Frontier Former Editor

August 24, 2008

And for what could very well rival any song that William Shatner ever interpreted . . .

Dawn, singing Steely Dan . . . .

While I still think Paul Anka has the championship title of worst song in the world, I’m amazed that this duo managed to suck every bit of angst, despair, irony and darkness out this song.

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August 9, 2008

Dueling Steely Dan

Filed under: cool stuff, music, old times, Steely Dan — Tags: , , , , , , , — Frontier Former Editor @ 11:00 pm

I’m sorry, but I have to laugh at youngsters these days who think groups with suggestively-title songs and oblique, bawdy names are somehow offensive and subversive. One of my all-time favorite groups – even at age 46 – is named after a dildo mentioned in a book by America’s greatest dope fiend . . . . yes, I’m talkin’ bout Steely Dan.

My good friend ~M (not to be confused with a child killer played by Peter Lorre) and I exchange our online Dan finds from time to time. Since he raised my live Dan with this classic, I’ll see his and raise with . . . .

Top that, you little bastards . . .

August 3, 2008

Of round-eyed devils, exotic jewelry and unsettling romance . . .

You can either go down to the Walmart and listen to the muzak or dig this . . .

Green Flower Street

 

Green Earrings

 

Rikki Don’t Lose That Number

March 22, 2008

In my old school . . .

Filed under: music, old times, Steely Dan — Tags: , , , — Frontier Former Editor @ 12:12 am

the white kids at Jacox Junior High in Norfolk were either listening to Nazareth, Aerosmith, Foghat or Frampton.

I was wearing out the grooves on my copy of “The Royal Scam,” and this track especially:

 

Sometimes I wonder if I should have listened to more ‘fun’ music, and then I remember: This is fun music.

November 22, 2007

Same as it ever was . . . same as it ever was – or musical wanderings

One spring evening 22 years ago, I was sitting in the old Biograph Theater in Richmond, Virginia enjoying a pleasant buzz from the half-gallon milk jug of grapefruit juice and grain that my roomie had brought along to enhance the experience of “Stop Making Sense.”

One of the better concert films of my particular era, even stacked against “The Last Waltz,” I rather enjoyed watching this particular flick. Even though the opening with “Psycho Killer” was fascinating enough, this segment left me walking around the dorm many a drunken night wearing an oversized sportcoat and jerking around as if being shot repeatedly by a large caliber handgun and muttering “same as it ever was, same as it ever was, same as it ever was . . . ”

More proof that geeky white boys can funk and rock . . .

While sitting at work Tuesday, waiting on hold for some other agent with an infirm grasp of the obvious to help my customer on some issue, I was vegging out momentarily when I realized that the hold muzak had a Steely Dan/Donald Fagen theme and that I was whistling “Green Flower Street.” At once, I realized that the barely post-teen agent in the next cubicle was looking at me like I’d lost my mind, that the muzak was almost worth listening to, and that Steely Dan had achieved cultural trivialization.

And a little side trip with Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings . . .

I’m still not exactly in a literarily coherent state these days, but I’m working on it.

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