Filed under: personal, the dan fogelberg and hair metal decade | Tags: celebrity, judy garland, michael jackson
I wasn’t going to, but the death of Michael Jackson has occupied enough of my mind this weekend that I figured I’d try to articulate it. Most of these thoughts have probably been written dozens, if not hundreds, of times by other people with better blogs than this one. But here goes:
I’m sort of intrigued by the way news of his death spread. I personally found out via Twitter, originally via (I think) Pete Wentz, and then within seconds from everybody else, celebs and non-celebs alike, nearly all of whom felt the need to write heartfelt eulogies in 140 characters or less. By the time any paper could have possibly gone to print with anything, the whole world pretty much knew every detail, and had hours and hours to make their own observations, form opinions, and talk to their friends, rendering the whole print news vehicle sort of useless. Twenty-four hours later, people were over the shock, and pretty much everyone had already moved on to writing thesis-y thought pieces about the (self-proclaimed, lest we forget) King Of Pop. I’m actually pretty excited about this kind of information transition, if it’s done right: newspapers, no longer necessarily the bearers of hard facts, could actually get smarter. (Of course, that’s assuming things stayed relatively fact-based on the internet; and I guess that’s a lot to expect, as we all know.) (more…)
Filed under: hot, lists, music, starfucking, the dan fogelberg and hair metal decade, tv | Tags: 2k8, beards, chris brown, malcolm middleton
Sorry for the ugly layout on these; probably I should be Photoshopping, or not including pictures at all, to make this less ugly. But anyway. Here’s songs 70-61.
(And tomorrow’s list almost definitely will be delayed. I’m helping somebody move in the morning and then working in a holiday craft store thing after that.)
70. Andrew WK, McLaughlin Groove
Sometimes big things come in small packages. In this case, a fifty-one second song made up up things said on the McLaughlin Group. Death comes in the night on little cat’s feet, indeed.
69. Jazmine Sullivan, Bust Your Windows
Okay, so the lyrics are lacking here: “You probably think that it was juvenile/But I think that I deserve to smile.” But whatever, it’s the combination of female-revenge saga mixed with the ballroom music (Hit ‘Em Up Style meets Shirley Bassey’s Get The Party Started) that means this will surely be a big hit on the gay karaoke circuit for years to come.
68. Kalomoira, Secret Combination
While I eventually got to be okay with Armenia’s second-place Qele Qele, I really can not fathom how this song placed third in Eurovision and that ridiculous Russian Timbaland-produced ice skating trainwreck won. I mean sure, this song by Grecian Long Islander Kalomoira sounds like it’s from the year 2000, but then, this is Eurovision, so maybe it was just a little too hip and edgy for people to handle.
67. Chris Brown, Forever
Okay, so it was actually a Wrigley-financed gum commercial disguising itself as a mid-tempo R&B song. But shut up, it was still good. I think Chris Brown’s has a lot more talent than most people give him credit for, and this is just one example of the quality songs he consistently puts out.
66. Marianne Faithfull, Black Coffee
Marianne Faithfull’s new album, which may or may not be out right now, is a rather stirring collection of dirges featuring a variety of celebrity guest musicians. It’s available in 10 and 18-song versions, and the latter’s the way to go since that’s where the Jarvis Cocker duet is, as well as Faithfull’s great versions of Morrissey’s Dear God Please Help Me and this song, which sounds perfect coming from her can opener-like voice.
65. Vivian Girls, Tell The World
Since Saturday Looks Good to Me went down the crapper and I’m not actually sure what the Aislers Set are up to these days, the Vivian Girls officially now fill the void in my life where dubbed Girls In The Garage cassettes used to be.
64. Duffy, Rain On Your Parade
I hate deluxe editions of albums. A lot. But, annoyingly, at least three songs on the countdown were singles tacked-on to albums fading from the spotlight. (See also #67 and one yet to come.) Rain On Your Parade, Duffy’s James Bond homage, was slick and calculated (and a million times better than that Jack White/Alicia Keys mess), and it ended up being (by far) Duffy’s best single.
63. Dengue Fever, Mr. Orange
I wasn’t as into Dengue Fever’s Venus On Earth album as much as I thought I would be, considering how often I played 2005’s Escape From Dragon House; the newer record drags a little, and there’s not enough of singer Chhom Nimol’s Khmer-language freak-outs. Luckily there’s the lively Mr Orange, the last (and best) song on the album, to make up for some of the slower numbers in the middle.
62. Malcolm Middleton, Stay
Madonna covers can be an iffy thing; if you’re not Ciccone Youth, there’s a very good chance that the song is going to be horrible. (See: Kelly Osbourne’s Papa Don’t Preach, andthing by Mad’house, etc.) Luckily, mopey Scottish troubadour Malcolm Middleton covered Stay, a 1984 album track, rather than one of her better-known songs. It’s surprisingly moving, coming from half of the over-sexed Arab Strap. His version’s all folksy and contemplative where Madonna’s is produced within an inch of its life.
61. Britney Spears, Womanizer
I was revolted the first time I heard Bloc Party’s Mercury. The chorus was soooooooo repetitive, and the whole pitch-shifting thing annoyed the hell out of me. Little did I expect that just two months later Britney Spears would do pretty much the same thing and I would love it. It’s not her best song by any means, but it’s still insanely catchy.
Filed under: gay, hot, lists, music, the dan fogelberg and hair metal decade | Tags: the dan fogelberg and hair metal decade
[Sorry this dragged out so long...]
In 1980, pop radio was terrible. The charts were ruled by stuffy old farts like Kenny Rogers and Air Supply and Styx and effing Dan Fogelberg. Disco was on its way out, mainstream America wasn’t interested in punk, and that just left a lot of adult-oriented soft-rock trash.
Luckily, by about 1984 most of the old fogeys had been swept away to make room for a new breed of pop stars, ones who could sing and dance and who often came in different sizes and shapes and even colors. Some had elements of new wave, some the new post-disco dance music, and some were rooted in R&B. America was suddenly ruled by Bruce Sprinsteen and Madonna and Michael Jackson and Prince, icons who exuded creativity, independence, and sex despite the fact that they all had their flaws–Madonna’s teeth, Jackson’s then-unacknowledged lack of independence, Springsteen’s dark side, and Prince’s general toadiness, say. But they were all sexy, anyway, in a way that American pop audiences hadn’t experienced in some time.
In the UK, however, things were a little bit different. Gayer, really, would be the word. While there was no questioning the heterosexuality of Springsteen, the UK provided American audiences with George Michael, Boy George, a still-standing Elton John, and even groups like Soft Cell and Dead or Alive, none of whom could ever make the top 40 today. They existed in a flamboyant world of hairspray and bright colors. That style appealed to us Americans, too, but in an exotic sort of way. Sort of like how we really like unusual fruits, but only when they’re blended into juices or mixed into yogurt for us. Fear of becoming too familiar with the queer English might explain why most of those British artists of the era weren’t really successful for more than one album.
