“She drives me crazy…like long blonde hair…” Everywhere I went in early 1989, that’s all I heard, except when I wondered if it went, “like long white hair.” It was OK, until the song got so pervasive that it annoyed me. When their next hit came out, I fell into my typically contrarian mode, thinking it was better because its style fit in with the old soul records I was then interested in. Today I admit that “She Drives Me Crazy” is a fine piece of pop product – hook-filled, unique in sound, lean, clean, direct, easily memorable. At the time I was retreating into purism for various reasons of performance – this song writing didn’t have enough meat on its bones to ever be played at open mic – but at least it’s not as derivative as their following hit. I’ll give this and the follow-up hit a 6 and a 5 respectively, knowing full well that many of you will rank it far higher. And I say my lyric is better – I may be square, but I imagine the girl Steele is singing to with the light hair, and I’m all for it.

Early 1989 caught me in a perilous time, my SU course work behind me, my friends and fellow media soldiers (including tleo) long gone, my job search failing for lack of preparation and lack of attack, my work at the local cable company unsatisfying. Youth requires irrepressible energy, the kind that propels you forward into the next adventure to the lessons and growth you can’t expect. I suck at youth, always did. I was so busy figuring out big issues and feeling the waves of life around me early on that I didn’t trust the stuff that kick-started my motor. I was a prodigy at patience, and Ambrose Bierce was right, it ain’t no gift. Soon I waited myself right out of that career path into my adult life. Which, to be honest, has been full of joy and experience in my own way, at my own pace.

Greetings, TNOCS. The last several months have asked a lot of my attention. My work went from the doldrums of the pandemic, to a shrinking workplace, to a sudden unexpected increase in business, to a change in ownership, to the loss of a General Manager along with some other workers. We’ve all had to do more. Most fortunately for all of us, the new ownership is a class act, doing all they can to improve the place. I feel more productive than ever, but the oddball hours combined with household requirements and my erratic sleep means I have had no time for this wonderful hole in the wall.

I started posting here in late 2018 as the chronology entered 1970, when AM radio became my eight year-old world. My mother’s ALS was progressing, and I found myself doing ever-increasing analytic work – fixing bills, responding to guest complaints. It was a pleasure remembering what turned me on when I was a maturing boy, and telling Tom that the 5 he gave “It’s Too Late” was only half the grade he should have given it was empowering. All art is politics, and writing here was a way to try to nudge conversations in right direction. Mom’s health deteriorated and the work ramped up its frustrating emphasis on reports – I began to call my work “magazine publishing,” and TNOCS was my respite.

And then there’s all of you. When I wrote my piece about “It’s Too Late,” Stobgopper wrote that I needed an editor. Little did he know the great stories that have been told here, and the personalities that have bloomed. I’ll confess – even a year ago it became too much for me to appreciate all the threads. This is what I’ve missed most the last half year or so – I’m especially irked that I haven’t had a chance to use Link’s posts of past hits to correct Tom ratings. (Really, “Eternal Flame” gets a 10 and “It’s Too Late” a 5? Don’t make me look at your Roy Orbison ratings, and don’t get me started on “Backstabbers.”)

But to tell the truth, I have very little to say about this era’s hits. I was very happy to see Tom’s praise of “Eternal Flame.” Tleo and I debated its merits back in the day, with t saying it didn’t deserve its cathartic ending. I’ll add that the guitar solo is perfectly tasteful and elegant, much like George Harrison’s lead on “And I Love Her.” Good on you, Tom, for mentioning the questioning lyrics – they remind me of ABBA’s similarly vulnerable “The Name of the Game” (“Would you laugh at me if I said I cared for you?”). Thank you, also, for giving “Be With You” an 8, with Debbi Peterson’s warm, sexy voice. The unfortunate truth of the Bangles is that the songwriter with the toughest material, Vicki Peterson, didn’t have a voice to match.

It feels good to have a bit of time to luxuriate in writing. Monday was the first time in months where I’ve been able to mentally block out the rest of the world and focus on one task (my one creative outlet, playing guitar, has been relegated to 20 minute snatches before work). I used Monday to put together a couple of documents to help families of ALS sufferers to claim cash benefits from their long-term-care insurance. I was wracked with guilt for not doing that sooner – I know how hard the process is. But this is almost as important to me. This column and the comments section helped guide me through a treacherous time. I know I’m not the only one.

Thank you all for being there. I’ll be back.

The soundtrack to my spring and summer of 1989, The Raw & the Cooked and this song in particular have never left me, they never fail to make me smile and sing along. The song is instantly recognizable, hooking you in with the unique snare hit/ bass pattern. The rhythmic guitar and crunchy power chords add a funky element to the track. The bleeping synths add a nice color to the song. Some people may dislike Gifts’ falsetto, but it’s absolutely perfect for this song. He always struck me as a throwback to the heydays of Mowtown. This is one of my very favorite number ones of the 80’s, top 10 for sure. A straight up 10.

Also, as a bonus, i’m adding the slow version of Wave of Mutilation cuz it RULES. It was included as a B-side to the “Here comes your Man” single.
“Into the White” was also included in the single and it also rules.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BC061qfj_o

What we talk about when we talk about music (all of us)

To whoever gave “Superstition” a 2, I defend your right to do so and support whatever opinion you have, but for goodness’ sake, why?

In my younger years, I developed a pattern of A) fall for a girl that I believed I had no shot with, B) become friends with her, C) all the while secretely pine for her. There were variations on the theme, but they all tended to end in the same painful result. Sometimes, I did eventually work up the courage to share my true feelings, only to find out that while they valued the friendship, they desired nothing more. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Then, fresh out of college, I fell for a girl, became friends with her, secretly pined for her, only to find out that she also had feelings for me. I was both elated and terrified. Now what? This should have knocked me out of the Ground Hog Day-esque cycle, but it didn’t. I declared to her that I didn’t believe we were meant to date at that time in our lives and slapped us both back into the friend zone.

But my feelings for her only intensified. Around this time, Eternal Flame was ascending to the top of the charts, and I was captivated by its sweet sentiment. It was even playing once when I was with her at a bank, as if it were showing me what we could have together.

But I didn’t heed its call. I would instead send mixed signals that I wanted to be with her but at the same time push her away by continuing to insist that it was God’s will that we not date at that juncture of our lives. Then I would find a way to blame her for the distance this would cause, blind to the fact that it was nothing more than my own fear that was keeping us apart.

Likely tired of the mind games, she eventually did gradually pull away from me, until we were barely speaking. I soon found out that she began seeing someone else, had fallen in love, and that I had lost her for good. Too late, I realized the damage caused to both self and others by letting fear rule the day.
It was a devastatingly painful, but oh so important lesson that never gets old or irrelevant.

In the end, for me, Eternal Flame in its simple, idyllic beauty, described a world that was within my grasp, but somehow still out of reach for me. It still invokes a certain sadness when I hear it.

And Now For Something Completely Different: Usually an indie band like The Sundays would start out slow, release a few rough, lo-fi singles, then finally develop a more polished aesthetic and achieve a modicum of popular success. But The Sundays arrived fully-formed from the get-go. They played some of their earliest gigs in the summer of 1988, they spawned a label bidding war (that eventually got them signed to Rough Trade in the UK and DGC in the US), then released their first single in early 1989, nearly making the UK Top 40. And what a glorious single “Can’t Be Sure” is: Harriet Wheeler’s crystalline voice is so distinctive, the guitar playing is gorgeous, and the lyrics are so memorable, from “England my country/the home of the free/such miserable weather/But England’s as happy as England can be” to “Did you know desire’s a terrible thing/But I rely on mine.”
https://youtu.be/yARVs1ZNLjU

if you look close enough you’ll realise they actually like to talk about themselves

“It would be weird for anyone to put the full text of any song’s lyrics on a single cover.”
People had been doing it on hit records for decades tho.
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/EswS8svW8AAcXGt.jpg

Meanwhile, at the soft verse loud chorus side of town . . .
The Pixies released Dolittle. Its influence will be far and wide into the upcoming waves of music. Their most dynamic album, it alternates between bursts of ear splitting noise and a pop sweeth tooth for hooks. Producer Gil Norton added a layer of polish to an already strong collection of songs. Black’s howls are the perfect match for Deal’s harmonies. The themes range from environmental disaster (Monkey gone to Heaven), biblical references (Dead, Gouge Away), surrealism and Luis Buñuel (Debaser), crazed roommates (Crackity Jones) and good fashioned ol ‘love (La La Love You). “Whore” was once planned to be used as the title, mostly in a biblical sense to continue the themes of the songs. The actual title comes from a line from the song “Mr. Grieves”: Pray for a man in the middle / One that talks like Doolittle” about the story of the dr. that could talk to animals but is also a play on the words “do little”, a way of life according to those denouncing the emerging “slacker generation”.
The album was a surprise hit in the UK, reaching all the way to #8 on the charts. It has appeared in basically all best of lists of the year and decade.
A friend of mine always said the Pixies would unite the world, with this album I believe it could’ve happened, some days i still believe it can.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tPgf_btTFlc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHC9HE7vazI

That you’re a talentless fuck? That your friends are imaginary and his are real? That you weren’t inside a car that had committed a driving violation?

I know next to nothing about soccerball. Not a sport I’ve ever followed or even learned how to understand what is happening on the field. But I have seen some of the stories/videos about players laying on the ground writhing in pain only to jump up and run full speed seconds later. The acting complaints seem pretty reasonable.

btw, Wilco sucks.

Wow… y’all soccerball people are sensitive. 😂

The average liberal white man in 2021 that makes 6 figures, watching soccer while drinking an expensive foreign beer w/ his sons Sergio and Balthazar: “The NFL is barbaric.”

BCA, also a white liberal man in 2021 but broke and a non-drinker: “Fuck soccer.”

I want my CornCobTV