Snap and Crackle's Groovy Revenge, Pt. III

DANCE

"YMCA"--Village People
The outrageous spirit of the era, embodied in a silly dance song with its own silly dance.  The two key components of disco:  pulse and sleaze.  So fun, not even abuse by lazy spoof artists can extinguish its charms.

"Boogie Fever"--The Sylvers
This act made much better music, but hey, James Jamerson just showed up and he brought pizza!

"Boogie Oogie Oogie"--A Taste of Honey
Get up and.  Sweeter than a double dose of honey wine.  Two chicks rocking guit-fiddles, whoa, what?
        *record scratch*
        *double-take pigeon*
        Groovy, quite.  Do not ask her name--just dance.

"Disco Lady"--Johnnie Taylor
A cultural landmark--the first number one hit with "disco" in the title.  "Oughta be on Soul Train"--unf, that's the panty-dropper right there.
        There's a danger in attaching too much bait to the hook; no fish will be fooled at the sight of so much temptation in one place.

"You Sexy Thing"--Hot Chocolate
I'll have a six-pack of vibrato to go, please.  Hasn't aged as well as agenda-driven editing suggests.

"Fly, Robin, Fly"--Silver Convention
I'll have a six-pack of words for here, please.  The first German act to nab a number one in the States, and a proven guilty pleasure.  Blame it on the bass, I guess.  Why the robin, though?  A decent bird.  A muted Baltimore Oriole, if I'm being honest, but at least they don't attack cardinals.  Unlike some other, more colorful birds I could name....

"(Shake, Shake, Shake) Shake Your Booty"--KC & The Sunshine Band
Party starter, party pusher, over here there and everywhere.  Put your treasure chest in the air and wave it like you kinda sorta care.  I get it, Time Life; "Get Down Tonight" would have made every other butt-bumper on the collection sound like Requiem Mass in D Minor in comparison.

"More, More, More"--Andrea True Connection
Crazy to think Linda Lovelace could have maybe had Helen Reddy's career.  Given Andrea's claim to fame, no surprise how stiff her single hit sounds, from her delivery to the brass to that vaunted piano breakdown.  The rare song structured pre-pre-chorus, pre-chorus and chorus.

"If I Can't Have You"--Yvonne Elliman
A stunner from one of the most important albums of the decade.  Love me, love this song.  The bros Gibb had the knack for dance-floor dramatics that stopped just short of ridiculous, insuring their tunes turned out timeless.  Funny, it's the vocal tracks that pushed me into love, and for years I had no clue it was even the culprit!  I blamed the string arrangement for a long time.

"Le Freak"--Chic
Need I tell you the legend of Chic?  No, I need not, for I trust that if you are not already aware, you will sooner than later take the initiative to confirm it for yourself.  Just don't blame me when you get lost in the rabbit hole.
        I don't know if people in the 70s--listeners or critics--were willing to recognize that dance/disco music was producing true classic material.  Between the best of Chic, the Donna Summer/Giorgio Moroder juggernaut and the Bee Gees' takeover during the last few years of the decade, the genre's detractors seem less like traditionalists concerned for the integrity of the art form and more like grouches with no rhythm.

"Rock Your Baby"--George McRae
The genre wasn't always at its best, but listeners didn't really seem to mind, so long as the groove persisted.  This sounds like mashed potatoes in search of gravy.

"Ring My Bell"--Anita Ward
The sins of the drums are absolved by the right deeds of the guitar.  I'm begging for an itch to scratch.

"I Just Want To Be Your Everything"--Andy Gibb
Everything here flows, freshness to freshness.  The path is a bit too straight,; I would have preferred "Shadow Dancing" here, one of the finest concoctions to escape the Lab Gibb.

"Rock the Boat"--Hues Corporation
Nearly as fun as swimming on concrete.  Suck on with yo' bad self.

"Turn the Beat Around"--Vicki Sue Robinson
When a person becomes ensnared in the music, poetry tends not to result.  The ideal is to not to stink up the joint like fish in the net would.  But holy mackerel, that percussion--so busy, so vibrant--leaves my brains scrambled with a drizzling of Texas Pete.  Killing me none too softly.

NOVELTY

"The Streak"--Ray Stevens
In 1973, Time magazine reported on the campus craze known as "streaking."  On a bet, a dare, or as a form of protest, naked students would run around the halls or on the field during athletic events.  This was not a recent fad, of course, but calling it "streaking" was.  It soon went beyond colleges.  The easily-pleased were content to run around their neighborhood at night.  Fanny-flashers with big dreams saved it for sporting events, and even to this day people are willing to be forever known as sex offenders just to run butt-ass naked in front of thousands.
        Stupid as all hell.  So if someone was going to write a stupid song about a stupid activity, it had to be the author of "Guitarzan" and "Cletus McHicks and His Band From the Sticks."  I was amused by this a child.  I also found Full House funny.  Ray Stevens is basically the male cast of Full House in one guy.

"Gonna Fly Now"--Bill Conti
A vehicle to victory for the universal underdog.  Conti works the hook like a speed bag.  I wish you luck in making it through more than five seconds without imagining yourself standing in front of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

"Indian Reservation"--Paul Revere and the Raiders
If you've never heard "Indian Reservation," you are automatically a better person than me.

"The Candy Man"--Sammy Davis, Jr.
Not better than the version from Willy Wonka, but pay dirt takes flight regardless.  The best song about a drug dealer not sung by Curtis Mayfield.  People gorging themselves with Pop Rocks, Sugar Daddys, Laffy Taffy and Now and Laters made room.

"Disco Duck"--Rick Dees
The last novelty song to reach the apex of the Hot 100.  Clearly, "Disco Duck" killed the population's patience for aural knickknacks.  A bit like the "Boss Fight" tune in the NES Ninja Gaiden, with far more quacking.  Dees, being a DJ from Memphis and not a singer from Memphis, shows a fondness for elongating syllables--one of the many cheap tricks of the not-singer.  Gimme DJ Paul any day.

"Happy Days"--Pratt & McClain
Imagine a crinkle boot stomping on a human face--forever.

"I'd Like To Teach the World To Sing"--The New Seekers 
 First it was "the Coke song," then it was "the Mad Men song."  Never has it been "the New Seekers song," but never was that the point.  A greater understanding of interconnectivity and advancement was the point.  You can't eliminate homelessness, vanquish hatred, wipe out famine, preserve nature or destroy the weapons of war, but you can crack open a soda and think on how great the planet would be if you could do that pull off even one of those feats.

"The Lion Sleeps Tonight"--Robert John
Everyone knows about "the mighty jungle," but who recalls the "peaceful village"?  That's why we need to learn to sing!

"Kung Fu Fighting"--Carl Douglas
Tis better to dance the Kung Fu than to fight it.  Tis best of all to not follow up your novelty song with another novelty song about the same damn topic, but I guess Carl's manager was also his favorite uncle.  How many kids spent their idle time at the bus stop practicing their "moves," filling the air with "hai!" and "hah!" until even their own fathers wanted to see them run over by a runaway pimpmobile?

"The Rapper"--The Jaggerz
Folksy cautionary tale about a slick-talking professor of Suave Prick 101.  Surely he didn't bat a thousand.  Certainly he was on the unfortunate end of a nut-shot or two.  There must be women in the world sufficiently savvy to just ignore the guy.  But thanks for the heads up, Jaggerz.  That "z" is so 90s.  (Worse fashion statement--JNCO jeans or platform shoes?  Only one can cause physical as well as mental anguish!  That has to count for something....)

"Put Your Hand in the Hand"--Ocean
Just one of several Canadian acts on Pop Goes the 70s, but the only overtly gospel track.  Cutesy on the surface, but touches on the stone upon which any good religion is built--shame.  Mother may I not care about this song beyond the drum break?

"Billy Don't Be A Hero"--Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods 
Originally recorded by Paper Lace.  Someone else's life flashed in front of my eyes the last time I heard this.

"Hooked on a Feeling"--Blue Swede
A cover.  All these white Swedes did was cover songs!  Pop culture needs to let this dog die in the alley already.  Stop taking it home and nursing it back to relative good health.  That "ooga-chucka" stuff is the factual worst.  Inserting it into your commercial is the most effective way to assure I will never purchase your product and may, in fact, actively root for its failure.  I'm not big on conspiracy theories, but I'm 77% sure that Blue Swede were created out of uranium, tapioca pudding, and the stray hairs of ABBA.

"The Cover of Rolling Stone"--Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show
A largely-listenable parody positing the Show as pill-popping, blow-snorting, Guru-consulting, groupie-banging bards in the Keatsian tradition.  "Largely," since they left in one of the messiest abortions of an electric guitar part I've ever heard.
        The happy ending is that the band did indeed make the cover...in caricature.  Yeesh.

"Don't Give Up On Us"--David Soul
 Do give up.  Tap out with both hands. 
        David Solberg was actually a folkie before landing his iconic role on Starsky and Hutch, but only eighteen people knew that, and none of them were American, so he remains a novelty.  When you're starving, you don't care that the broth is tasteless and the noodles are overcooked.  That's why it's important to keep your ears well-fed.

"The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia"--Vicki Lawrence
The timeline here is all futzy.  Not to mention the morals.  I can understand little sister blowing away her bro's errant spouse, but why'd she let him go down for a crime he didn't commit?  Speaking of...his sentencing and execution are pretty damn speedy even by the standards of Down South corruption.
        Some listeners were upset at the perceived exploitation of Southern stereotypes, but sometimes you can't tell a story without running the risk of feeding someone's prejudices.  Screw it, tell a story anyway.

"Spiders and Snakes"--Jim Stafford
"Crocodile Rock" without the "rocodile."  Was that Stafford's natural accent, or an affectation? Either is unpleasant, but only one is excusable.  The music grooves like swamp life in heat, but the lyrics are putrid.

"Life is a Rock (But the Radio Rolled Me)"--Reunion
Voiced by Joey Levine (the copper throat behind "Yummy Yummy Yummy"), this right here is Namedrop City, the original city built on rock 'n' roll.  "We Didn't Start the Fire" for people who don't care about world history, "Life is a Rock" would have benefited from a vocalist who didn't sound like Bruno Kirby after a helium hit.  (But not as much as we all would have benefited from never existing.)
        "Sam's cookin'."  Garrruuuuhhh.  "Carly Simon, I behold her."  Buuleeeuuugghhhaaarrr!

Snap and Crackle's Groovy Revenge, Pt. II

WOMEN OF THE 70S

"Delta Dawn"--Helen Reddy
Tanya Tucker's version, recorded while she was still in the amniotic sac, is better.  But that's not the one on here, now is it?  Check it, the sequel to Gone With the Wind, with Rhett continuing to give none of the damns.  Cryptic enough to keep people re-listening, and a safer pick than the Australian's other number one, "I Am Woman."  (Which for all its flaws was emblematic of the increasing social mobilization of progressive females.)

"Mr. Big Stuff"--Jean Knight
Stay loose, baby, but remember to keep it tight.  The implied strength shines brighter than any ululation or bleat.  Flash, dash or cash, let's see you take it to the bank with that ass.

"Brand New Key"--Melanie
If this mononymous one-hit wonder taught me anything, it's the lesson that women need to demand more of themselves.  Ladies, let us endeavor to be more awesome overall.  Let us never be cloying, clinging Melanies wheeling after jive turkeys in hopes of catching a crumb or two of fickle affection.
        Think of all the sexual euphemisms you've ever heard used in the service of song, is there even one more ludicrous than roller skating?*  Melanie and INXS have both tried it, and at least the INXS song made me laugh, because "abrupt ska chorus" will kill arousal quick as a bullet to the brain.

"Torn Between Two Lovers"--Mary MacGregor
The fruits of feminism do not follow the same ripening process.  An airhead's confession of infidelity to her man (as written by a man, the "Peter" third of Peter, Paul & Mary) captured the interest of a clearly-bored nation.  Mary MacGregor sounds like a diaphanous gown.  Hard to imagine her enjoying sex, or least worthwhile sex.

"The Morning After"--Maureen McGovern
Winner of the Oscar for Best Song in 1972.  Hilarious, given that from top to bottom it screams "Made For TV."  Only the second-worst Academy Award given out that year, though.

"Have You Never Been Mellow"--Olivia Newton-John
Cruise control pop.  Don't skip breakfast, skip this song.

"Right Back Where We Started From"--Maxine Nightingale
I wake up, I want to see the sun.  I cue up a song, I want to hear the chorus.  Farewell, blues; hello, reset button.  ('Cause the "resist" button is stuck.)  Naive probably, wicked certainly.  A country ready to unite in dance had their boisterous anthem.  So pick up your feet and stick in your teeth. Even if it is equivalent to plopping a wig on a pig, what's the harm so long as no fibers get in the bacon?
        For sure blasting this one in Chinatown if the Caps win the Cup this year.

"Midnight At the Oasis"--Maria Muldaur
Mildly exotic, lightly erotic--how sexy is getting sand lodged in the dark places, really?  That's what fantasy is for, folks.  A sun-loving city girl can get lost and found in seconds.

"Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves"--Cher
The Waltons co-existed in millions of American homes with the Bunkers.  Men looked to Archie and saw their fathers.  The men of M*A*S*H provided a glimpse of what they, the sons, could become.  Women recognized themselves in Laverne and/or Shirley, while obsessing over which Angel they would be.
        Which man looked at Sonny Bono and said, "Far out!  I gotta get my mustache looking like that!"?  Which woman considered Cher and wanted her life?  Seriously.  What woman, without the benefit of personal stylists, wants to deal with that much hair cascading down from her head?
        All I'm saying is, how the hell did television not die after five years of Sonny and Cher variety shows?!  It's a minor miracle.  Oh, the song?  Who cares loses.

"You're So Vain"--Carly Simon
A sophisticated, smart aleck classic.  Simon as consistently claimed that the record addresses multiple men, not just a single rakish paramour, and the mystery continues to intrigue.
        That bass intro is no enigma, though.  God.  Damn.

"Higher and Higher"--Rita Coolidge
Choker.  I'm not referring to the accessory.  I'm making a request.
        All the high stakes of a Connect Four Battle Royale, all the romance of a sitting at a stop sign.  This song, "Undercover Angel" and "Do You Wanna Make Love" all placed in the Billboard top 15 for 1977.  You see, then, why punk rock had to happen.  The music world needed punk, needed new wave, needed no wave, needed those insolent outliers who bristled at the idea of achieving mega-success or being background noise for people who treated songs and albums like just more accessories cluttering up their lives.  Anxieties mount, frustrations multiply, and not everyone will run to the same outlet.  Some will create their own. 

R&B/Soul Groups

"Wild Flower"--The New Birth
The struggle is long.  Chin resting on a sunken chest, swollen eyes shut, waiting for the ache in her bones to fade.  The future is unimaginable.  But, in the absence of strife, a person has nothing to prove.

"Too Late To Turn Back Now"--Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose
Fat bee's take longer to die after they lose their stinger.

"Love Train"--The O'Jays
A hot licks unity anthem that entered the US Top 40 on the same day that the Paris Peace Accords were signed.  Earth days still ain't easy, but songs like "Love Train" make them easier.  Contrast this with "What's Going On."  Now that's not precisely fair, especially to the O'Jays, but while their song makes people feel good and hopeful, Marvin Gaye's shattering lament confronted listeners with the problems they were trying to avoid.  Both tracks are quality and both are necessary.  Now name two modern equivalents.

"Everybody Plays the Fool"--The Main Ingredient
"Dig this."  Ah, the infallible wisdom of perspective.  So many R&B and soul classics of the era feel friendly, even outright familial.  Fittingly, "Fool" starts with a literal talking-to.  Love is tougher than life.

"When Will I See You Again"--The Three Degrees
A redoubtable opponent, romance.  Every lyric is a question, so permit me to add my own:  "How long could he realistically stay away?"
        Amazing moment inspired by the infomercial #68: "Wait, the Three Degrees?  They were a real group?"
        Oh, Sanford and Son.  You tricked at least one white boy.

"Lady Marmalade"--Labelle
Christina Aguilera and her cadre did not ruin a classic.  They simply turned mud into dog poo.  I don't want to step in either one.  Why is this so beloved?  The French?  Well if that's the sort of thing that pricks your scalp, behold:  Das ist Müll, meine Schwester. 

"Best of My Love"--The Emotions
You wanna know what love is?  You want I should show you?  Too bad, I can only tell: love is when you inform your partner that cake is what's for dinner, and they don't even inquire what kind, they just roll with ya.  Love.

"Fire"--The Pointer Sisters
Circadian shenanigans.  Who can sleep with all that shaking going on?  Don't know what to do, total skip of the heart.  I would have mistaken this for a tune from the early 80s first time I heard it, had I not already known better.
        Convection carries away energy and brain cells.  Of all the romances to reference in your song, you pick two of the most tragic?

"Give Me Just a Little More Time"--The Chairmen of the Board
All hail patience.  Bake, don't fry.  The horns are pretty convincing.  Just don't crowd me.

"The Cisco Kid"--War
What.  A.  Stud.  That groove is a leading cause of "lemon face."  The words come in, water to the shore, and as soon as it recedes, here comes the sandpipers to peck and patter.
        (So glad this was selected over "Low Rider," which I fear has been indelibly stained by George Lopez.)

"Want Ads"--Honey Cone
Efficient girl-group fluff.

"O-o-h Child"--The Five Stairsteps
Uplift where we belong.  Rebirth and rejuvenation.  A person doesn't need to have all the answers, they just need to show concern.  Dare to care, hope to help.
        The fade-out is a bag fulla marbles and gravel, though.

"TSOP"--MFSB (feat. The Three Degrees)
(Largely) instrumental Philly soul (train) from the whole GD family.  This shit here's double knit.  The ladies aren't vital, but I doubt anyone would kick them out of bed for eating crackers.


*Yes.  Fishing

Snap and Crackle's Groovy Revenge, Pt. I

DUOS

"Stumblin' In"--Suzi Quatro and Chris Norman
An eye-opening love.  A heart-opening love.  A thigh-opening love.  The leather-clad bassist that I recall from her cameo in the "Hospital" episode of AbFab teams up with a guy I recall not at all.  Suzi's predictably fine, but Chrissy is staggering on fumes.  A Neil Diamond impersonator attempting a Joe Cocker impression is all I can tell you.
        Running a hand over the painted brick of their apartment building, almost running a hand over their hair (until they remember all that product in there), waiting for the man.

"Love Will Keep Us Together"--Captain & Tennille
 I want to hate "Love Will Keep Us Together."  I hate myself for not hating "Love Will Keep Us Together."  Nothing here is unexpectedly awkward.  The melody is fairly catchy and mildly sophisticated.  My only real beef here is with the Captain:  who changes their name from Dragon?  "I know I have a last name with the same spelling and pronunciation as a mythical flame-spewing lizard, but babe, check out this hat!"  I would not marry a man like that.  I would not go out on a second date with a man like that.*

"How Do You Do?"--Mouth & MacNeal
Dutch duo farts out a hit.  Every day for one week they ate naught but Play-Doh pancakes sprinkled with lead paint chips and drank naught but bubble bath straight from the bottle.  The only thing more inexplicable than the success of "How Do You Do?" is how it careens from decent attempt at mid-tier Southern rock to polka.  Perfect soundtrack for a one-act play about a one-man band and the OCD pastor's wife he's besotted with.
    
"A Horse With No Name"--America
Thing about face-melter brownies, you can't scarf down just two.  This still gets mistaken for a Neil Young song on occasion, but the lyrics gather purple moss in a way his never did.  (Twist: the horse is the one experiencing the psychotic break.)  Heat-haze harmonies shine on shine on the hourglass containing regenerating sand.

"I'd Really Love To See You Tonight"--England Dan and John Ford Coley
Sweat-beaded skin stretches on a summer night when love is important, but sex even more so.  Pretty guiltless way to spend a couple minutes of life despite (due to?) sounding as though it was ghost-penned by Joey Scarbury for use as the theme to a success-proof network drama series.
        "There's a warm wind blowin', the stars are out."  For a long while I wondered if the lyric was actually "There's a warm wind blowin' the stars around," which is far more evocative and thus, I really should have known better.

"Summer Breeze"--Seals and Crofts
Oh hello there, big bro of England Dan!  Six hours by the grill, six Bloody Mary's, countless sloppy kisses.  The wind swirls all the sweetness.  The sun feels fine, but sun-kissed skin feels finer.

"Rock and Roll Heaven"--The Righteous Brothers
An ignominious return to glory, but the fault lies not at the feet of either "brother."  The vocals are great.  The band is one hell of a:  distorted guitar, staccato horns, happy keys, solemn strings.  Blame, rather, writers Johnny Stevenson and Alan O'Day, men who managed one decent line ("If you believe in forever, then life is just a one-night stand") then blew it all to hell in the verses.  "Jimi gave us rainbows," oh shut up.  Your mama gave you rainbow suspenders. 

"One Toke Over the Line"--Brewer & Shipley
Amtrak first laid rails a year after the release of this bumpy ride that smells like tweed and weed no matter how many air fresheners are hanging around. 

"Rich Girl"--Hall & Oates
A pop/rock/soul blend that hinted at what the next decade would bring from these Philly flyers.  Every spoiled brat needs a shit sandwich (with just a slip of syrup) served to them. 

No Carpenters on this collection, by the way.  Guess Richard's stingy with the rights. 

COUNTRY POP

In 1975 alone, six songs made it to the top of both the Billboard Hot 100 and Country Singles charts.  Traditionalists bristled, but if only they could have known about the Shania Twain to come!

"Let Your Love Flow"--The Bellamy Brothers
Honest and hypnotic, all bright rays and beams prettifying sparkling streams that you can and should drink from.  Rinse and repeat till rapture...won't take long.  The equivalent of a Buzzfeed list comprised wholly of pictures of dogs gobbling down pies.  YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHICH BREED LOVES KEY LIME!

"Rhinestone Cowboy"--Glen Campbell
One of those dual chart-toppers that also shows and tells how persistence pays off.

"Here You Come Again"--Dolly Parton
The main melody of "Love Will Keep Us Together" rejiggered and entrusted to a much more accomplished vocalist.  I'll keep it one thousand, Dolly could sell a swimming pool to a cat.  (She even requested the presence of steel guitar to keep the song's sound sufficiently "country.")  Her fickle ticker stands no chance against a single soft touch or a single jade look.  Or so the story goes.  Methinks she's got a trick or two to go.

"Take Me Home, Country Roads"--John Denver
The state song of West Virginia, a place it refers to as "almost heaven."  If heaven is a place that makes a person desire death as soon as they wake up, sure.  There is much about Appalachia to admire, believe it or not.  You will find little of it in West Virginia.

"My Maria"--B.W. Stevenson
The company and comfort of well-placed shade should never be overlooked, especially when it appears during life's transitory periods.  Straddling the line between jaunty and junky, between yodeler and the coyote he's being eaten by, "My Maria" makes for a good enough song.  It's place in my heart, however, is inextricably linked to the infomercial.  A long shot of Bee Dub, strummin' and singin' on one end of a bridge.  I sadly haven't seen the entire video, but I hope that it's just one static shot of him snailing it towards the camera on the other end of the bridge.

"Rose Garden"--Lynn Anderson 
One of the decade's biggest crossover hits, thanks in no tiny part to a first line that assures the rest of the track wrote itself.  The band earns theirs and then some.  The Seventies was the decade of many a thing, including The Decade of Discernible Female Country Vocalists.

"Don't Pull Your Love Out"--Hamilton, Joe Frank and Reynolds
A lotta fanfare for what is essentially triple-tracked B.J. Thomas.

"It's a Heartache"--Bonnie Tyler
Listeners must have worried about the state of their speakers.  Not everyday you hear a rusty blade with a three-a-day habit singing at you, after all.  Bonnie's steel wool-lined vocal cords are the only thing here approaching interesting.

"(Hey Won't You Play) Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song"--B.J. Thomas
The only thing sadder than a lost love is typing out that title, which remains the longest of any number one song in Billboard history.  At least until Will.I.Am comes along with "Shake It Shake It Shake It (Yeah Girl That Booty)" to share the honor.
        The quest for double vision involves one hand slapping a denim-covered knee and one hand clutching condensation in a plea for oblivion.  Jerks forth more mucus than tears, really.

"I Can Help"--Billy Swan
Another ditty that did double duty atop the pop and country charts.  'Bout as subtle as a hammer's face striking a human's nose.  A Farfisa-powered** declaration of dependability from the anti-Daryl Dragon.

TREACLE TART

"One Bad Apple"--The Osmonds
Hey, it's the host and his dumb brothers!  So sweet, so innocent, so terrible.  Starts with "yeah yeah," rhymes "girl" with "world," and hinges on one of the more poorly-constructed choruses ever to be.  Intended for the Jackson 5, who had much riper fruits to bite into and instead recorded "ABC."  (Now that was AGC.)

"Puppy Love," Donny Osmond
To quote my man Lenny out in Springfield:  "Stop insisting!"  Music for the overly-precious "females 7-12" demographic who lost hours of life staring at shiny head shots and didn't even move their hands once.  They swooned, but I just wanna go out and roll in some mud.

"Knock Three Times"--Tony Orlando and Dawn
So weird.  Dude, just have her yell real loud, YES or NO.  But, some guys just can't handle hearing "no."  (Hoo boy.)  Well, some girls don't like being told "I can feel your body swayin'" by a stranger who can't even see them.

"The Night Chicago Died"--Paper Lace
Grand opening, grand closing.  British people re-interpret American history (and geography).  The drummer sings lead, but what exactly did he sing?  Crap.  Utter and runny.  If only the Osmonds had recorded a song about that great leader of men, President Churchill.

"Heartbeat (It's a Love Beat)"--The DeFranco Family
Choreographed Canadian claptrap with matching pantsuits.  The Osmonds were a diluted J5, so one might guess the DeFrancos were a diluted Osmonds.  Perish the thought.  A diluted Partridge Family, more like, so they sped up the verse melody of "I Think I Love You" and promised an unforgettable fireworks display they couldn't deliver. 

"Julie, Do You Love Me"--Bobby Sherman
Blue-eyed, yes, but not especially ensouled.  I first saw Sherman on a beach-y episode of The Monkees, but it was years after until I finally heard a full song of the man's.  I promise that I will never voluntarily hear a second one.

"Beach Baby"--First Class
Second-rate...if my guts are rumbling from grub and goon, that is.  And if it's summertime.  British memories of 1950s Americana, all sock hops and soda pops, Chevys and levees, woo the unearned nostalgia just keeps on truckin'.  Remember "oh-oh-oh"?  Remember "whoa-whoa" and "shamma-lamma-ding-dong"?  Remember when shock therapy wasn't so frowned upon?

"Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)"--Edison Lighthouse
Homogenized hippie girl, no traces of rebellion or cannabis to be found, her smile a mile of cotton candy.  Edison didn't even invent the lighthouse, you nitwits.

"(You're) Having My Baby"--Paul Anka and Odia Coates
The recipient of a scathingly sarcastic honor from the National Organization for Women, which is understandable as it represents everything wrong with humanity.  But this was the very first interracial duet to top the Hot 100--wherefore were y'all, NAACP? 
        Of all the sins contained within, the use of "seed" in a non-agrarian context is the most atrocious.  Any other thoughts I have remain inchoate ones.  Fuck me--and please, use protection.

"Shannon"--Henry Gross
Not a lamentation sung in loving memory of a deceased mother, sister, girlfriend, wife, or even niece.  It is, rather, about a dog.  Not Henry's dog; Shannon was Carl Wilson's dog.  I suppose the falsetto was inevitable.  Here's what a sociopath thinks grief sounds like. 

"December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night)"--The Four Seasons
0-2, drummers singing lead!
        Originally titled "December 5, 1933" and concerned with the end of Prohibition.  I find making America legally drunk again a much more entertaining subject than the sexual awakening of some unworldly schmo.  Whoever loves this colossal crapsack needs to avoid speaking to me about it, always. 

"Afternoon Delight"--Starland Vocal Band
Ain't never been a field as corny.  The result of a fiber-rich diet, right here.  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but they will never make me horny.  Is dude trying to make a tackle box/vagina metaphor?  Weirdos.  The least sexy song about sex ever sexed.  (Although "Marvin Gaye" by Charlie Puth and Meghan Trainor is a real close number two.)


*Toni Tennille wouldn't have even gotten the honor of a first date with my ex.  "She is the epitome of the bland Seventies white woman," he opined, as we began what was probably watch ten.  "She's the total opposite of what I find sexy."
        "But she's got the long bob with the immaculate bangs goin' on," I mildly protested.
        "That's not, no, it's not enough.  She just looks like a grasshopper with hair."
        "At least the Captain loved her."
        "The Captain can go fuck himself with his own stupid hat."

**Yes, the instrument that distinguished the burgeoning new wave music of the decade, taken to the top by Billy Swan.
 

Snap and Crackle's Groovy Revenge, Introduction

"Now, all the most unforgettable, one of a kind Seventies radio hits are together!"

Ten CDs.  Fifteen songs per disc.  150 songs from the "Me" Decade.  How could I NOT fall in love?

The first place I called my very own sat at the bottom of a sloping street on the east side of my hometown.  I had been born and raised on the west side, but there was nothing overtly symbolic in my relocation.  I sought an affordable area in which to live and breathe, to do and be, and a two-story duplex located a mile from my job for just over 500 bucks a month rung the bell.

For a time, I shared said space with my then-boyfriend (who years later is still my closest confidant).  For a time, he and I decided to battle the anxieties that plagued as individuals, together, within "cozy" confines distinguished by a box staircase the width of a casket and party walls a newborn could slap through.  On the weekends, we fought off sleep together.  The TV aided and abetted this criminal activity.  I had never cottoned to the campy joys of infomercials, but then came that one early AM when our attention was grabbed by Time Life's Pop Goes the '70s.

Often, I struggle to remember what my life was like before I saw that infomercial.  Milquetoast entertainment icon Donny Osmond and alleged television personality Patricia Kara stood on a garishly-decorated sound stage, reciting hokum-pokum through mouths at half-smile (as if mourning the death of dignity).  The Seventies!  Social change!  Bright colors!  Crazy dudes in crazy duds!  Sedaka is back!  Pop Goes the 70s is the collection for older people who are scared that the Feds will break down their door the second their first download completes!  And if you don't trust paid celebrities, just have a look and a listen!  Thirty minutes of song credits scrolling over "live" performance footage of select tracks.  I regret to inform the reader that the full infomercial is no longer online, but luckily I sat through the thing in excess of twenty times.  Yes, it was that entertaining to behold.  It made insomnia fun again.  Everyone involved was dressed like they'd lost a bet.

That half-hour of salesmanship is my primary positive memory of that place.  The negative recollections--involving ornery neighbors, sketchy after hours shenanigans, and my ongoing struggles with physical and mental health--are really minor quibbles compared to slow motion footage of Gino Vannelli.

Initially I intended to make this a review of the actual advertisement.  I changed my mind even before its disappearance from the Internet, thankfully, so get ready for another TJMD track-by-track breakdown.  Rather than proceed disc by disc, however, I've separated the songs into nine categories:  Duos, Country Pop, Treacle Tart, Women of the 70s, R&B/Funk Groups, Dance, Novelty, Pop/Rock Groups and Men of the 70s.  You will note some are more sparsely populated than others, and many songs in one category could have fit snug into another.  In the end they were my decisions to make, and I stand by each of them.  And we're all wearing matching tracksuits. 

Happy Endings Are For Fanfiction: The Force Awakens Review

(I attended a 7:21 screening of The Force Awakens on Thursday, December 17th, with my best friend and fellow life-nerd who as a young fella memorized the scripts of all three original films, thank you very much.  This review is, then, based off of a single viewing.  Also, spoilers.  Lots of them.)

Born in 1977, raised alongside a brother who had an eleven-year head start and a rapacious appetite for movies, I was exposed to Star Wars early on.  By age five, my obsession with The Empire Strikes Back was such that I had the script memorized and would eschew sheep for the words of Lawrence Kasdan and Leigh Brackett on nights when sleep proved elusive.  At age six, I sat with big bro and our mom in the movie theater to watch the third and ostensible final film in the saga,  Return of the Jedi. 

As children do, I hopped from one infatuation to the other--no group of people had more fun doing that than 80s Babies, trust me--but a choice few passions stuck to my temporal lobe like a Mynock to a window.  Star Wars is in that select group.

I made of The Force Awakens the same request I make of any film, album, or book:  Whether I love you, hate you, or think you'll do in a pinch, show me that you care.  What I was shown that evening was a Star Wars movie redolent of the saga's glory days without reeking of feeble rehash.*

The action picks up thirty years after ROTJ, with the conflict now between The Resistance (led by General Leia) and The First Order (commanded by Supreme Leader Snoke).  In addition to staving off evil, Leia is on the hunt for her brother Luke Skywalker, a disgraced Jedi Master who has made himself scarce.

There you are.  Simple story.  Not a whiff of midichlorians.  Possibly no word ending in "-ian" was uttered (again, I've only seen it the once).  No Ian McDiarmid, for sure.  In fact, no Ian's, period.

TFA is distinguished by frenetic action, narrative intrigue, and well-earned humor.  The opening sequence on planet Jakku displays each quality nicely.  Flying Ace Poe Dameron receives a memory drive from wise old guy Lor San Tekka.  Said drive contains a map that leads to the whereabouts of Luke.  On cue, the village is beset by ships and stormtroopers.  Lasers ensue.  Poe is able to pass the map along to his ball-bodied droid, BB-8, before being captured by a caped, masked baddie named Kylo Ren, whom Poe wastes no time in mocking.  Joke's on Poe, though, when he's dragged aboard Ren's command shuttle, tortured (revealing that the map is in a BB-8) and rescued by a conflicted Stormtrooper, who we have already seen as a guy in dire need of a paper bag.  The pair haul ass in a TIE Fighter--eventually--and blast shit to space dust.  It's all very familiar and fantastic.  The turncoat trooper, FN-2187, is rechristened "Finn" by his savior, because it is so clearly adventure time.

So when they crash land on Jakku, and Poe seems to perish along with the TIE fighter, it behooves the audience to remember a great rule of Star Wars:  if you don't see the body, anything is still possible. 

Despite a proclivity for panic attacks, Finn is also easy to root while wondering what exactly his story is.  Likewise, Rey.  Rey is a scavenger who was abandoned on Jakku at a young age.  (5, perhaps?)  She spends her days looting fallen AT-ATs for parts which may then be exchanged for food.  A lonely life, until she prevents BB-8 from certain dismemberment.  Later, she refuses to trade him in for what looks to be half-a-year worth of grub.  Who needs to eat when you've got a droid buddy?

The new good guys are great, so what of the new baddies?  Thankfully, likewise.  The aforementioned Snoke (who ain't Darth Plagueis) appears as a gargantuan hologram with a disfigured face.  Answering to him are stick-assed space Nazi General Hux and Vader yen-to-be Ren.  Hux and Ren have a sibling rivalry thing happening without the added pain of actual blood relation, each young man struggling to prove to Daddy Snoke that they are the most nefarious prick in all the galaxy.  But honestly, that's squat bubkes compared to the battle being waged inside Ren--the son of Han Solo and grandson of Darth Vader.  Light side?  Dark side?  The immovable force meets the immovable force!  Ren seeks counsel from grandpa's helmet, which has gone all cookies 'n' cream in the three decades since ROTJ.  How'd he end up with that old thing?  Guys, guys--we have more movies coming.  Maybe mysteries will be solved, maybe they will remain mysteries. 

Finn and Rey meet because the former is just walking around Jakku with a dead pilot's jacket on, and BB-8 gets all mad and shock-y (not uncommon in this series).  Cute, but not very wise, considering the First Order has been looking for the adorable high roller. Chase!  Chase!  Culminating in my favorite reveal of the entire movie.  The Millennium Falcon is such a magnificent piece of shit (that I futilely put on my wish list for five consecutive Christmases) that even watching it crash and careen is an exhilarating experience.  You know, like when Buffalo Bills fans try tailgate wrestling. 

With the Falcon's reappearance, I began warming in my seat for reasons unrelated to spontaneous urination.  Star Wars!  Motherfucker!  Star Wars!  Then she gets captured by a larger ship and I'm all, whoa that was quick.  Finn and Rey hide out and await the arrival of whatever well-armed malevolence they fell prey to.  Except it's not bad guys that step on board--it's the best guys.  It's Han Solo and Chewbacca.  If your theater did (does) not explode in non-/pre-verbal exclamations of exquisite joy at the very sight, and you didn't (don't) respond by yelling some variant of "Holy crap you people suck," well, I'm not sure who to judge the harshest.

Han is older and in some ways wiser; when Rey and Finn ask if the Jedi were real, the former skeptic tells them plainly:  it is all real.  But, in other ways, Han hasn't changed at all, so when two gangs bum rush the show, each demanding what the rogue owes them, who's really surprised?  He tries to yak his way out of trouble, but the newbies screwing around and unwittingly unleashing unholy beasts works much better.  The brouhaha results in the First Order learning of Solo's involvement and Snoke ordering Ren to end his internal war by eliminating his useless father and giving himself over to the Dark Side completely.

The heroes escape to planet Takodana, home of a badass catina owned by Wookie-chaser Maz Kanata.  Finn's all, later guys, and Rey wanders around with BB-8, entering a vault that contains a light saber.  Like any sensible being, she grabs it…and experiences a "Force vision."  The Force, that gooder-than-glitterwands energy field that surrounds all?  It is strong with this one. 

Things are getting much too peaceful for a film containing the words "Star Wars" so here come the First Order!  And here come the X-wings ,whaaaaat?!  That's right, led by flyboy nonpareil Poe Dameron!  (What did I tell you about habeas corpus?)   Ren snatches Rey up--he is very interested in this scrappy scavenger trash--and his failure during interrogation further spices an already fragrant dish.  Then Rey uses a Jedi Mind Trick to escape--don't forget, she needed multiple attempts--and it's time for dessert. 

The First Order have figured out that Death Stars are globular blast sites and have instead conjured up something called Starkiller Base--a planet converted into a super-destroyer of other, less fortunate planets.  General Hux has a firm grasp on the importance of pomp and loquaciousness, delivering an oddly-stirring "Dark Side uber alles" speech to an army of arm-hoisting Stormtroopers before the ka-blast! that turns the Hosnian system into space dust, devastating the New Republic.  Next up?  D'Qar, home of the Resistance HQ. 

Of course the Resistance has a predictable plan-infiltrate, handicap, attack--but there's more at stake.  Leia has refused to give up on her son, and will not (or cannot) shake the feeling that some good still resides inside of him, no matter Han's assertion that the Vader influence is by now far too strong to hope for salvation.  Still, he agrees to try.

The confrontation between father and son is gutting.  Han approaches his son--Ben--as a humbled rogue.  There's a metric screw-ton of guilt, shame, remorse and anger happening, evident in the heaviness of their expressions and movements.  Words are exchanged because that's how these things go. 

The moment I realized Han and Ben the Ren had an audience, I knew how the conversation would end.  (Callbacks rule, except when they suck.)  My heart rate went super-hummingbird from Han's first step until his last breath.  He didn't give up on his child; Ben gave up on himself.  He's hollowed-out.  There is no more Ben Solo.

Finn and Rey lost a father figure, and are devastated.  And Chewie?  Oh man.  (Kudos as well to Carrie Fisher for nailing the moment Leia intuits the horrific turn of events. Perhaps once the Starkiller Base is destroyed, Leia should take a moment all to herself, just her and a cup of some weirdly-hued milk, and come to terms with the reality that her son is a cruel, capricious, petulant, traitorous, patricidal butt-berry.)

Aw man!  BB-8 was so pumped to see R2-D2 and so bummed when informed that Luke's old droid's been in "low power mode" since things went ass over teakettle. 

The climactic battles go right in the pantheon alongside the most riveting of the series.  The saber duels (Ren/Finn, Ren/Rey) are sloppier than fans are accustomed to, but what's more realistic?  You want impeccable choreography, watch Revenge of the Sith.  You want to KO the air, wait for the moment when Luke's old saber flies to its rightful home. 

Poe and company (featuring Porkins Jr., or at least that's what I kept calling him) do it to it.  Poe is basically the new Han, a kickass pilot with dashing looks and acerbic wit, a bad boy fighting alongside the good guys for the great cause.  Bye bye, Starkiller Base.  (And see you next movie, every significant villain!)

Back at D'Qar, the celebration is understandably subdued.  But, great news:  R2's back!  One beam from BB-8, another from R2 and boom:  a completed map to Luke Skywalker.  Rey, Chewbacca and BB-8 all take off on the Millennium Falcon (whoa) and head to a remote island.  Rey makes the trek up a stone staircase, until she reaches the last step and sees a hooded figure standing several feet away, back turned.  When finally he turns, he drops the cover and Rey (and we) are greeted with the sight of an older, careworn Luke Skywalker, a master of the Force wounded by wisdom gone awry, good intentions and greater actions all for naught.  I mean, he couldn't turn his own nephew away from the Dark Side.  The same nephew that slaughtered kids.  The same nephew that just jabbed a light saber through his own father.  Luke is therefore indirectly responsible for the murder of his old friend-turned-brother-in-law as well as the two most heartbreaking moments of his sister's life.  (Poor Leia, she must be really yearning for the days when her hugely malevolent father made her watch as her home planet was destroyed.)  Rey holds out the saber, silently beseeching the old master to accept once more what is rightfully his…or is it?

What a goddamn movie.  The conflicts, both on and offscreen, are compelling enough to send an entranced viewers head spinning until it steams.  Compared to any of the prequels--unfair but inevitable--The Force Awakens flows more naturally.  It is, additionally, more fun, funnier, feistier and flashier. 

The (very) minor controversy surrounding Finn and Rey, deeming them franchise-killing concessions to political correctness, should be revisited if only to be pointed at, laughed at, and pitied for perhaps two seconds before laughing at it some more.  These are two well-written, well-acted characters brimming with a strength and decency that represents the best within us.  It's fascinating to watch as each of them struggles to process their individual capabilities and destinies, in search of a man who for most of their lives they regarded as mere myth.  No bones thrown, no tokens inserted, Rey is not only a successful addition to the Star Wars saga, she is already one of the most iconic female characters in the history of cinema.   Girls will want to be her, and guess what?  Some boys will too.

But nah, this ain't The Rey Show.  The Force Awakens benefits from an abundance of engaging players on the classic stage--likable or detestable, I cared about them, their pasts and future as well as their presents playing out in front of me.  Another huge check in its column (for me, given my age) is something that was absent from Return of the Jedi and the prequels: the cliffhanger aspect.  Thus, the questions left unanswered after 134 minutes are multitudinous.

Who the hell is Rey?  There are four schools of thoughts, each built on lots of varying size, and of course I dropped in on each of them.  Took a seat in the back, audibly chewed two sticks of gum at once, skimmed a relevant text, and only ever raised my hand to complain of ovary pain. 

1)  She's Luke's daughter. 
2)  She's Leia's daughter

These seem to be the most popular guesses.  Given that Star Wars is the story of the Skywalker clan, I'd be stunned if Rey doesn't turn out to be the offspring of one of Anakin and Padme's twins (she even resembles Natalie Portman).  I lean towards Luke; wouldn't it be most fitting, most emotional if he trains his own child in the ways of the Force as a massive step towards redemption?  Then you get Ren vs Rey Pt. Deux--Killin' Cousins.

Leia as Rey's mom is the theory clung to most tenaciously by fans who just can't seem to abandon the EU Solo-Organna family tale.  This would set up Ren vs. Rey Pt. Deux--Sibling Rivalry. 

(But then why do neither Han or Leia have any peculiar reaction to her?  Why do we see Rey and Leia embrace when Rey returns to the base on D'Qar?  Surely she wasn't the only character to offer Leia condolences.   Then again, we do see her behind the controls of the Falcon more than once, and Han offers her a spot on the ship pretty damn quick-like...

3) She's Obi-Wan's granddaughter.

About that light saber…yeah, it was Luke's once upon a time, and Anakin's…but Obi-Wan held onto it for longer than either of them.  His voice is one of several heard during Rey's vision.  And hey, Ben and Satine were pretty good friends.  Pretty, pretty good.

Being either a Skywalker or Kenobi also makes her transition from scrounging sand-sledder to saber-wielding star warrior utterly believable. 

Ren vs Rey Pt. Deux--This One's For Grandpa!

4) She was one of Luke's Padawans

One of the luckier ones, more specifically.  Works if you believe that Luke would have imbued her with a sensitivity to the Force and/or futzed with her memory before sending her away.  I'm not a fan of this one because I like keeping it in the family--but it wouldn't be a dealbreaker.

Was Kylo Ren really experiencing a crisis of faith--or was he just carrying out Snoke's order in the cruelest manner possible?  And what precipitated Ben Solo's turn to the Dark Side?  Luke and Leia have Vader in them as well, so was it just a matter of Snoke being the sort of father figure the boy craved?

Is Snoke Darth Plagueis?  No.  Stop wondering.

Watching BB-8 zip and bloop along is so fun I kinda forgot to wonder why the hell there's even a map to begin with.  Did Luke want to eventually be found? 

Where can I get one of those beat-ass X-wing pilot dolls that Rey was chilling with? 

Maz Kanata has Luke's saber.  How?  "That's a question for another time."  Like 2017? 

How will Episode 8 begin?  Ten years passed from the end of Episode I to the start of II; three years passed from the end of IV to V.  There has never been a film in the saga that picked up immediately from where the preceding left off.  I think a year--the same gap between V and VI--would be best for Episode 8. 

See you in two years.



*If director/co-writer J.J. Abrams is slavish to the original trilogy--A New Hope, especially--or attuned to what fans desire/deserve from the seventh Star Wars film--is entirely up to the individual.  Leading the series in a daring direction story-wise is not bad just because Lucas half-assed the prequels, and some have expressed disappointment at the lack of innovation in TFA.  Understandable.  Conversely, returning to a tried-true formula is not good simply because it led to unfathomable success.  Said formula can be misread; the ingredients can be corrupted, corners can be cut. 

The Peanuts Movie: A Mini-Review

A more thorough review will appear once the film has been released on DVD, with screencaps.

Until then, join me as I think back fondly on yesterday.

My best friend and I went to the 11:20 AM showing of "The Peanuts Movie" (AKA, "The Vicissitudes of a Blockhead") at a theater in Frederick, Maryland.  This necessitated a drive of just under an hour.  Was this the nearest movie house?  No.  Were we willing to brave Rockville?  No.  The idea of seeing the big screen return of Chuck B. and the gang after 35 years away in the city that I once called home, the city that I miss to the point of aches and agonies, was simultaneously too much and just what I needed.

I'd visited the Westview Promenade on Buckeystown Pike a few times during my stint as a Fredericker, but never stepped inside the Regal Cinemas there.  There was some overpriced theater food, some cool, classic upright entertainment, and a smattering of other folks, most probably there to see "Spectre."

Trick and I were the first people in Theater 10.  (By the time the 20th Century Fox fanfare sounded, we would be joined by four other bodies, all tall enough to ride the rides at any amusement park.) We sat in the upper-middle section, loose-limbed and expectant, Charlie Brown and Snoopy hoodie snug on my torso.

The previews were a mixed bag.  "Norm of the North" looks hideous.  A POLAR BEAR IN THE BIG CITY, Y'ALL!  Also, someone allowed another Chipmunks movie to happen.  Jason Lee, what the hell happened to your life?    Your face is the sad crag of compromise.  Both trailers featured overplayed songs:  "Back in Black" for "Norm," and "Baby Got Back" for Chipmunks.  The mental mashup I made of the former's music with the latter's lyrics was and is, I promise you, funnier than whatever the funniest moment turns out to be in either of those flicks.

"The Good Dinosaur" looks, at the very least, mesmerizing.  It didn't make me want to fashion the drawstrings of my hoodie into a noose, so that's something.

My demands for "The Peanuts Movie" were simple.  Be true, be funny.  (I try not to demand more than two things per item/experience.  For onion rings, I ask only--be large, be crunchy.  For flights--be safe, be infant-free.  And so on.)  These demands were met.  Any qualms about the classic characters being rendered in CG, any concerns that the first film since 1980 would kowtow to modernity, any dread that Blue Sky and the Schulz family were co-conspirators in a scheme to deface an icon...all you have to do is watch with a mind and heart both ready to feel. 

The main plot (Charlie Brown's crush on the Little Red-Haired Girl) and the subplot (Flying Ace Snoopy's crush on pilot poodle Fifi, "voiced" by noted fan Kristin Chenoweth) are both as substantial as they need to be, but most of the animated Peanuts offerings depend on so-called "filler" material:  the preternatural musings and puerile frivolities of the kids in the neighborhood.  It makes sense that what powered the comics would locomotion the screen adaptations as well, so, smartly, the creative team borrowed liberally from the source material.  Nothing uttered--or animated--struck me as out of place.  Yes, Charlie Brown takes a blue recycling bin out to the curb, but Snoopy still taps out fantastical tales of wartime on a typewriter.  Still not convinced?  Two words:  rotary phones.

The filmmakers throughout acknowledge the legacy of Peanuts while telling their story. Charlie Brown's thoughts appear in the flat figures and clean lines of the comic strips.  Peppermint Patty is so crushed out on the blockhead that she rings him up just to order him around.  Lucy is Queen Alaskan Crab.  Sally is touchingly naive and hilariously avaricious.  Snoopy is a scene-stealer par excellence.

I (repeatedly) laughed, I (almost) cried, I felt proud to be a Peanuts fan.   I can't wait to see it again.

"Lyrics For Monster Movie Music" Available Now

LYRICS FOR MONSTER MOVIE MUSIC
48 pages

 My first collection of poetry, containing pieces written between 1998-2003, is now for sale. As measureless as it is bonded, as broad as it is narrow, a long-form mind transplanted into a short-form body after a night of drinkin', dancin' and double vision.

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US & Canada $5.00 USD International $6.00 USD Option 3 $5.00 USD