tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50361798676748682612024-02-07T15:57:56.429-05:00Random Thoughts EscapingReal Men Don't Jingle When They WalkABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.comBlogger415125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-76061879653713103302013-08-07T09:30:00.000-04:002013-08-07T09:30:00.450-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 35<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ziggy Stardust”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bauhaus</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Track 35 was the final track of the original Bowling Green two-disc mix CD set. And it ended where it began: with Bauhaus. Never more popular, mainstream, or obvious than they were with their cover of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust”, this is where the boys wear their allegiances on their sleeve.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It seems obvious to the point of awkward just how much Bauhaus frontman Peter Murphy wishes he were Bowie when you listen to this track. At the time of this version’s release in 1989, Rykodisc was gearing up to churn out well-produced and thoughtful reissues of Bowie’s own catalog on compact disc for the first time. (I devoured those discs as voraciously as anything else. Chock full of rarities and outtakes, Rykodisc did a great job giving the pioneer’s early work its due.) But this BBC session version by the Goth godfathers is as career defining as “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”. There is a rawness to this version that belies its faithfulness to the original.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bauhaus were as much a part of that first year of college for me as Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, Love and Rockets, and all the others. And an absolutely appropriate way to close out that original playlist and conclude the first half of this particular exercise. It’s a natural stopping point, and I’m going to take a break from these for a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">End, Part 1</span><br />
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-58591576976390582872013-07-31T09:30:00.000-04:002013-07-31T09:30:00.260-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 34<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sin”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine Inch Nails</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretty Hate Machine</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The original two-disc compilation I made for the Bowling Green collection each carried its own subtitle. And, like Track 09 of this playlist, the subtitle for what was the second disc was taken from a Nine Inch Nails song. This time, “Sin”. And while the previous subtitle (“Just a Fading Fucking Reminder of Who I Used to Be” from <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-09.html">“Something I Can Never Have”</a>) is open to all sorts of interpretation, this one’s a bit more straightforward. After all, college (and the reminiscences of that experience) is about nothing if not “stale incense, old sweat, and lies, lies, lies.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Sin” is a song that always reminds me of John, if only because I know it’s his favorite track off <i>Pretty Hate Machine</i>. It’s a nice little nihilistic ditty about giving everything – sexually, I assume – and not having the emotional weight of the encounter reciprocated by the partner. Like much of the album, “Sin” takes life experience and runs it through the buzz saw angst of young adulthood to blistering effect.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-74578019030149761512013-07-24T09:30:00.000-04:002013-07-24T09:30:03.231-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 33<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Every Little Counts”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">New Order</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Brotherhood</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1986</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just like its three previous album covers, New Order’s fourth album featured striking Peter Saville sleeve art. This time, though, he decided to forego color-coding the album title in the cover, and instead it’s a photograph of a sheet of Titaanzink metal. It’s sterile, gray, unyielding… a lot like the perception of synthesizer-based bands in the ’80s (and certainly <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2012/04/fine-time.html">New Order’s live show reputation</a>). But the last song on the original album’s running order is anything but antiseptic.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">John turned me on to this little ditty from <i>Brotherhood</i>. It’s a fun, sarcastic, off-the-cuff song that I think Bernard Sumner might have just made up the words to on the spot. The song opens with the wonderfully mischievous “Every second counts / When I am with you / I think you are a pig / You should be in a zoo” before Sumner looses his straight face and devolves into a fit of giggles. More laughter follows later in the song when he misses a note. In the interim, he sings of the stupidity of the song’s subject, but any sort of mean-spiritedness is disarmed by the orchestral splendor of the accompaniment. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Much like <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-04.html">the Cure’s “A Few Hours After This…”</a>, “Every Little Counts” combines a musically symphonic idea of strings and mixes it with a playful sense of humor in the lyrics and delivery. It’s at once completely incongruous and perfectly matched, right down to the Beatles-esque finale and record scratch ending.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-22425165925634299852013-07-17T09:30:00.000-04:002013-07-17T09:30:00.884-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 32<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Fish”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throwing Muses</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lonely Is an Eyesore</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1987</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I picked up <i>Lonely Is an Eyesore</i> in the import case at Digital Daze before I ever started working there. I listened to Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins and This Mortal Coil prior to this album, but here is where I connected the dots identifying the ethereal, atmospheric sound typical of the 4AD label. Of course, this compilation does its damnedest to disassociate itself from that description by also including Colourbox’s “Hot Doggie”, Clan of Xymox’s “Muscoviet Mosquito”, and Throwing Muses’ “Fish”.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While “Muscoviet Mosquito” is the track I remember hearing played at Thursday’s, the military drums and surreal lyrics of “Fish” are intertwined with both my Akron punk friends and Bowling Green. Back at the CD store, I put this album into rotation as much as any other of the era when it was my turn to pick what we listened to. And, we would sit in my friend Nancy’s basement bedroom and listen to this album alongside Christian Death’ <i>The Scriptures</i> and Siouxsie and the Banshees’ <i>Kaleidoscope</i> and <i>Juju</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once I got to Bowling Green, Throwing Muses became an integral association with Jennifer for me. She played “No Parachutes” off of that same year’s <i>Hunkpapa</i> LP, and the ridiculous obviousness of that song’s opening line (“Pushing a ribcage / Makes it hard to breathe”) quickly seared itself into our lexicon. As far as the band’s <i>Lonely Is an Eyesore</i> cut goes, it sort of became our group of friends’ unintentional theme song. There were three items on our mini-fridge that freshman year (The Year of the Fish?) that tied directly and not-so-subtly to fish….</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First, there was a blue crayon rubbing John did of the word “FISH” from a headstone in Oak Grove Cemetery on campus. The cemetery itself was over a hundred years old by the time we arrived. It had a low stone wall along Ridge Street, just west of the Student Rec Center (where I had racquetball class), Moore Musical Arts Center (where I took multiple classes and first met Maria), and the Student Health Services building (where I had to go once freshmen year when I got crazy sick). Oak Grove was a wonderful place to go and wander. I spent plenty of days among the peaceful quiet of the headstones, both alone and with various members of our circle of friends.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next was a yellow and blue and red handmade construction paper fish by our friend Erin. Last was a handwritten and illustrated fish-related joke from me: “Q: How many surrealist artists does it take to change a light bulb? A: The fish!” I don’t remember where I originally heard the joke (my apologies if you’re reading this and you’re the one who told me it), but it lived on for years in our world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Throwing Muses lyricist and lead singer Kristin Hersh is just this side of crazy (she’s been very public about her bipolar disorder struggles), and because of that I’ve always given her a pass for her songwriting eclecticism. Much like that opening line from “No Parachutes”, the opening whimsy of “Fish” is one that has always stuck with me, an absurdist statement I have rolled out on numerous occasions (“I have a fish nailed to a cross on my apartment wall / It sings to me with glassy eyes and quotes from Kafka”). And the compilation album’s title is from this track: “Lonely is as lonely does / Lonely is an eyesore / The feeling describes itself.” A wonderfully twisted sentiment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Quasi-related side note: Years after college, an installment of <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/search/label/Adam%20and%20Jeff%E2%80%99s%20%E2%80%9980s%20Alternative%20Rewind%20Adventure">Adam and Jeff’s ’80s Alternative Rewind</a> took place when he, his wife, and I saw Bob Mould at the Grog Shop in November 2005. Hersh opened for him with a solo acoustic set. It was a train wreck. We weren’t there to see Hersh, and unfortunately the vibe from her performance carried over for us and Mould’s set ended up being a bit of a disappointment, too.)</span><br />
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-87491971992454482772013-07-10T09:30:00.000-04:002013-07-10T09:30:03.670-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 31<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Stigmata”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ministry</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Land of Rape and Honey</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1988</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While home for the holiday break between the fall and spring semesters, I saw two shows, both at the Phantasy Theater. The first was Nine Inch Nails on the Pretty Hate Machine Promo Tour a few days before New Year’s Eve. The second was Ministry on the Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste Tour on January 5, 1990. What I remember about the show is somewhat spotty, but here’s what I’ve got: KMFDM opened for them. A huge chain-link fence went up between the performers and the pit before Ministry took the stage that the band climbed on. There was a stocky guy dressed in black with a GIANT wooden rosary around his neck. In my memory, the cross was something like six-inches tall and the rosary “beads” were nearly ping-pong ball sized. It was practically a weapon. I attended the show with Jen and Nancy and my coworkers from Digital Daze.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jen (not to be confused with “college friend Jen” from Columbus) was a small, Italian catholic spitfire. My parents’ house (where they still live) is on the county line, so I attended one school, and my next-door neighbors were in a different public school district. Turned out Jen grew up and lived around the corner from my house, but in that other school district. We soon realized Jen knew my next-door neighbors, my godparents and their kids, and other acquaintances outside of the punk scene. Jen is also the person who introduced me to Pam.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jen and Nancy and Pam were all friends from high school. I met Jen when I started working at the Warehouse Club, and she got Pam a job there in late 1988. The four of us ran with a motley bunch from work, hanging out, getting into things we most certainly shouldn’t have been. After Pam moved, Jen and Nancy were whom I went to the bars and shows with regularly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the Ministry show, Jen and I were down in the pit, and at one point I was standing behind Jen when her head snapped back and she reeled into me. I pulled her out of the pit and back to where our group was standing at the back of the theater. Jen’s mouth was bleeding from where she’d been cut from getting hit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This show was also where I picked up the Ministry sticker that I put on the back of my black leather biker jacket. The sticker had the band’s name in thick, dark gold lettering with the skull x-ray image from <i>The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste</i> album cover.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are songs I like just as much as “Stigmata” off of <i>The Land of Rape and Honey</i> – the title track, “You Know What You Are”, and “I Prefer” all spring immediately to mind, and <i>The Mind Is a Terrible Thing to Taste</i> is a stronger album overall – but “Stigmata” was the one that put them on the industrial-metal map. It was played in every alternative club and guaranteed to fill the dance floor with its aggro drums and primal screams. The video was a staple on MTV’s early morning two-hour alternative program, and even earned a spot on the initial two-volume <i>Never Mind the Mainstream… The Best of MTV’s 120 Minutes</i> CD compilation celebrating that show. Like all of Ministry’s post-synthpop music, “Stigmata” is one of those songs that stir something in me even to this day.</span><br />
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-4075812553154216342013-07-03T09:30:00.000-04:002013-07-03T09:30:00.699-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 30<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Party of the First Part”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bauhaus</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I worked at the now long-gone Digital Daze CD store in Akron, I rarely took home an actual paycheck. I was always one for being compensated in the form of shiny little discs enfolded in cardboard <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longbox" target="_blank">longboxes</a> or rare gems from the import case. Among my “take-home pay” over the years I worked there were the 1988 Beggars Banquet UK catalog issues of Bauhaus’ <i>Mask</i>, <i>Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape</i>, <i>The Sky’s Gone Out</i>, and <i>Burning from the Inside</i> with the “ripped” CD insert motif and full of extras.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Buried among those bonus tracks on the <i>The Sky’s Gone Out</i> was “Party of the First Part”. This quirky little bass-drum-keyboard workout consists of dialog sampled from the 1978 Canadian Halloween animated special, <i>The Devil and Daniel Mouse</i> by Nelvana Ltd. It’s like watching the show while the bad practices. The only non-sampled dialog is, I assume, a band member commenting that “the interview circus is so absurd, and so silly” near the two-minute mark. The song itself is nearly five-and-a-half minutes long, but the sampled dialog is finished before the three-minute mark, leaving two-and-a-half minutes of groove to carry the song out.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The song received proper US distribution a year later, with the release of <i>Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions</i>. As much as I listened to the original albums on the UK releases, it was <i>Swing the Heartache</i> that got the most airplay on my stereo because of the rawness of the Peel Session tracks and nice sampling of the band’s overall catalog. This is where “Party of the First Part” really became ingrained in my musical lexicon. It’s one of those eccentric numbers that helped endear Bauhaus to me. Like so many other pop culture artifacts, I know every word, every well-timed pause and vocal inflection of the dialog from the song. And, given how often I played <i>The Sky’s Gone Out</i> and <i>Swing the Heartache</i> in the dorm room freshman year, I would bet John could recite it, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are a couple of tangential pop culture items of note regarding <i>The Devil and Daniel Mouse</i> source animation:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First, it was the basis for Nelvana’s 1983 animated full-length film <i>Rock & Rule</i>, featuring music by Debbie Harry, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, Cheap Trick, and Earth Wind & Fire. Aired incessantly on HBO in the early and mid-’80s, it held a place alongside <i><a href="http://www.collectedcomicslibrary.com/6-collected-editions-worthy-of-your-attention-4/" target="_blank">Heavy Metal</a></i> among our regular late night viewing. The voice of <i>The Devil and Daniel Mouse</i>’s B.L. Zebub, Chris Wiggins, could also be found on <i>Rock & Rule</i>, among dozens of other classic ’80s animated shows, including <i>The Care Bears</i>, <i>ALF: The Animated Series</i>, <i>Star Wars: Ewoks</i> and <i>Star Wars: Droids</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Second, Nelvana is responsible for arguably the only redeeming value of the mythically bad (and, yes, I remember watching it when it originally aired in November 1978) <i><a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/magazine/2008/12/star_wars_special200812" target="_blank">Star Wars Holiday Special</a></i>. Apparently, George Lucas was a fan of the studio’s work and tapped them to create the 10-minute animated short that introduces the character of Boba Fett nearly two years before his feature film debut in <i>The Empire Strikes Back</i>.</span><br />
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ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-804401951214286612013-06-26T09:30:00.000-04:002013-06-26T09:30:00.120-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 29<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“**** (Jungle Law)”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love and Rockets</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love and Rockets</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Appropriating the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Signifying_monkey" target="_blank">Signifyin’ Monkey</a> found in African folklore, Love and Rockets apply the trickster persona to a writer “spreading ugly lies like it’s some horrible disease” in “**** (Jungle Law)”. Assuming bad blood between the band and the press adds an extra layer of subtext as the song’s protagonist confronts the “signifying hack,” knocking him around a bit before letting him “go back to the trees” and to his typewriter. But when “the mother” eventually falls to his death, he notes that “there’s a new one in the obituary, and it shows four stars where the name oughta be!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Musically, <i>Love and Rockets</i> is a 180-degree departure from the folk leanings of their previous album, <i>Earth * Sun * Moon</i>. Peppered with driving, feedback-laden tracks, the album feels considerably harder than anything they produced earlier in the decade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The album was released just before graduation. It’s one of those CDs that I can tell you exactly where and when I bought it: <a href="http://www.thunderpussy.com/Home" target="_blank">Magnolia Thunderpussy</a>. Pam and I drove the two hours south to Columbus after prom. We wandered around the Continent and actually ran into John and Julie at the <a href="http://www.columbusmuseum.org/" target="_blank">Columbus Museum of Art</a>. (I still have the little card with a black and white image of John Singer Sargent’s <a href="http://www.columbusmuseum.org/blog/collection/carmela-bertagna/" target="_blank">Carmela Bertagna</a> on the front and information about the painting on the back that I picked up at the museum that day filed away somewhere with my senior prom mementos.) We also hit the record stores around the Ohio State University campus, and I bought <i>Love and Rockets</i> that afternoon at Magnolia Thunderpussy. I’m certain it was from Thunderpussy and not <a href="http://www.singingdogrecords.com/" target="_blank">Singing Dog</a> because for the longest time I actually had the receipt tucked into the CD booklet. In fact, it was probably still in there when I replaced it a decade ago with the two-disc expanded edition. (Replaced again with the new <i><a href="http://instagram.com/p/ZoRlZmqums/">5 Albums</a></i> UK set just released earlier this year.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Bad Monkey”, a radical reworking of “**** (Jungle Law)” saw the light of day first on the “Glittering Darkness” EP in 1996, and later as a part of the <i>Swing!</i> project finally released on disc two of the <i>Love and Rockets</i> reissue. It’s fairly unremarkable, meandering even, interesting only as an artifact of just how pissed off the trio really was over whoever they were feuding with in the press.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Back in the day, oversized subway posters of alternative bands were all the rage. I had a Love and Rockets one for the song “Motorcycle” off this album mounted on the ceiling of my bedroom at my parents’ house, but I am not sure if it made it to the dorm room at Bowling Green. The weird thing is that I honestly can’t remember where I got the poster. I might have had to special order it from the CD store I worked at, but I can’t be certain. I also had a smaller Love and Rockets poster of the band that might have been Pam’s. That one did make it up to BG and hung over my dorm room desk freshman year.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-20221678373437804092013-06-19T09:30:00.000-04:002013-06-19T09:30:02.147-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 28<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“That’s What I Get”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine Inch Nails</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretty Hate Machine</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once again, it’s all about the flow within the playlist here. “Batdance” somehow fits perfectly against the synthesized steel drum percussion opening Nine Inch Nails’ “That’s What I Get”. It’s a song that is musically stark, devoid of softness. The only real emotion is conveyed by Trent Reznor’s vocals. Interestingly, though, the beats of <i>Pretty Hate Machine</i>’s leadoff single, “Down In It”, suddenly appear in the latter half of this song.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thematically, “That’s What I Get” is all about the nihilistic place I found myself in between Pam leaving and my further self-exploration at Bowling Green in 1989. It’s as if every word of this song was ripped from my heart as I tried to navigate my victimized feelings over Pam’s departure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just when everything was making sense</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You took away all my self-confidence</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now all that I’ve been hearing must be true</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess I’m not the only boy for you</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s what I get</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How could you turn us into this</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After you just taught me how to kiss you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I told you I’d never say goodbye</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I’m slipping on the tears you made me cry</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s what I get</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why does it come as a surprise</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To think that I was so naïve</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe didn’t mean so much</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it meant everything to me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The song’s sentiment is echoed in hundreds of different variations throughout my writings of the era. Portrait of a Tortured Punk Poet as he attempts to find his way through both his feelings and the larger world, dressed in black, smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, and approaching his freshman college responsibilities more as “guidelines” as opposed to requirements.</span><br />
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-60042693285509773082013-06-12T09:30:00.000-04:002013-06-12T09:34:22.332-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 27<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Batdance”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Prince</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Batman (Original Soundtrack)</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCubPIj9I1_eGZkbpcZEf8q1ZgltdG1dD2fX3HcGylLWb1KEx1JMKuAbgZUNhrv3_e3KP9oYRi4o6r1zNIU48-XCcz5I52BYxzHz4tiXKbCCeiyyw5UWwbxaVkxQZRKHwzrvu41NnHopNJ/s1600/batman-ost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCubPIj9I1_eGZkbpcZEf8q1ZgltdG1dD2fX3HcGylLWb1KEx1JMKuAbgZUNhrv3_e3KP9oYRi4o6r1zNIU48-XCcz5I52BYxzHz4tiXKbCCeiyyw5UWwbxaVkxQZRKHwzrvu41NnHopNJ/s200/batman-ost.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alright, this one might be hard to justify on an alternative soundtrack to the late ’80s, but hear me out…</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ten albums, including three soundtracks, one of the most infamous bootlegs of all-time, and a stunning complement of B-sides. Prince’s work from 1980 to 1989 is an untouchable musical evolution that spans R&B, funk, dance, new wave, pop, and rock. From guitar-soaked sex to lilting spirituality, Prince mastered the decade artistically and commercially.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In truth, I could have picked virtually any track from any Prince album from the ’80s, and it would have been appropriate here with regards to personal influence. <i>Under the Cherry Moon</i> was a foundational movie for Pam’s and my relationship, giving <i>Parade</i> an edge. John and Jen can tell you how I used to camp it up in the dorm room to <i>Controversy</i>’s “Jack U Off” when we were just hanging out. But the Prince track that probably most deserves to be on this playlist (but isn’t) is “Bob George”. Pam gave me my first copy of <i><a href="http://www.allmusic.com/album/the-black-album-mw0000194312" target="_blank">The Black Album</a></i> on cassette tape in early 1989. Within a year I was laying down $50 for the bootleg CD at <a href="http://johnbooth.wordpress.com/2010/02/08/its-a-mad-mad-madhatter-world/" target="_blank">Madhatter Music Company</a> in Bowling Green. For whatever reason, it was onto “Bob George” from that album that I transferred all my fury over Pam’s move to San Francisco to be with her ex-boyfriend earlier that summer. The distorted vocals, the self-deprecating references, the overt violence… it’s a track that completely encapsulates “dirty” Prince.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the sake of playlist flow, however, I went with the <i>Batman</i> single, “Batdance”. Part of a campaign that changed the way blockbuster movies are marketed in the same way <i>Jaws</i> defined the summer tent pole nearly 15 years earlier, goth auteur Tim Burton’s <i>Batman</i> was ubiquitous in the summer of 1989. The movie worked for both the alternative culture denizens who worshipped at Burton’s quirky <i>Pee Wee’s Big Adventure</i>/<i>Beetlejuice</i> alter, and the hegemonic mainstream.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The collection of songs Prince offered up as accompaniment to the movie range from excellent funk workouts (“Electric Chair”) to downright silly (“The Arms of Orion”), and marked the beginning of the end for any level of consistent quality output from the artist. “Batdance” is a sample-heavy track (fitting in nicely next to <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-end-of-eighties-track-26.html">Front 242’s “Welcome to Paradise V1.0”</a>) that cleverly intertwines the words of Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson, and Kim Basinger into the song. The omnipresent nature of both the movie and this song in 1989 resulted in snippets of the movie’s dialog permanently etched on the brains of virtually anyone consuming pop culture that summer – John and me included.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So maybe “Batdance” doesn’t fit perfectly under the “alternative” umbrella, but within the flow of the playlist and as a signpost for the end of the eighties, I’d be hard-pressed to find a more fitting inclusion.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-35357258217748132902013-06-05T09:30:00.000-04:002013-06-05T09:30:01.157-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 26<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Welcome to Paradise V1.0”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Front 242</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Front By Front</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1988</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before I packed up all my worldly belongings and moved to Central Florida in the Summer of 1990, I threw a party. It was one of those amazingly cool events where all my worlds collided on one now-very hazy night. My parents were out of town, and I took that opportunity to throw a good-bye bash for myself. High school friends were there, co-workers from Warehouse Club showed up, and friends from Bowling Green all drove in town for the party.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m going to plead “hazy details” in order to avoid incriminating myself or anyone who was in attendance, but I remember playing DJ that night. Deep into industrial, Nine Inch Nails, Ministry, Nitzer Ebb, Severed Heads, and Front 242 were staples in my musical diet at the time. And, as much as I associate NIN’s <i>Pretty Hate Machine </i>with <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/nothing-quite-like-feel-of-something.html" target="_blank">New Year’s Eve 1989</a>, I associate Front 242’s “Welcome to Paradise V1.0” with my going away party.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The band brilliantly subverts samples of televangelist Farrell Griswold into twisted mini-treatises on sex, poverty, and religion. At the time, I just loved the shock value of the content (much in the same way NIN’s “The Only Time” and “Get Down Make Love” rocketed to the top of my Catholic Upbringing Rebellion playlist), but as an adult I see there was depth to the provocative challenges. “Welcome to Paradise V1.0” is a criminally underrated track that took what Brian Eno and David Byrne were doing with samples at the beginning of the decade on <i><a href="http://bush-of-ghosts.com/" target="_blank">My Life in the Bush of Ghosts</a></i> and exploited it to take on everything from ’80s consumerism to the hypocrisy of religion in five-plus minutes of buzz saw synths and jackhammer percussion.</span><br />
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-28393387661049428932013-05-29T09:30:00.000-04:002013-05-29T09:30:03.382-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 25<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Get Down Make Love”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine Inch Nails</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sin Maxi-Single</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s kind of shocking to me that Nine Inch Nails’ “Get Down Make Love” was nowhere to be found on either of the original playlists. It’s probably my favorite NIN song alongside “The Only Time”. The first time I heard “Get Down Make Love” was at the Phantasy Theater on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretty_Hate_Machine_Tour_Series#Pretty_Hate_Machine_Promotional_Tour" target="_blank">Pretty Hate Machine Promo Tour</a> at the end of the decade. I attended the show with coworkers from the CD store I worked at, and when my boss (a classic and prog rock dinosaur) yelled over the din, “This is a Queen song!” my mind was completely blown.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a crazy thing to see Nine Inch Nails live in the late ’80s. Surrounded by anger and bathed in aggression, those early shows were physically demanding of both the band and the audience. The ferocity of the performance lent an unpredictable air of excitement to the proceedings. It was antagonistic. It stirred you, pulled you in. I’m not a big guy, but this is the music that could draw me into the fray. Jostled and bruised, you would emerge from the cornstarch haze of the venue and head out into the Northeast Ohio night carried on an adrenaline surge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was the first of an inspired list of Nine Inch Nails’ covers, leading directly to Pigface’s “Suck”, Adam & the Ants’ “Physical”, Joy Division’s “Dead Souls”, and beyond. Recorded or live, “Get Down Make Love” feels so much more raw than the rest of <i>Pretty Hate Machine</i>. This song is all about attitude. Opening with a sampling of the insistent sexual history interrogation from 1962’s <i><a href="http://youtu.be/iHKgfar1IuM" target="_blank">The Cabinet of Caligari</a></i> (co-starring Glynis Johns of <i>Mary Poppins</i> fame!), <a href="http://youtu.be/SX5iAEKcJx4" target="_blank">the slow menace of Queen’s original</a> is transformed into a spiraling nightmare. There is a sense that this shit was just thrown together – the raging percussion, the screaming chorus. It’s all open wounds and bloodied knuckles. And, frankly, some of the best industrial pop you’ll ever hear.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-57752852200100763932013-05-22T09:30:00.000-04:002013-05-22T09:30:00.829-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 24<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Her Way of Praying”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Jesus and Mary Chain</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Automatic</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A polarizing album, <i>Automatic</i> is The Jesus and Mary Chain one that finds the Reid brothers acting as a duo, splitting vocal duties and fleshing out their sound via drum machine and a synthesizer for bass. Embracing late ’80s bombast, the album sounds big and encompasses everything from fuzz-laced feedback to acid-fueled trips. “Her Way of Praying”, though, has always been my favorite JAMC song.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sex-as-prayer analogy of “Her Way of Praying” fell right into my religious-questioning, lust-craving late teenage wheelhouse. It’s a song (and album) I have always associated with Maria, who I dated after my relationship with Kari imploded. <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/simpsons-roasting-on-open-fire.html" target="_blank">Here’s what I’ve said about Maria previously…</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That fall
semester at BG, I took a music appreciation class of some kind (it’s a little
fuzzy at this point) in the Moore Musical Arts Center. The first day of class,
this cute girl and I chatted briefly and began a classroom friendship, but
neither pursued anything beyond that until the end of the semester rolled
around. Through small talk in class, we realized we were both from Northeast
Ohio. She went to Central Catholic and grew up right in the geographic center
of my high school social world. We decided to get together while home for the
holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
was at the peak of my punk phase at the time... my hair dyed jet black or
blue-black or maroon or purple depending on the week, eyeliner, black nail
polish and lipstick, my ears pierced a half-dozen times. She had a simple,
girl-next-door beauty. And a boyfriend. Despite my appearance and her ties, her
parents and I got along well-enough, and Maria and I spent a large part of
those weeks home together. There were many late nights getting to know each
other while we drank bottomless cups of coffee and I chain-smoked Marlboro
Lights in a booth at the Denny’s on Everhard Road, and hanging out at her
parents’ house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
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<div style="min-height: 15px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps not the healthiest of relationships, in retrospect I suppose that’s what dating and youth are all about – the mistakes are a means to an end for finding one’s identity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Automatic</i> was released just a few months before the holidays, and I was hot and heavy on it through the winter. It got plenty of airplay while home for break and well into the spring semester back at school. All of this plays into the notion that <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2011/01/when-music-matters-most.html" target="_blank">a current album by an artist while you’re deeply immersed in a genre is more important than any other album that artist will release</a>, and that is certainly the case for me and this collection of songs from 1989. While another track from this album will appear later on the playlist originating on the Thursday’s compilation, this album track will always evoke Bowling Green and those Northeast Ohio nights while home for the holidays.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-71016938132571112572013-05-15T09:30:00.000-04:002013-05-15T09:30:03.450-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 23<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Lips Like Sugar (12” Mix)”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Echo & the Bunnymen</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just Say Yes</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1987</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8yzBPh4F6jVkR9yYC_P3u8zi9w14H5MfHkw85CTHjUK6DuTd7C5DOYGdI_lWfsP7CoCmPjhknMDLJadbmBArQ4f0rM0zSwmuZlJ7_mtHGD_3gRTe0w0jbo4etBqiDqOE6fe4Gh8juZ4rb/s1600/R-398434-1249786522.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8yzBPh4F6jVkR9yYC_P3u8zi9w14H5MfHkw85CTHjUK6DuTd7C5DOYGdI_lWfsP7CoCmPjhknMDLJadbmBArQ4f0rM0zSwmuZlJ7_mtHGD_3gRTe0w0jbo4etBqiDqOE6fe4Gh8juZ4rb/s200/R-398434-1249786522.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Surprisingly, Echo & the Bunnymen’s “Lips Like Sugar” is the only Bunnymen song on the playlist, but like <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-05.html" target="_blank">Xymox’s “Blind Hearts”</a>, it was originally found on both the Thursday’s and Bowling Green mix CDs. This track definitely earned its spot on both collections, though. Echo & the Bunnymen was a staple among my Akron friends Jen and Nancy and me on those Northeast Ohio nights spent driving around, as well as out on the dance floor at Thursday’s.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As for my Bowling Green associations with the song, well, that’s a somewhat longer story…</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m pretty sure Labor Day weekend was the first time my college friend Jen took me home with her. During that period, my relationship with my parents was still pretty rocky, so instead of trying to find a ride back to Northeast Ohio or asking my parents to come pick me up, I accepted Jen’s offer to come home with her for the long weekend. She had a beat-up Datsun 210 dubbed “Bob” that she kept at school and drove us down to her mom’s house in Columbus in it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can still see the interior of her mom’s old house, and I remember Jen walking me through it and how it just sort of spiraled upwards as we made our way from the ground floor up to her attic room. We passed an ironing board in the room at the bottom of the attic stairs (that I’m fairly certain was wood paneled) that had one of those old 12x12, heavy stock record cover art posters used in record store displays. I’m not certain, but I think it was either Prince’s <i>Lovesexy</i> or a Depeche Mode album cover.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the drive from her mom’s house to the Short North for the monthly <a href="http://www.shortnorth.org/popular-links/gallery-hop" target="_blank">gallery hop</a> that end-of-summer Saturday night, we cranked Echo’s “Lips Like Sugar” and sang along at the top of our lungs. That night at the gallery hop, we met up and hung out with many of Jen’s local friends from Columbus’ alternative scene, but here’s where details get hazy… I know we ran into one particular girl Jen had gone to high school with, and, for whatever reason, Jen and I both broke into “Lips Like Sugar” after we parted ways with the friend. I think it was something goofy and (embarrassingly now) maybe slightly derogatory or mean-spirited on our part, but I’m not certain all these years later. I just know that it cracked us up for the rest of the weekend, and carried over with us back to campus when we returned to BG.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This version of “Lips Like Sugar” was originally available on the US 12” release in August of 1987, but I found it on <i>Just Say Yes: Sire’s Winter CD Music Sampler</i> released a few months later. (Sire’s music samplers produced seven volumes between 1987’s <i>Just Say Yes</i> and 1994’s <i>Just Say Roe</i>. By and large, they were treasure-troves of alternative music rarities, where you could find everything from remixes to non-album tracks.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The song itself comes from the Bunnymen’s self-titled album from the same year. Arguably, their most commercially successful album, it’s a collection of songs that captures the jangly neo-psychedelic, synthpop of the Liverpool post-punk scene that also spawned Big in Japan, The Teardrop Explodes (including extensive cross-pollination and acrimony with Julian Cope), Dalek I Love You, and Orchestral Manoeuvers in the Dark. <i>Echo & the Bunnymen</i> contains the playful “Bedbugs & Ballyhoo” and the shimmering “All My Life”. The latter – a sort of spiritual successor to The Beatles “In My Life” – was a song I played extensively that year at BG, letting it inspire me and my writing with its beauty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Taking the notion of the unattainable girl to swirling pop heights, it’s clear why “Lips Like Sugar” was the biggest hit from the album. Ian McCulloch’s vocals are melty, and when combined with Will Sergeant’s luminous guitar work the result is a near-perfect song of unrequited love.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-58318060349599999822013-05-08T09:30:00.000-04:002013-05-08T09:30:05.036-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 22<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Closedown”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Cure</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Disintegration</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsXzxLMtQEb2n4iLngs1peXqZPbL8McCmhsrHwJCEcFKESyxRRHb_8ZL2X5eMlb1ciKeRn89sO99xTD40D-YhzIdz7sGNIco7IPSsjKzdENP-bKpzoa6E7Nv5l7xmRWnvIhD-n6NLfqUd/s1600/1218049195_the-cure-disintegration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsXzxLMtQEb2n4iLngs1peXqZPbL8McCmhsrHwJCEcFKESyxRRHb_8ZL2X5eMlb1ciKeRn89sO99xTD40D-YhzIdz7sGNIco7IPSsjKzdENP-bKpzoa6E7Nv5l7xmRWnvIhD-n6NLfqUd/s200/1218049195_the-cure-disintegration.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like Siouxsie’s <i>Peepshow</i> album, the Cure’s <i>Disintegration</i> was blasted far too loudly from my dorm room that freshman year at Bowling Green. It sets a mood, to be sure, and that mood was often the morose, brooding, angsty mindset of a gothy punk poet on the verge of young adulthood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Closedown” is the album track that really gets the blood churning, and I had this to say about it <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-time-undone.html" target="_blank">in 2011</a>:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The liner notes on
the original album say “THIS MUSIC HAS BEEN MIXED TO BE PLAYED LOUD SO TURN IT
UP,” and the opening tribal drums of “Closedown” are relentless. You feel them
thrumming in your chest with urgency at any volume. The immediacy of those four
minutes of music – one of the shortest songs on the album – is underscored with
a mere 11 lines of lyrics compacted into 40 seconds of song, making every turn
of phrase, every word matter. The lyrics are well within lead singer Robert
Smith’s doom and gloom wheelhouse, but the music feels uncharacteristically
hard. While Cure songs of the era are typically dense, “Closedown” actually
seems to apply pressure, actively pushing the air out of the listener’s lungs,
suffocating them.</span></div>
</div>
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-19495906507890099132013-05-01T09:30:00.000-04:002013-05-01T09:30:05.146-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 21<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Burn-Up”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Siouxsie and the Banshees</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Peepshow</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1988</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_Oq3XiAVBm0AP2Y5J9EkDoC5biAjKhOjqFcAPs3JCI2fw_qUWvzmmteFovEuTqteVeSepMAEx4LxNowUjgLAp5J9ZkPIrhBZRe4BY21m6Eqdhqh9dkqz99Y1hN-EcamvxhbCrx43PV3V/s1600/Siouxsie+And+The+Banshees+-+Peepshow+(HQ)+-+Front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_Oq3XiAVBm0AP2Y5J9EkDoC5biAjKhOjqFcAPs3JCI2fw_qUWvzmmteFovEuTqteVeSepMAEx4LxNowUjgLAp5J9ZkPIrhBZRe4BY21m6Eqdhqh9dkqz99Y1hN-EcamvxhbCrx43PV3V/s200/Siouxsie+And+The+Banshees+-+Peepshow+(HQ)+-+Front.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Freshman year at Bowling Green, I roomed with John. It wasn’t all easy going. We tried each other’s patience and strained the limits of our friendship during that time. But our friendship ultimately survived, despite my handily kicking his ass at a year-long game of Rummy. Down the hall from us, our bear of an RA, appropriately named Mark Justice, kept watch over the floor. Mark is one of those guys who, though physically intimidating, is completely approachable and quick to put you at ease.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mark was a few years in front of me in the Creative Writing program, encouraged me to be a part of the college’s literary magazine <i><a href="http://prairiemargins.com/" target="_blank">Prairie Margins</a></i>, and was a member of the infamous BG band <a href="http://www.myspace.com/wredfright/music/songs/the-beaver-of-lovethe-escaped-fetal-pigs-67542418" target="_blank">The Escaped Fetal Pigs</a>. Mark was the guy who made his way back to the dorm with bags of plastic piggy banks that he found at the Dollar Store, excitedly rambling about how they were going to use them in the band’s stage show. Mark was the guy who, when the ATM across the street from campus ate my card, drove me downtown to the Western Union to collect the money my parents wired me. He was also the guy who would have to come down and police me for blasting my stereo far too loud.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I believe it was the last day before spring break because that is the only time I remember <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2008/05/drinking-to-be-melancholy.html" target="_blank">my dad coming to pick me up by himself</a>. Most everyone else on the floor was gone, and I had Siouxsie and the Banshees’ <i>Peepshow</i> BLASTING from the stereo. I probably had my dorm room door propped open as well. Because that was enough to bring Mark down the hall to tell me to turn down the music, I have always associated <i>Peepshow</i> – at least, in part – with him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Among the brilliant kaleidoscopic vision from hell that is <i>Peepshow</i>, the gothic hoedown of “Burn Up” has always shone a little brighter for me. The static fadeout of Nine Inch Nails’ “The Only Time” is both jarring and appropriate next to the bows-on-strings screeching of the “Burn Up” opening. The song builds with an immediacy as the listener comes to realize amid percussionist Budgie’s raging drums and vicious harmonica that “All fire and brimstone, this Jack-O-Lantern / He likes to watch the buildings burn!” Four-and-a-half minutes later, both the song and its protagonist are raging out of control around a blazing musical bonfire of nursery rhyme as Siouxsie Sioux chants about Jack jumping over the candlestick.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-27710511945767089842013-04-24T09:30:00.000-04:002013-04-24T09:30:04.447-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 20<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The Only Time”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nine Inch Nails</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pretty Hate Machine</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9UeBf_5uoKoVcW4guz5859vgmZzvSIpF42-VZ3uhG3x6bHZQ6nRi9vd5gA64B2WAIdwDuDb2cjlWi8forRWI3wDNlHk4h2VQQbVPR9khZZDIji8fcH1Wl3UXqDBsvvcZyd63Aob23Toe/s1600/09+-+Nine+Inch+Nails+-+Pretty+Hate+Machine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht9UeBf_5uoKoVcW4guz5859vgmZzvSIpF42-VZ3uhG3x6bHZQ6nRi9vd5gA64B2WAIdwDuDb2cjlWi8forRWI3wDNlHk4h2VQQbVPR9khZZDIji8fcH1Wl3UXqDBsvvcZyd63Aob23Toe/s200/09+-+Nine+Inch+Nails+-+Pretty+Hate+Machine.JPG" width="198" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the crossroads of sex and religion, there lie Prince and Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor, and though these artists weren’t the genesis for my thoughts on these themes, they certainly informed my view. In Prince’s world sex is nasty and fun, but it also lives alongside absolute faith. Reznor’s vision is darker, blacker, more violent and questioning, borderline hopeless. Reznor credits Prince for “ideas and sounds” on <i>Pretty Hate Machine</i>, and nowhere is that influence more tangible to me than on this provocative track.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have written at length about the influence of Nine Inch Nails’ <i>Pretty Hate Machine</i>, but “The Only Time” has always been my favorite song on the album. This darkly raging exploration of uninhibited lust and the act of losing oneself in another opens with the simple declaration: “I’m drunk.” Reinforcing the emptiness of the moment, this is followed by the admission that “right now I’m so in love with you / And I don’t want to think too much about what we should or shouldn’t do.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As much as I love the shocking vulgarity of first verse’s “Lay my hands on heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars / While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car,” it’s the delivery of the next line that seals the deal for me: “Nothing quite like the feel of something new.” The idea of this graphic image being almost disposable gets to the heart of the detachment from reality that was a cornerstone of late ’80s/early ’90s young adulthood.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looking back on my relationships of the era, I realize just how influenced by this song they were. I took to heart the notion that there needed to be turmoil to make a relationship real, to really feel. Reznor’s notion that “This is the only time I really feel alive” in the chorus echoed all the self-absorption of my late teens and early 20s tortured soul mindset, and resulted in many-a subconsciously sabotaged relationship.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clever turns of phrase like “My moral standing is lying down” and imagery of “The sweat in your eyes, the blood in your veins are listening to me” work perfectly in front of the music’s clashing industrial synthesizer noise and looped breathing samples. Aggressive animalistic basslines thrust my reeling mind through an off-kilter fun house of emotional damage in the same way they propelled me through crowds at those early live shows.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I listen to this song nearly 25 years later, and I am immediately transported back to <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/nothing-quite-like-feel-of-something.html" target="_blank">New Year’s Eve 1989</a>, I’m in the music store I worked at through late high school and college, I’m at all those early shows at the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretty_Hate_Machine_Tour_Series#Pretty_Hate_Machine_Promotional_Tour" target="_blank">Phantasy</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pretty_Hate_Machine_Tour_Series#Hate_1990" target="_blank">Empire</a>, I’m fucking up relationships that deserved better, and words are pouring from the tip of my Sharpie on to unruled paper at a furious pace. The sway this song and this album have over me is staggering, a catalyst to lay bare everything that was swirling inside me.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-12209708862473312122013-04-17T09:30:00.000-04:002013-04-17T09:30:04.111-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 19<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Somebody”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Depeche Mode</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some Great Reward</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1984</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVv6_VxouOVAkEy1epJK3fqQTkNB5q05Yaeu5L-Hzm7zwlMMBt9mL3Tl8OvAihKK-se3hmMxqzZP1q-UeSR089BK5s49ytn2JkC5tekrgqXgnylZwmiDV6HKWRAegfKkXvP02o5Up2xCB/s1600/d+m+-+some.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcVv6_VxouOVAkEy1epJK3fqQTkNB5q05Yaeu5L-Hzm7zwlMMBt9mL3Tl8OvAihKK-se3hmMxqzZP1q-UeSR089BK5s49ytn2JkC5tekrgqXgnylZwmiDV6HKWRAegfKkXvP02o5Up2xCB/s200/d+m+-+some.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like most of America, it was the hit-you-over-the-head obvious, egalitarian “People Are People” where Depeche Mode first came onto my radar. Released in March of 1984, almost a half-year in advance of <i>Some Great Reward</i>, the single’s popularity would prompt the release of a US-only compilation of the same name nearly two months before <i>Some Great Reward</i> was available. The album of new material boasts two of Depeche Mode’s most provocative songs: the psycho-sexual “Master and Servant”, and the religious-questioning “Blasphemous Rumours”. But it’s the double A-side of that latter song that has always caught my ear. After Vince Clarke left Depeche Mode in 1981, Martin Gore stepped up and took over primary songwriting duties for the band. “Somebody” was Gore’s first ballad and only the fourth time he sang lead on a Depeche Mode song. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coming from a place of damaged love, there is a need for comfort. The hopeless romantic as the addict, and “Somebody” is the junkie’s lie – to himself, to her. There are pledges of support and requests for understanding. Challenging and disagreeing are a part of the healthy give-and-take façade that crumbles under harsher light. Things unravel when the singer admits, “I don’t want to be tied to anyone’s strings / I’m carefully trying to steer clear of those things.” Ultimately, the bait has been switched, and “Though things like this / Make me sick / In a case like this / I’ll get away with it.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Playing off the duplicitous lyrical twist, there is a sinister undertone, courtesy of the heartbeat time being kept throughout, and the almost-intelligible voices that provide background… is it children on a playground, idle cocktail party-goers’ chatter, something else entirely?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thematically, I love the bridge between <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2013/04/the-end-of-eighties-track-18.html">The Cure’s “Untitled”</a> and Depeche Mode’s “Somebody” on the playlist. Where the previous track wallows in its self-pity, this one looks for new hope (or at least a new bed to share). Also, of note, the original single version of “Somebody” found on the <i>Catching Up With Depeche Mode</i>/<i>The Singles 81>85</i> compilations shaves a few seconds off the album version, but somehow feels more rich and textured.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-52291035011182200862013-04-10T09:30:00.000-04:002013-04-10T09:30:03.622-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 18<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Untitled”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Cure</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Disintegration</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1989</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When it comes to The Cure, and <i>Disintegration</i> in particular, I’ve said so much already, but I hope that doesn’t mean the subject is unworthy of being revisited and refreshed…</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I started dating Pam in January of 1989. It was the most intense relationship I’d ever been a part of at that point in my life. Inspiration and passion were the order of the day, every day. She encouraged me and challenged me. It was here that I found my voice. Here that I found my creative outlet. Here that <i>Random Thoughts Escaping</i> truly began. The title of the blog is taken from my first collection of poetry dated January 1989 through August 1989, which I pretentiously – and completely unironically in the way only an 18-year-old can – subtitled “Ideas of Life, Death, Love, Loss, Beginnings, and Endings.” I wrote constantly, scribbling furiously every chance I had. I filled page after page of angsty, sometimes-overwrought, sometimes-pretty good poetry. Ultimately, I found my voice and found a direction.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This relationship with Pam, however, wasn’t going to last. She opened me up to worlds I had never experienced, but I didn’t recognize what was always hanging in the air. She gave me as much fair warning as she did play with my heart. Ultimately, she broke it and moved to San Francisco to live with her ex-boyfriend. I spiraled.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Music was a huge part of that period in my life and that relationship in particular. And this album, released just a couple of months before Pam literally moved out of my life, was epic in scale. <i>Disintegration</i> became the soundtrack to my loss, and “Untitled” the voice of my heart. Sitting in my parents family room in the early morning summer hours after coming home from the bars, the stereo playing this album, this song, as my Sharpie raced across the page, trying to capture all the emotion of Life After Pam.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Untitled” is six-and-a-half minutes of sorrow and resignation. Where “Closedown” is musically hard-charging, “Untitled” is languid, wallowing in tears and defeat. Thematically, it’s right in line with what’s considered typical Cure of the era, but the lyrical imagery is some of Robert Smith’s very best:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hopelessly fighting the devil futility</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling the monster climb deeper inside of me</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Feeling him gnawing my heart away hungrily</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ll never lose this pain, never dream of you again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it spoke to me like no other in that dark summer as I struggled to redefine my new self, alone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a young writer, I loved the notion of this song being untitled. It fit perfectly with my own writing style of the time, which lacked punctuation and capitalization, eschewing rhyme and titles (the bulk of my poetry from the era took their titles from the first line of the poem). Today, I recognize “Untitled” as a cheeky bit of fun on Smith’s part, unable to even find the right words to provide a title for a song that laments “Never quite said what I wanted to say to you / Never quite managed the words to explain to you.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’ve followed this blog over the years (thank you!), then you probably already knew there was simply no way “Untitled” wouldn’t appear on the End of the Eighties playlist. For <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2011/01/another-time-undone.html" target="_blank">an expanded look at the entire album this song is taken from and the importance of <i>Disintegration</i></a>, I hope you’ll take a few moments to revisit my thoughts on it from 2011 with fresh eyes, and enjoy!</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-88845468705504156512013-04-03T09:30:00.000-04:002013-04-03T11:58:20.053-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 17<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Jump in the River”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sinéad O’Connor</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1990</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was difficult not to pick the obvious Sinéad O’Connor song here (like I did with the <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-06.html" target="_blank">Cowboy Junkies’ selection</a> earlier on the playlist). “Nothing Compares 2 U” is epic in every way and deserving of its recognition. The strings and verge-of-tears vocals over Prince’s heart wrenching lyrics are a perfect storm of emotion. I remember the video coming on MTV while home from college and calling my mom into the room to watch it, and gushing about how beautiful O’Connor was and those amazing green eyes and trying to put into words the way the song touched me. (The significance of this occasion may be lost over the years, but this was actually an olive branch of sorts – an attempt at connecting with my mom and letting her into my world – given the tempestuous state of my relationship with my parents during my punk phase.) The album that followed shortly after that first proper single was wrapped in stark passion and right in the crosshairs of my musical awareness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But “Jump in the River” is the one that holds specific Bowling Green memories. Located right on Main Street in downtown BG, <a href="http://uptowndowntownbg.com/" target="_blank">Uptown/Downtown</a> was already a ten-year-old fixture in the small college town by the time we arrived on campus. I had no interest in Downtown’s sports bar, but Uptown’s dance club was a perfectly acceptable option.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The ritual of getting ready to go out now seems almost as important as the night out itself was – eyeliner and black lipstick, black tights under ripped jeans, these crazy black boots I had bought the year before, and the black leather motorcycle jacket I bought on consignment in BG (and plastered with NIN and Ministry stickers) all played a role. Throw in a pack of cigarettes and the Zippo lighter John’s dad gave me years before, and the costume was accessorized.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember very little about the inside of Uptown other than ubiquitous crowds and sweat and thumping music. I’m pretty sure “college alternative” nights were on Wednesdays back in the day, but I say that without any sense of certainty. I do know we danced at Uptown to “Jump in the River”. The gunshot ricochet opening and driving percussion make it one of the hardest tracks on <i>I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got</i>. Co-written by O’Connor and Marco Pirroni, he of the seminal punk pedigree, I still love the song’s imagery… </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Real world kisses (“I thought I tasted of too many cigarettes, but you tasted like wine.”) give way to the fascination of a relationship never meant to last (“It’s all been a gorgeous mistake / A sick one, a clean one, the best one God ever made”). Over Pirroni’s screeching feedback guitar, O’Connor describes all the turmoil of young love and lust in a single couplet: “There’s been days like this before, you know, and I liked it all / Like the times we did it so hard there was blood on the wall.” This was music that spoke to me in the same way <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-10.html">The The’s <i>Mind Bomb</i></a> expanded my world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Originally found alongside the likes of New Order, Debbie Harry, Ziggy Marley, Tom Tom Club, and Brian Eno, the song was the lead off of Jonathan Demme’s stellar (and underrated) <i>Married to the Mob</i> soundtrack, meaning “Jump in the River” was actually released a year before O’Connor’s album.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Among the selections on <i>I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got</i>, there are certainly songs I prefer to “Jump in the River” – the slow build from a cappella to the stirring drum and acoustic guitar finale of “The Last Day of Our Acquaintance” springs immediately to mind – but this song makes the most sense based on its ties to nights out at Bowling Green and flow within the playlist.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-7230276370377778362013-03-27T09:30:00.000-04:002013-03-27T10:30:30.385-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 16<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I Melt with You (Tokes’ Rock the World Mix)”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Modern English</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I Melt with You CD Maxi-Single</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1990</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Modern English started out as labelmates of <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-02.html" target="_blank">Cocteau Twins</a>, Dead Can Dance, Pixies, and <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/search?q=end+of+the+eighties+bauhaus" target="_blank">Bauhaus</a>. The original three founding members were even a part of the rotating cast of musicians that participated in 4AD label founder Ivo Watts-Russell’s supergroup This Mortal Coil. But it was the synthpop confection of “I Melt with You” that finds the group treading one-hit wonder territory for the casual music fan. The original 1982 version of the song secured a spot in the pop culture consciousness by being featured in and playing over the closing credits of <i>Valley Girl</i>. The band re-recorded and re-released the song numerous times throughout the years that followed, but were never able to really cash-in on it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember my friends Jen and Nancy humming along with the song on drives home from Thursday’s. And I remember Jeff having a copy of the original <i>After the Snow</i> 4AD release at Bowling Green. But by the time we were on campus, Modern English had broken up, left 4AD, reformed, and were now on the TVT label with a new album – <i>Pillow Lips</i>. The playlist version here is one of the remixes from that latter era found on the 1990 CD maxi-single release of “I Melt with You”. More percussive-based than other versions and drawn out to nearly six minutes, the “Tokes’ Rock the World Mix” is relentlessly optimistic.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Running counterpoint musically and thematically to the funeral dirge The Cure’s catalog occupied in my music library, “I Melt with You” brims over with unstoppable buoyancy. From the iconic humming breakdown to the jangly synths, it all comes back to the sentimental simplicity of a new wave love song.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-61355218630615346882013-03-20T09:30:00.000-04:002013-03-20T09:30:03.451-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 15<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Victim of Love”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Erasure</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Secret Policeman’s Third Ball (The Music)</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1987</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Secret Policeman’s Ball shows, an acclaimed UK series of comedy and music benefits for <a href="http://www.amnesty.org/" target="_blank">Amnesty International</a>, seem to have gone largely unnoticed in the US outside of the new wave community. The music artists and song selections lent themselves to a certain sensibility of the cause at hand among college alternative fans, particularly in the late ’80s. (Yes, I had an Amnesty International poster up on the closet door in our dorm room of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tank_Man" target="_blank">the lone protester standing down a row of tanks in Tiananmen Square</a>.) Boasting a lineup that included Kate Bush, Duran Duran, Lou Reed, Bob Geldof, Peter Gabriel, World Party, and Erasure, the Third Ball soundtrack fit easily into my collection.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While difficult to pick a standout among the album’s selection, Erasure’s deceptively joyous reading of “Victim of Love” gets high marks if only for singer Andy Bell’s over-the-top “Merci beaucoup!” exclamation at the song’s end. But there is more to it than that. The song itself, originally found on the duo’s second album, <i>The Circus</i>, released the same year as their Secret Policeman’s Ball appearance, works thematically for the era. It’s a cautionary tale about guarding one’s heart when entering into a new relationship. And in that period of late adolescence and young adulthood, it is appropriate advice, even if I never personally followed it at the time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is one of a handful of songs that didn’t actually appear on either of <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-70-songs-about-24.html" target="_blank">the original End of the Eighties mix CDs</a>, but the <i>Third Ball</i> album was so prominent in my CD player that year John and I roomed together, and I hold this era of Erasure so closely to my relationship with Pam, there was simply no way I could ignore it when the playlist expanded. And it seemed to fit nicely next to <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-end-of-eighties-track-14_8661.html" target="_blank">Yaz’s “Only You”</a> in the running order, contrasting two of <a href="http://www.vinceclarkemusic.com/intro/index.html">Vince Clarke</a>’s musical outlets.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-36451455505587248882013-03-13T09:30:00.003-04:002013-03-15T12:20:29.461-04:00The End of the Eighties, Track 14<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Only You”</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yaz</span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upstairs at Eric’s</span></i></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1982</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kari, my first college girlfriend, had <i>Upstairs at Eric’s</i> on cassette. We caught each other’s eye during freshman orientation, and I remember pointing her out to John in the crowd. I lamented afterwards that I wasn’t able to find her to talk with her after the assembly, and John matter-of-factly informed me that on a campus of 15,000 I was bound to run into her again. Sure enough, crossing campus one night soon thereafter with my newly found group of friends, we passed her. Even more amazing, I learned that our new friend Jennifer knew Kari because they were both in the vocal program.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kari went to a high school and school district with the same name as mine, but that was located in Northwestern Ohio, which always amazed me (perhaps the first hint that my world wasn’t quite as unique as I had previously thought). She had done some modeling in high school, and although she looked every bit the punk when we dated – dyed hair, dark makeup, black wardrobe, piercings – her striking beauty still shone through with an exotic hint. She’s the girlfriend who pierced my cartilage the night of the <a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/03/end-of-eighties-track-13.html" target="_blank">Bizarre Love Triangle</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to Kari’s parent’s house once while we were dating. I remember her hometown seeming every bit as rural as mine (perhaps more so), but I don’t remember if I spent the night or not. Her parents’ house was close enough to Bowling Green that it’s possible we just went there one weekend afternoon. I do know I brought her home to my parents’ house one long weekend while we were dating. I introduced her to my high school punk friends and took her to Thursday’s.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Much like the intertwined relationships of college and young adulthood, there was a certain incestuous nature to the alternative bands of the ’80s. The tangling of rosters was always fascinating to me: The Cure’s Robert Smith playing with Siouxsie and the Banshees, Electronic’s Pet Shop Boys/New Order/Smiths lineup, the Mission UK/Sisters of Mercy connections, and on and on. And then there’s Vince Clarke... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clarke helped found Depeche Mode and contributed three hits to their <i>Speak & Spell</i> debut, “Dreaming of Me”, “New Life”, and “Just Can’t Get Enough”, then left the band. He hooked up with Alison Moyet and produced two albums in the same number of years under the Yaz banner (Yazoo in the UK). Before teaming up with Andy Bell to form Erasure – his longest lasting musical partnership – in 1985, there was a detour as The Assembly (producing the Feargal Sharkey fronted single “Never Never”).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If there is a godfather of ’80s college alternative synth, it’s Clarke. But among the considerable body of Clarke’s work (or the entire genre of synthpop, for that matter), it was never more organic than Yaz’s output. 1982’s <i>Upstairs at Eric’s</i> has a surprising warmth to it, owed in no small part to Moyet’s vocals. Even in the late ’80s, it still felt fresh and connected with us on so many levels.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My relationship with Kari imploded spectacularly before the first semester ended. It was entirely my fault, and I don’t know that we ever made it back to being anything more than the fringes of civil in each other’s presence for the remainder of my time on campus. But there were so many nights we spent on the deck of the campus library seeping well into the early morning hours where we poured our hearts out to each other, living the drama that only a college-aged couple can. The chiming ballad of “Only You”, though, remains one of my favorite songs of the era. It’s when wrapped in that aural warmth that I can close my eyes and still see Kari’s face from all those years ago, and remember how fortunate I was to have known her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On a musically related sidenote, possibly the only synthpop act to come close to matching the lushness of Yaz was the (equally) criminally short-lived early 2000s Akron band, <a href="http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/20goto10-050922/" target="_blank">20goto10</a>. Classically trained vocalist Sara Eugene’s pipes were every bit as haunting and full as anything Moyet has done.</span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-29753313104218832712013-03-11T09:30:00.000-04:002013-03-11T09:30:03.628-04:00The End of the Eighties - REVIVAL!<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am a nostalgia whore. And music is almost always a trigger for me. Probably close to 15 years ago I sat down and just wrote lists and lists of songs and a one or two sentence description of what immediately comes to mind when I hear those songs. This list of music and associations spans my entire life – from the pop music and 8-tracks my sister first exposed me to in the ’70s and early ’80s to the classic and hard rock I that shaped my middle school and early high school years of the mid-’80s to the alternative college rock of the late ’80s that defined some of the most influential times in my young adulthood.</span><br />
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Somewhere around a dozen years ago, I created a pair of CD sets for my wife and close college friends, compiling songs that I felt captured our shared history from that last era. These exercises collided spectacularly a few years ago when, after thoughtfully combining the two playlists into a single, five-hour-plus late ’80s time capsule, I originally sat down to write about each of the tracks. Seventy songs about 24 months, each track taking me on a different journey. Sometimes diving into the artist’s history, sometimes into my personal history, sometimes on tangents I never expected, I made my way through the first 13 tracks, then life got in the way. It’s an exercise I’ve wanted to revisit for quite a while, but I didn’t want to publish anything more until I was certain I could devote the time to it the project deserves.</div>
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My favorite outcome from when I originally published the first 13 tracks here was receiving feedback from not just the people who were there, but also encouragement from people whose musical opinion I value, like <a href="http://twitter.com/slicingeyeballs" target="_blank">Matt Sebastian</a> over at <a href="http://www.slicingupeyeballs.com/" target="_blank">Slicing Up Eyeballs</a> and <a href="http://twitter.com/davepurcell" target="_blank">Dave Purcell</a>. I was also amazed by the way my writing provided a catalyst for people from my past to engage me – like <a href="http://www.everypageofmobydick.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Matt Kish</a>, who I referenced in Track 10 – when I had no idea they were out there, let alone reading my blog or remembered me more than 20 years later.</div>
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It’s the memory of those exchanges – sometimes just brief Twitter responses, sometimes lengthy email conversations – that has kept this project alive in my head over the last few years. In January, I set out to resume this creative workout, and I have been writing furiously ever since, picking up right where I had left off with Track 14 and plowing ahead with renewed creative energies. I intend to post a track a week until this thing is compete, and my ultimate goals remain the same as they did when this project was originally launched: When finished, you’ll have some perspective on the music of the era, a window into the events that shaped me into the person I have become, and the blueprint for a kickass ’80s playlist! </div>
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Links to the introduction and the first 13 tracks can be found here, as well as along the right side of the blog in the “End of the Eighties” section. I hope you’ll take the time over the next few days to revisit the original tracks and continue to come back each Wednesday for new songs over the next year or so to add to the playlist as we time travel together, letting the music take us where my memory bends, and I hope you'll join the conversation by commenting on the blog, as well as spread the word far and wide on Twitter, Google+, and Facebook.</div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-70-songs-about-24.html" target="_blank">2010 Introduction: 70 Songs About 24 Months</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-01.html" target="_blank">Track 01 - “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” (Bauhaus)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-02.html" target="_blank">Track 02 - “From the Flagstones” (Cocteau Twins)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-03.html" target="_blank">Track 03 - “Saudade” (Love and Rockets)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/01/end-of-eighties-track-04.html" target="_blank">Track 04 - “A Few Hours After This…” (The Cure)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-05.html" target="_blank">Track 05 - “Blind Hearts” (Xymox)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-06.html" target="_blank">Track 06 - “Sweet Jane” (Cowboy Junkies)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-07.html" target="_blank">Track 07 - “Candleland” (Ian McCulloch)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-08.html" target="_blank">Track 08 - “The Spy in the Cab” (Bauhaus)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-09.html" target="_blank">Track 09 - “Something I Can Never Have” (Nine Inch Nails)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/02/end-of-eighties-track-10.html" target="_blank">Track 10 - “Gravitate to Me” (The The)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/03/end-of-eighties-track-11.html" target="_blank">Track 11 - “Stripped” (Depeche Mode)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/03/end-of-eighties-track-12.html" target="_blank">Track 12 - “Time Has Got Nothing to Do with It” (Peter Murphy)</a></div>
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<a href="http://randomthoughtsescaping.blogspot.com/2010/03/end-of-eighties-track-13.html" target="_blank">Track 13 - “Bizarre Love Triangle” (New Order)</a></div>
ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-62994348654191091692013-03-07T08:15:00.000-05:002013-03-07T13:13:57.435-05:00Converted<span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">Mike Doughty Band</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-weight: bold;">17 June 2006: House of Blues, Cleveland, Ohio</span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDFpi8YGowJ3vJeCw-DKSNLfTL6a0qtLyQDBOXFU0O07iNiN4Fs7xbCHPIOrakUivhcE8BhUyWMNq00SyB4fOSatd7DFkDt9eL7rUzQKZsM4ZX1HsdvP4rdJJ_XtM8SEHzvXWdh9s9A9B/s1600/mike+doughty+band.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721404571933293730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDFpi8YGowJ3vJeCw-DKSNLfTL6a0qtLyQDBOXFU0O07iNiN4Fs7xbCHPIOrakUivhcE8BhUyWMNq00SyB4fOSatd7DFkDt9eL7rUzQKZsM4ZX1HsdvP4rdJJ_XtM8SEHzvXWdh9s9A9B/s320/mike+doughty+band.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 160px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;">The enthusiastic crowd that turned out for the Mike Doughty Band performance didn’t seem to need any converting, but I did. Although not previously a fan of Doughty’s solo recorded work, the band’s performance at the 2006 CMJ Rock Hall Music Fest seems to have done the trick for me. I was surprised and impressed with almost every tune, and the laid-back and playful attitude of the band carried off the stage and up to the rafters.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />Some of the technical difficulties that plagued Kevin Devine’s opening act lingered when Doughty took the stage shortly after 9:30, but they were easily overcome by the performance itself. Opening with a rocking version of “Busting Up a Starbucks” and charging through nearly 20 songs in an hour and a half, Doughty and his band delivered a bluesy, jazzy, organic rock show.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />Doughty’s drummer Pete McNeal is fond of the phrase “dialed in,” as in yelling “The band is dialed in tonight!” On this night, McNeal was dialed in to his drum solo following a killer one-two punch of “Madeline and Nine” and “American Car” off of Doughty’s then-most recent effort, <span style="font-style: italic;">Haughty Music</span>. But between the two songs, McNeal held up an extra set of pants he had up on the riser for the crowd to see, and he and Doughty had an amusing exchange about McNeal being “dialed in to the pants tonight” as well. Although the good-natured approach of the band is elemental to the group, ultimately it is secondary to the music. This is obvious when watching Scrap Livingston’s upright bass playing -- especially on songs like the expressive “Madeline and Nine”, where Livingston’s love of the music is on full display.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />Most of the full band’s set carried a strong bass line, sparse but heavy drums, and “the brave youngster” John Kirby’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Space Invaders</span>-like keyboard work. But while elements of Doughty’s previous band were audible here, his own four-guitar effort was always at the forefront, providing a distinctly different sound from his seven years of work with Soul Coughing. This was especially apparent during the three-song solo mini-set in the middle of the show, where Doughty took center stage for exceptional renditions of “Shunned + Falsified” and “The Only Answer” from 2000’s <span style="font-style: italic;">Skittish</span>. He followed these with the only song I really knew before the show, “I Hear the Bells”, which appears on the <span style="font-style: italic;">Veronica Mars</span> soundtrack (and that <a href="http://www.popmatters.com/pm/feature/surroundsound-051017">I previously referred to as “tripe”</a>). Doughty’s beat poetry approach to lyrics take on added weight in a live setting, accompanied by his steel guitar and the crowd singing along.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />The rest of the band returned for the strongest collection of songs of the night, including the “Tremendous Brunettes”/”Unsingable Name”/”Looking at the World from the Bottom of a Well” trifecta. “Unsingable Name” would have been the highlight of the show, but Doughty and the band pulled out a little bit of the unexpected: He threw a snippet of “It’s Raining Men” into the mix to keep a promise made to the crowd during an earlier request, then went into the first few lines of Guns N’ Roses’ “Paradise City”. But all of this was topped by an absolutely rocking version of Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler”! Doughty covered this song for his 2005 iTunes-only EP of the same name, but like the rest of Doughty’s work, the studio version has nothing on the live take. As I stood there during the entirely appropriate main set closer, amid the frenzied exuberance of the crowd spilling over the balcony, it dawned on me that nobody sits around and thinks, “Man, why hasn’t anyone covered ‘The Gambler’?” But, damned if hearing this version doesn’t make you think, “Why hasn’t anyone done this before?!”</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />The show could have ended there and I would have been perfectly happy, but the band came back for a two-song encore of Soul Coughing’s “St. Louise is Listening” (which Doughty also served up in solo form on <span style="font-style: italic;">The Gambler EP</span>) and Doughty’s sweet, redeeming “Your Misfortune”. As a bonus, the encore included the night’s “Scrap Fact” – where Livingston came to center stage and opined a single-lined nugget of wisdom: “Yellow is the alleged color of insanity.”</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br />Many of the songs throughout the set had multiple hard breaks – places where the music could stretch and breathe – and the crowd anticipation and excitement would build during each successive start-stop moment. I got caught up in that shared exhilaration. The band’s ability and Doughty’s personality came across brilliantly in the live setting, overcoming my reservations about the studio material, which often comes off a little too adult contemporary and safe, and let me enjoy the music and the evening as much as the already-converted in the crowd.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(An edited version of this piece was previously published by PopMatters.)</span></span>ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5036179867674868261.post-50591741212731015982013-03-04T08:14:00.000-05:002013-03-04T09:03:09.170-05:00Jared and the Pits of Zaren<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year, Jack created a character named Jarod for a story
he started writing for fun over the summer called <i>The Halfling</i>. That story was never
finished, but when an assignment came up for sixth grade Language Arts last
semester, he changed the spelling of the name and took the character in a
completely different direction. The assignment included the story being
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clearly influenced by the fantasy and medieval books –
including Tolkien and all things dragon-related – he devours at ridiculous
clip, here is the paper he presented for the class. He got an A.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some see me as black-haired,
gold-eyed, white-skinned, sword-wielding me, but others see me as a warrior and
general. Who am I? I am Jared Diamondback, and this is one of my adventures.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day was normal at first,
but little did I know that was about to change. That day, I got up as normal
and went to the training grounds within the castle’s walls.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q-woyumQQN143I_gXo0SsHM-YqY3qRrz-RR9uhQfEcom7rAMLigZDMOw6Il1o_Q7IFLMTv4WQXhsQ0hHa9VQPfvhL327jHb-URGkv-FkPEibKFLJUsmMJOQRL_pfuK0RjrdKPxTJh0pL/s1600/Jared+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Q-woyumQQN143I_gXo0SsHM-YqY3qRrz-RR9uhQfEcom7rAMLigZDMOw6Il1o_Q7IFLMTv4WQXhsQ0hHa9VQPfvhL327jHb-URGkv-FkPEibKFLJUsmMJOQRL_pfuK0RjrdKPxTJh0pL/s320/Jared+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> If you haven’t guessed, I am a knight and
archer in King Lewis II’s army. I am also known as “Hawk.” At the training
grounds, I overheard some other knights and a few archers speaking about a
dragon called Zaren.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first voice I heard I
recognized as Mark, a strong, low-voiced knight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I hear he is 100 feet tall!”
said Mark.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Aye, I hear he has claws
sharper than Gregor the blacksmith’s swords,” said one with a higher-pitched
voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Oh, yeah, I hear his scales
are blacker than the nightshade mix of iron and steel, and his fire hotter than
Hell!” said another.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s where I come in. “What
in blazes are you talking about?” I said with a touch of suspicion.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well, if it isn’t Hawk,” said
Mark, not at all surprised to see me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I saw my friend Deric among
them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Zaren is a myth,” I said. “If
he was real, he would have raided the kingdom by now, don’t you think?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Maybe, but he is resourceful,
after all. He is the King’s brother’s dragon,” said Mark.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
King’s brother has been dead for years, but now his dragon resurfaces?</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> I
wondered to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I thought Zaren in his rage upon
the one who killed his master was overwhelmed in sheer number and was slain by his
master’s killer!” I said with a touch of curiosity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Whatever, let’s go guys,” said
Mark, and all but Deric left.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hey, Jared, do you believe
them?” Deric, who has blond hair, blue eyes, a higher pitched voice than Mark
or me, and is of average height, asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“No,” I said with a sneer.
“What do they know? Some people are so stupid, and Mark is one of them!” I said,
but I didn’t know how wrong I was!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next three days went on as
normal, seeing no sign of Mark or his gang until Friday, when the King wanted
to see me. I admit it was a little nerve-wracking to be summoned by the King
and his wizard Gorgavitch (but I didn’t let Mark, who was lurking in the
shadows, see). Gorgavitch is an old wizard, portly, kind, grey-haired, nicely
goateed, your standard castle wizard. The king is a very charitable man, who
gives money and food to the poor. He also is a brave warrior and only gives
quests to the best, of which I am one.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aFQ-lIRyxZmEgwN3uHqlBqDtOaEroTwpEVBxZyvFCaMnzJ4ci4xJ0-dH4AL5WqzdE8MF1Aiflz1_hdwwe9ukhNIeGXzM-WbzyzaiT-K1Vw9FczMm4XuRX8lk6P0uNF-kMhXuaqFKGuTr/s1600/Jared+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5aFQ-lIRyxZmEgwN3uHqlBqDtOaEroTwpEVBxZyvFCaMnzJ4ci4xJ0-dH4AL5WqzdE8MF1Aiflz1_hdwwe9ukhNIeGXzM-WbzyzaiT-K1Vw9FczMm4XuRX8lk6P0uNF-kMhXuaqFKGuTr/s320/Jared+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ahh, Jared, there you are!”
exclaimed the King. “I have need of your services and talents for a quest to
reclaim my enchanted chest plate,” said the King.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I would be honored!” I said
proudly. “When do I depart, my liege?” I asked with a cock of my head.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You leave in two days’ time,”
said the King. “You had best start packing your things. You have a long journey
ahead.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next few days were filled
with packing, and people wishing me good luck and saying farewell to me. Deric,
who asked to come, was granted permission to join me on my journey and quest by
the King.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One week later, we came upon
the Desert of Endless Flame, so named because of the scorching fire and sunlight
strewn about the desert. It was there we faced our first obstacle when we
stumbled into a goblin camp. The one in charge was a fat, pampered, grotesque,
and vile beast that we saw only from the back. At first, they were fighting
over something very large and very fat. It turned out to be a boar.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It’s ours! We’re the ones who
slayed it,” said one group.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“No, it’s ours! Give it to us
or we’ll slay the lot of you and take it for our own!” hollered another group.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhBbS8DTEH8lEyfn6AysyRphELi8QmXmD5On88oppGveayjFZRh_-ugRCsArCcCQxYq0pLGiCJeKmb918-tFEL5BUgHNeWgwC4EGQ6THJNNJ-4GQtzBWLiDzh5g7qJzGMTTpCbqN-kK2I/s1600/Jared+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifhBbS8DTEH8lEyfn6AysyRphELi8QmXmD5On88oppGveayjFZRh_-ugRCsArCcCQxYq0pLGiCJeKmb918-tFEL5BUgHNeWgwC4EGQ6THJNNJ-4GQtzBWLiDzh5g7qJzGMTTpCbqN-kK2I/s320/Jared+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">They appear
to be two separate groups. Hmmm…,</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> I thought as they started to
fight each other. After an hour or two, I snapped. I jumped headlong into the
fray. The little goblins saw us first. They stopped fighting amongst their kin
and turned all attention to us. One shot an arrow, and then all heck broke
loose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deric and I slipped away unseen
into the night as they slayed each other while we captured their leader to be
our guide. The next three weeks were spent getting out of the desert. Then came
the forest.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The dark, wet, old forest of
Mirkwood is where we met the elves. The elves have long been at war with the
goblins and orc.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMs57xCJqWudFUy4d_ysYiSXx7lzhak3sJtWTXE7LNgOlW_e47OPyMXnEct0fq4Pcup_9cLmo4VbzSQl6EpIKzkb-auswVvP0cIPnqp_B3pz6St_ltufpLsCgIBFyqa7Co_G8d9_SDBHP/s1600/Jared+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUMs57xCJqWudFUy4d_ysYiSXx7lzhak3sJtWTXE7LNgOlW_e47OPyMXnEct0fq4Pcup_9cLmo4VbzSQl6EpIKzkb-auswVvP0cIPnqp_B3pz6St_ltufpLsCgIBFyqa7Co_G8d9_SDBHP/s320/Jared+4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because of the goblin blood all over our
bodies and the goblin leader with us, the elves mistook us for goblins. The
elves started an ambush, which caught us off guard. First, they bombed us with
arrows and, to make matters worse, the trees seemed to come alive and thrash at
us. The elven warriors never stopped their barrage of arrows, even when we tried
to negotiate that we were men, not goblins. The goblin leader was shot in the
eye and died soon thereafter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
world won’t miss him</span></i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">, I thought to myself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Deric looked utterly terrified.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Let’s try this one more time!”
I yelled to Deric over the sound of arrows screaming through the air and elven
warriors yelling to each other in elvish. As I yelled, I noticed the new types
of arrows being fired.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Explosives!” I yelled to Deric
who was cowering in a cave nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What?” he yelled over the
explosions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Explosives!” I yelled again. “This
is going to be a long day,” I muttered. “Let’s try to reason with them,” I
said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the middle of the battle,
Deric tried to find a stream to clean off the grime of desert and the goblins.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Jared,” I heard Deric call, “I
think I found our stream!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Great,” I yelled back, “let’s
clean off this filth and blood.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We cleansed ourselves, and the
elves realized we were humans and not goblin or any other wretched beast. To
convey that they were sorry, they sent with us a companion named MapleWorth.
They said he was their best warrior and archer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Welcome to our questing
party!” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes, welcome,” added Deric.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Let’s get going,” I said,
suddenly serious.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Why now?” asked MapleWorth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Because I’m sure the King is
getting impatient, and we musn’t tarry any longer.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Ok, let’s get going then,”
said MapleWorth.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a week or two of
traveling (it’s hard to keep track of time whilst questing), we ended up in the
Pits of Zaren. I was curious as to how MapleWorth knew his way around so well.
To my surprise, when I asked him about it he said, “My kin and I used to live
in these lands until Zaren came one day, long, long ago and stole our land and
burned our shops and houses. He is what changed our lives forever. He drove us
out of our own lands.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That was when we came upon
Zaren, and I saw him for the first time in the flesh. He looked just as I had
heard the knights and archers describe him so many months ago. He was truly a
fearsome beast, and he still had the tattered remains of the King’s brother’s armor
on his back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTiGWB3I64amFMs1sqfEIREA2G6_KQnvH3jwT6NCzhB0TwGEp9dC_grbf3AyPXIW60vV0hdC6ugisp61tKSwi11N43KzhTNYpRT-1N7182Rl9vNgdgkFrISfAlNs5Fo-Lyef450YXJrEc/s1600/Jared+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTiGWB3I64amFMs1sqfEIREA2G6_KQnvH3jwT6NCzhB0TwGEp9dC_grbf3AyPXIW60vV0hdC6ugisp61tKSwi11N43KzhTNYpRT-1N7182Rl9vNgdgkFrISfAlNs5Fo-Lyef450YXJrEc/s320/Jared+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Who dares enter my realm?” the
dragon asked, more perplexed than angry. “Hmmmm, an elf,” he said as he caught
our scent, “and two men. One of your number is terrified out of his wits,” the
dragon said, a little amused.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I am Jared, this is Deric, and
that is MapleWorth,” I yelled to the great beast of the pits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well, Jared,” the dragon
sneered, “if you think you can slay me, it will take more than a mere sword and
bow.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I know that, for this is no
mere blade. This is one of the Lost Blades of the Dragon Wars in which you
supposedly <i>died</i>,” I grinned at Zaren.
“This blade will be your demise, you foul, wretched beast. I will send you back
to the black pits from whence you came!” I screamed at the beast. And I
promptly cut off three of his big fat toes as MapleWorth and Deric notched their
arrows and prepared to fire.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Zaren shot a bolt of flame and
smoke into the air, and then it began.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“MapleWorth, focus your fire on
his chest and face. Deric, you focus your flaming arrows at his feet,” I said in
a grim but commanding voice.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“What about you?” they asked in
unison.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I will slay him myself, if you
guys can keep him occupied,” I yelled back.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the end, I slayed Zaren, but
Deric got slashed up pretty badly. MapleWorth was surprisingly unscathed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_Vidi3S706bCOtNQ0xFFFEpoJp80YwnsfvL5ml2OXTYa-Nh-PJSxADUD7cPftbhPUIjgeBkX9VxZdyNc1Dzog4862jNCbCnHlW7UjGti-hjP_wYwWWGv-gRNJLHASnvBEi9ojGb71VG0/s1600/Jared+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd_Vidi3S706bCOtNQ0xFFFEpoJp80YwnsfvL5ml2OXTYa-Nh-PJSxADUD7cPftbhPUIjgeBkX9VxZdyNc1Dzog4862jNCbCnHlW7UjGti-hjP_wYwWWGv-gRNJLHASnvBEi9ojGb71VG0/s320/Jared+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Jared,” Deric mumbled from his
hospital bed, safely back in the King’s realm.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes, I’m here, my friend.” I
said reassuringly.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I… I can feel myself fading.
I… think this is the end,” he mumbled.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“N…” I was cut off by the sound
of the old heavy oak doors being pushed open. The King and MapleWorth walked
in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“It is not the end!” cried MapleWorth,
as he tended to Deric’s wounds. “I can heal him.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Thank you for returning my
chest plate. I shall make you a noble, and you will be welcome at the castle
any time,” the King exclaimed with delight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that concludes this quest. Farewell,
good reader, farewell.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->ABhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05927664219845190615noreply@blogger.com0