. 127.    My parents were always quite happy to humor my sister and me about our tastes in music.   They enjoyed country music, Edith Piaf and other standards they grew up with so that widened my horizons even more.     Eventually the 1960′ s became the 1970’s.   That era started out fairly well with  Carole King’s “Tapestry” as well as James Taylor, Led Zeppelin and a few other holdovers from the 1960’s.    Eventually, though, disco started to become popular.   My teenage years saw the rise of tacky styles in music and dress.    There were good singers and bands too, though, like the Doobie Brothers, Elton John, Grand Funk and a few others.    In my imagination, though, gone forever were the days when everything musical was perfect.    Even most of  the then-current music I listened to generally tended to be the latest album by someone like Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin (a variation of the Yardbirds).    I had become such a musical snob and purist.    I continuously picked fights with all the kids in school, as well as the public school kids, defending my claim that even in the best of 1970’s music, there was something missing compared to that of the previous decade.      Unfortunately I’ve never been terribly comptetent musically.   My strengths seem to lie more in writing and story telling.    Maybe that’s why I’ve always so thoroughly enjoyed the songs of the 1960’s.     It was an era that included songs like Joan Baez’s “So We’ll Go No More A-Roving”, based on a poem by Lord Byron, Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” and the Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus” , based on Lewis Carroll’s “Alice In Wonderland”, and Yoko Ono’s “Who Has Seen the Wind”, based on a Christina Rossetti poem.       The music I grew up with has profoundly influenced both my adult musical tastes and even my entire life in general.    Although the singers and musicians of my early days could never possibly get me to agree with their liberal political and social agenda, they’ve most certainly shaped my imagination and given me ideas and interest which I may never have otherwise gotten.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/20/daily-prompt-papa-loves-mambo/

two seriously intense trips to manhattan

One weekend last month Steve, Mary Anne and I made two consecutive trips to Manhattan, one on Friday and one on Saturday.     On Friday at around noon, Mary Anne and I took the Long Island Railroad into Penn Station.      After a brief subway ride we met Joel.    We three got something to eat at a small local diner.   After we finished I, always having been such a compulsive bookworm,  went over to N.Y.U.’s nearby college bookstore to hang around while they had an important meeting with someone they were supposed to see.    Later we met Steve who joined us after his having gotten out of work.      Then there was yet another meeting with an architect and his friend,  a Jewish woman from Canada, who owns the company that’s in charge of the circumstances they were involved with.     After it was all over we visited Joel and his wife Andy at their apartment.      After a while Mary Anne, Steve and I went to Lincoln Center to see a production of  Giacomo Puccini’s opera “Madama Butterfly”.     I have several opera C.D’s but  unfortunately I can’t even remember the last time I saw an opera.     Steve got the tickets from his friend, Father John Mullen, S.J., whom I accidentally met while on line at Lincoln Center’s men’s room, when he asked about my St. Peter’s Prep sweatshirt.    Because I’ve never felt comfortable among strangers  I sort of expected to have a hard time getting used to having to deal with all the new people but it didn’t bother me so much.   I was entirely worn out by the end of the night though because of all the trains and subways, combined with the seemingly incessant walking.    Because it had been quite a long time since my last subway ride, I had forgotten how nightmarishly cramped and uncomfortable they are.   By the time the night finally ended, we had been subjected to a full thirteen hours worth of all this activity.   On top of everything else, on our way back to Long Beach, a woman on the train threw up in the car we were in.     The next day there was yet another trip to Manhattan  and we all went to a play in Greenwich Village.   That time we drove.    We left at around 6:00 p.m.      We saw  “East Towards Home”, Billy Yalowitz’ story of the life and times of folk singer and musician Woody Guthrie, told from the point of view of a young man growing up in a radical left wing Jewish socialist environment.   It’s set in the 1960’s and 1970’s.    Of course we all know about my notoriously  intense lifelong opposition to both liberalism and socialism.   I thoroughly enjoyed the music though.    Mark and Laura, and Mary Anne’s friend Lisa, were there with us.    After the play we all went to a really nice Indian restaurant.    As with Friday’s trip I was yet again forced to deal with many strangers and a lot of walking but I somehow made it.   At least on Saturday the day started much later and we didn’thave to be bothered with public transportation.   

SwissCheese

our welcome to 2014

icecreamMary Anne’s and Steve’s friends,  Gary and Jo Anne, threw a really nice party on New Year’s Eve.      We were all supposed to go but Mary Anne got too sick so only Steve and I went.    They only live a few houses away so we walked.     Usually I’m quite happy to enjoy a really nice quiet New Year’s Eve at home without bothering to do any celebrating to mark the occasion.    Occasionally I’ve been known to attend a party thrown by either cousins or neighbors.     As everyone knows I’ve always been quite notoriously bad with meeting new people and in crowds.    I tend to feel uncomfortable in the company of anyone I don’t know and I’m also a bit claustrophobic.   That’s not even counting the fact that I’ve never been fond of staying up late at night.     All worked out quite especially well though.     The people at the party were quite polite and friendly.    They were mostly married couples with their kids.    It’s a good thing I managed to get along so well because it appears I shall have to be spending a reasonably significant amount of time socializing with them from now on.     A top contender for the most interesting character at the party was a really big guy named Kirk.   Kirk has been a less than significantly famous actor ever since the 1960’s.    He spent the night telling us stories about his adventures with Woody Allen, Tennessee Williams and Richie Havens.    When the conversation turned to movies, something came up about John Huston’s movies.   I reminded him that Huston had made the movie version of Flannery O’Connor’s “Wise Blood” in the late 1970’s .   Each of us was quite taken aback that someone else could possibly be so familiar with O’Connor’s works.     On New Year’s Day I made sure I got up in time to go to 9:00 a.m. Mass at St. Mary of the Isle on Park Avenue, because  it’s  the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God.    Thus began my new year.   I ‘ve been forced to accept one change right after the other.