Covers

I'm a sucker for a good cover tune.  To me, anyone can regurgitate a carbon copy of the original song and this is uninteresting.  What makes a good cover tune is when the new artist enhances or rearranges the original.  This is when cover tune magic happens.  Enjoy.

I Live On The Second Floor - In 1987 Suzanne Vega released what would become the most famous song about a victim of child abuse.  And while I applaud her courage and willingness to take on this uncomfortable subject matter, the song itself was unbearable and it was everywhere!  You couldn't escape it.  Radio, MTV, it was viral before there was such a word.  Suddenly Suzanne Vega and her creation, "Luka" were household names.  The original song was pure 80's cheese, with impressive overproduction and bad synthesizers.  Vega's delivery in the song is almost robotic at times and devoid of the emotion the subject matter deserves.  In 1989, The Lemonheads turned "Luka" on its ear.  They sped up the tempo, added heavy, dirty guitar, Evan Dando's distinctive voice, and gave it the edginess the song deserves.


2 For 1 - The first time I heard this cover I was blown away.  It's 2 covers in one and it's so beautifully done and seamless that it feels like the 2 songs were always meant to go together as one.  Bill Janovitz is the lead singer for the under appreciated band Buffalo Tom.  He takes a Blondie staple, slows the tempo to a ballad and tacks on one of The Rolling Stones more underrated and unknown songs.  The result is a transition from the hope and optimism of Blondie's "Dreaming" to the uncertainty and dysfunction found in "Till The Next Time We Say Goodbye".  It's quite simply, a cover tune masterpiece.


No Yodeling Please - Yes that's right, in the chorus of the original version of this song, there is, what I can only describe as a yodeling type of singing.  Bob Dylan certainly isn't going to be any one's voice coach, but usually the quality of his lyrics makes up for his short comings as a pure singer.  I really love this song lyrically, but I just can't take the yodeling.  Enter fellow Minnesotan Paul Westerberg to rescue this song and make an incredible cover tune.  He slows the tempo, loses the harmonica and gives Dylan's amazing lyrics a depth and breadth that is missing from the original.  This is one of those rare songs that gives me goosebumps and brings a tear to my eye.  It's a perfect description of the nakedness, emotion and vulnerability one feels when they are truly in love with another person.  Westerberg nails it. 

The Straight Man's Guide To Dancing

My in-laws bought my wife and myself tickets to the traveling show of "So You Think You Can Dance?"  I witnessed this pop culture phenomenon on Tuesday evening.  My man card is still valid...barely.   

I've got to say, I don't watch the show and I didn't know these dancers from Adam.  They were fantastic.

And not a straight man in the cast.  Well maybe one or two, but it was definitely ambiguous.  I even learned a new term, "Krumping".  I'm still not sure what Krumping is, but it looks really fucking hard.  I think the Krumpers might have been the only straight men. 

The point being, is that it got me to thinking about dancing and male, machismo.  Krumpers aside, there was a lot of prancing around and fluttering about.  Why is it us blue blooded men have an aversion to dance?  Indeed we are downright intimidated by it.  It is, after all, arguably the oldest form of human, artistic expression.  I recall as a younger man, my palms sweating and the sleepless nights when I was invited to a wedding and the subsequent wedding reception.  I could Funky Chicken with the best of them, but what was I going to do when "Brick House" came roaring over the speakers?  When I eventually married a dancing woman, the horror of past dancing humiliation flashed before me.  Was I relegated to a secret life of dance loathing while pretending to love it in my wife's presence?  I needed to develop a strategy.

I've always maintained that there are only 2 reasons for a man to dance.

1. You're gay
2. You're not gay but you're trying to hook up with a woman

Apparently there is a 3rd reason.  Your wife loves to dance and if you don't get your sorry ass dancing, you will disappoint wife and wife will inevitably be hit on, especially by Krumpers.

So to my macho brethren, here are some tactics I suggest you employ when you find yourself faced with a dancing situation that is unavoidable.

Camouflage - Simmer down, Fred Astaire.  No solo dance for you, even if your Ginger Rogers insists on you being the first ones to the floor.  Go to the bathroom, fake an injury, call in a bomb threat.  Whatever it takes to make sure that there are other people, preferably many, many other people on the floor to hide your lack of rhythm.

Song Selection - You need a song with a solid beat.  This is no time for interpretive dance to an acoustic ballad or avante garde jazz number.  Leave that to the professionals.  If partner insists, see above.  Again don't accentuate your inadequacies.  Drums are a straight man's best friend.  They are like a giant neon sign for the beat.

Weeding The Herd - This is a tactic used by predators when they isolate the weakest member of a herd, but it is just as effective in dancing.  Find the worst dancer you can and stick near them like stink on a monkey.  Their dance misfortune is your gain.  You will look like Bob Fosse by comparison.  My apologies to choreographiles, it's the only choreographer I've ever heard of.  Don't send me your all-time greatest choreographer lists.  I don't care.

Stick With What You Know - This is no time to go experimental.  If the shuffle, shuffle, dip your knees is your strength, stick with it.  If you're more of a toe bouncer, great.  If pelvic thrust is more your cup of tea, thrust away.  Maybe try a couple of combinations but don't get too fancy.  Remember you do not want to call attention to yourself.  And always remember, use your arms.  There's no greater giveaway of an uptight dancer than the frozen arms and shoulders.

Alcohol - You're going to need a shit load of alcohol to make it through.  Beer, wine, vodka/tonic, rum & coke, whiskey/soda, moonshine...it matters not.  Alcohol is your friend.  In fact, next to a heavy, drum beat, it's your best friend when it comes to straight man dancing.

I came across this dude on youtube.  He may be the exception to the rule, although I need to hear him talk to make sure he is not in fact gay.  Take a good look.  You'll never be able to do this, but we can all dream.       





On second thought, maybe we have a shot.  I'll be practicing my moves if you need me.

Halloween

Halloween, the age old holiday born from the ancient traditions of celebrating the fall harvest, dead ancestors and spiritual allegory to the coming of winter and death.

or

Halloween, the noveau Americanized holiday celebrating.....well....candy? 

Somewhere in the last century in America, Halloween has lost its way.  Sure there are still remnants of this ancient celebration.  People dress up as ghosts, ghouls and goblins as they did in centuries past when it was thought that the time around the 1st of November was when the spirits of the dead were especially active.  The pumpkin is still a symbol of the fall harvest.  People still bob for apples which probably evolved from the Roman celebration of Pomona the goddess of fruits and trees.  The Catholics eventually entered the picture and as they always did they combined a Catholic holiday with a pagan celebration to make it, less pagan and acceptable.  The founders and perpetuators of Catholicism were no dummies.  Why butt your head against the cathedral wall.  Let the pagans have their holiday and call it something else.  So All Saints Day was born also known as All Hallows on November 1st.  The day preceding this, October 31 was the traditional fall festival for the "barbarians" of northern Europe and thus became known as All Hallows Eve, eventually condensed to Halloween.

"That's great", you say.  "Thanks for the history lesson."  You're welcome.  I personally find it fascinating how things humanly evolve.  But I digress.

I was speaking of the modern Halloween.  The candy companies' "Golden Chocolate Calf"  as it were.  Don't get me wrong, nobody stuffs as many Snickers bars down their gullets as I.  But candy aside, my favorite part of Halloween is the costumes and no offense to the kiddies, the adult costumes are far more interesting.  Not only do I love the costumes, it's the associated behavior that the costumes promote that I love. 

Idiot License

What other day of the year is it perfectly socially acceptable to dress and act like a complete jackass?  Add alcohol into the mix and it's a recipe for awesomeness.

Release Your Inner Slut

This is by far my favorite part of the modern Halloween phenomenon.  I'm sure having women dress up as slutty nurses, witches, pirates, policewomen, devils, vampires and the like is not exactly what Church leaders and Druid priests had in mind but I say thank God for modern progress.  Keep the costumes coming ladies.(My wife has informed that this sentence makes me sound like a pig and my response is that I’m not the one dressed up as a hooker with their tits hanging out.  Touché Wife!)  I can't tell you how many times on Halloween I've come across a formerly and seemingly demure female friend, neighbor, colleague or acquaintance dressed as something that seemed more at home on the cover of an adult video.  And if the costume wearer happens to lean a little toward the freak-flying-flag type, look the hell out and for heaven's sake, make sure your camera battery is full.

So here's to Halloween and if you happen to be roaming the streets of Denver on Saturday night, look for me flaunting my Idiot License with gusto.  I'll be the guy in the Rex Kwan Do outfit.  See below, I'm also a sucker for an esoteric, lightly referenced character.  And no I'm not Captain America, as I was repeatedly called last time I wore this costume.  "BOW TO YOU SENSEI!"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hh10UVpfpy0

Why A Blog

Why a Blog?

First order of business is a legal disclaimer.  The name of my blog has been lifted from a lyric of a certain song.  The songwriter of this particular song has been known to show extreme dissatisfaction with those who lift from him without giving him credit.  It is from a brilliant little diddy that goes something like this...."With a leap of faith, or a jump of stupid.  Either way, don't know what I'm doing."  No one can turn a phrase like Paul Westerberg.  It comes from a song called "Footsteps".  Paul Westerberg is an amazing songwriter and someone that has cast a large shadow upon my life.  He is simply put, a poet.  I'm sure Mr. Westerberg will come up often in this blog.  Thank you Paul, and full credit to you my friend.





For years I have been told by family members and friends, "You should write a blog." or "Why don't you write a blog?"  My knee-jerk reaction to the latter, which I keep under my breath is, "Because I'm not a narcissistic douchebag".  But more diplomatically, I simply smile and say, "Maybe I will someday".

Someday has become today.

I finished a novel approximately six months ago.  As I have worked to get it published, I have discovered some interesting truths about the publishing industry.  One is that a writer inevitably needs a literary agent.  The odds of your work getting a publisher's attention are slim to none without said literary agent and indeed, most will not even consider your work unless it is presented by a literary agent.  Two is that these literary agents seem to fall all over themselves if you have won some sort of contest, award or author a popular blog.

So it is clear and shameless self promotion on my part.  In the fantasy version of my life, this blog will be so good that it will develop a massive, cult following and the literary world will come break down my door to get a version of "The Great American Novel", which I, no doubt have penned.

Also, it's good therapy.  There's nothing like a good rant to cleanse the soul.  Happy reading and thank you for taking the jump of stupid with me. 

Ray 

Ps…. If you happen to be a literary agent or know a literary agent, contact me immediately.  My novel is eager and awaiting the right agent to nurture and sell it.