J.B., whose regular blog is the fantastic The Hits Just Keep On Comin', shares the story original version of "Brown Sugar" (with Eric Clapton and Al Kooper) over on WNEW's Rock Flashback blog. It's even better than the "official" version (in my opinion).
They Suggest Piano Lessons for Young Beauty Queens
The days got longer, the pants got shorter, and the sun got warmer.
And the plans started hatching. Where we'd go. Who we'd visit. What we'd eat.
Then the couples shattered, stretched, and broke.
And another summer had arrived. This one different. This one less carefree, more serious.
This time the end was in sight. And for most of us, it wasn't filled with joy and gladness. It was filled with doubt and despair.
The internships were horrific, hours of torture bookending endless drinking. More and more, conversations would begin with "Can you believe people live like this?"
The phone calls were more tense.
The concerts were harder to plan.
The standing Tuesday night Frisbee games moved to Thursday, then to Saturday afternoon, then to never.
The interruptions -- which had made each previous summer bearable -- now became something we dreaded.
There was a chill everywhere, even when it was over 100 degrees and the wind was blowing inland off the tides of shorelines gone.
The ones who'd already left were divided into two groups: the ones who admitted their unhappiness and the ones who could hide their unhappiness.
We didn't know what was happening... only that it was important.
And, as we struggled to wring the last drop of May out of the air, we couldn't wait for June to come. Everything would change.
Of course, back then, we thought we could come back anytime we wanted.
You could argue that Enigma Records was the coolest label in the world in 1985.
I wore most of the oxide off a 1985 cassette sampler from Enigma, driving far too fast on roads in 21 different states in a French car constructed (poorly) in Kenosha, Wisconsin. (Who knows, the tape might still be around in an old shoe box or still in the glove compartment that car, which I haven't owned since the 90s.)
I don't remember much about the cassette, but it had songs on it by Don Dixon, Game Theory, the Smithereens, the Dead Milkmen, and (if memory serves) Mojo Nixon.
If I had the tape right now (okay, and if I had a car that could play tapes), I'd get on the nearest highway right now, roll down all the windows, blast the rest of the oxide off it at high levels of volume, and drive approximately 123mph.
An otherwise reasonably sane friend called me up and announced she was going to stay up all night watching the Royal Wedding.
"I was a tomboy," she explained. "I never went through the princess phase."
"And now you have to make up for it at 2 in the morning?"
She shrugged. "It's not something I really understand. It's just something I want to do."
"But you're not English," I said. "You're not even Canadian."
"No. But I've been to London. Once."
"But we're American. We don't believe in royalty. We rejected that hundreds of years ago."
"Sure," she said. "But I can still dream."
"Not if you're awake at 2 in the morning."
And she smiled. Indulgently. "It's not a guy thing. You wouldn't understand."
So that's why she'll be at home overnight hosting a party of 11 women (most of whom are reasonably sane), watching an absurd event half a world away... while I'm dreaming of rock 'n' roll.
Like the "2nd 8th Annual Grilled Cheese Invitational."
I'm not sure how "invitational" it is when the event is open to the public... but there it is.
Complete with a marching band on stilts, professional costumed characters, a costume contest for the amateurs, and plenty of gooey, yummy, melty cheese:
While looking for something else on the internets, I stumbled onto the songs below.
In the late 60s and early 70s, before he became known as a singer-songwriter (and then a pop superstar), Elton John had an interesting day job.
He was part of a group of anonymous singers and musicians who re-recorded popular songs (mostly with very faithful arrangements) that were packaged into albums and rush-released to supermarkets (where they were available at bargain prices because... well, they weren't the originals).
The technical quality of these tracks is fairly high (especially given how low-rent the operations were), but some of them will make you scratch your head in wonder.
I mean, what the hell is a Honky Cat like Elton John doing singing a song about being Young, Gifted, and Black?
And did he cringe at the cheestastic lyrics or tell himself that the arrangements, if you squinted a bit, were kind of cool?
I'm guessing that Elton John never thought much about these tracks after he recorded them. And he probably expected they'd soon be forgotten.
But nothing ever really goes away in cyberspace... so enjoy these glimpses of Elton John, before he became Captain Fantastic:
The Martians know what's really important. Stuck up there on a dead planet, they look to the Earth longingly.
"They want the green. They want the oceans. They even want the annoying mosquitoes. What they wouldn't give to be bitten by a mosquito or to have their legs broken by falling out of a spruce tree."
We should have stopped her when started on about the Martians. But we didn't.
So Cindy kept ranting about the Martians and we all looked around, vaguely embarrassed. No one stepped forward to stop her. Instead, we all silently agreed to let her keep going until she ran out of gas.
And finally, she stopped. And looked around the circle at each of us.
Years from now, when I've forgotten about the evil corporations, and the horrors of all kinds of pollution, I'm sure I'll remember what Cindy said.
With the kind of certainty that can only be achieved through high-doses of chemicals, she loudly proclaimed: "Because on Mars, every day is Earth Day."
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