On the Radio: "You May Be Right" by Billy Joel

I'm gonna get right to it this time: Why in the heck does Billy Joel's character tell a woman, "and you told me NOTS to drive," in this song?

Seriously. Listen to it again. The official lyric is:

And you told me not to drive
But I made it home alive
So you said that only proves that I'm insane

Sure, that's what Big Publishing WANTS us to think. But what Joel actually says is, "You told me NOTS to drive."   What's up with that?

Is it supposed to show how CRAZY this guy is? "Whoa, that lunatic talks like Sheldon Leonard! He IS insane!" (NOTE: I have no idea what that Sheldon Leonard reference means)

Is it Billy Joel's way of slipping in something a little extra edgy? Does it have something to do, somehow, some way, with dynamic range/mixing/some other technical aspect of the recording process I don't actually care about?

Am I crazy?

On the Radio: Everybody's...something for the weekend

On the Friday before Independence Day, I was listening to the radio when I caught a "Big Riff of the Day" contest on a local classic rock station. The DJ played a snippet of Eric Clapton's "Cocaine," and the idea was listeners would call in to identify the song. It's a fun little contest.

What struck me was her comment after playing the brief clip. "I know it's an easy one," she said, "especially with everyone's mind on the weekend." Now, I THINK she meant she was giving everyone an easy song because everybody was distracted by it being Friday before a big holiday. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that was the idea.

But my first thought was, "Is she saying this particular song is easy because everyone is already gearing up to do some cocaine this weekend?" Like, "Yeah, it's a 3-day weekend! USA! Cocaine bender!"

I don't think that was the meaning. I'm not sure, though.

On the radio" "End of the Line" by the Travelling Willburys

I caught this track, the second single off the debut Willburys album, on a local station while driving home the other night. It's nice to get that quick radio thrill every now and then--the excitement of, "Hey, haven't heard THIS in a while!" It's also nice to know I still get it. I write about this every now and then, and this moment triggered another post.

If I have access to YouTube, I can listen to just about any song I can think of in a matter of moments (depending on the length of the ad I have to sit through), which has changed the way I interact with and feel about music. For example, right now if I want to TOTALLY ROCK OUT, I can crank up some vintage Christopher Cross while I write this, Who knows what it's like for these millennials (that's still the term, right?) who grew up in an on-demand world and never had to listen to the radio hoping to hear a certain tune. Do they yearn for Christopher Cross? Or have they heard his stuff so many times they just feel jaded?

Maybe the on-demand scene hasn't totally eradicated the feeling of--not even discovery, but of REdiscovery, of catching up with a song you forgot you loved. After all, the station I was listening to when "End of the Line" played was in the middle of a syndicated all-request show. So presumably someone picked up the phone and asked for the show to play the song on the radio, then waited to hear it, as opposed to just Googling it and hearing it on a phone.

The end result: I got to hear a cool one I hadn't enjoyed in quite some time. If I want to hear it again, I don't even have to dig into my CD collection. I can just type and click. But is that as satisfying or as fun as stumbling upon it while driving home? I think not.

Eh, maybe I'm just old.

Underrated Christmas Songs

I want to expand on my Top 5 list currently in the sidebar on the right. I normally put a "bottom 5" in that spot, but in the interest of positivity and the holiday spirit, I scrapped my idea of highlighting the most overplayed songs (this means I won't mention Wham's "Last Christmas," which I hear more than "White Christmas" these days, not that I'm mentioning that) and listed some tunes that deserve more attention.

"Underneath the Tree" by Kelly Clarkson: A great Christmas song makes you feel better after you hear it, and I can't listen to this and not smile. Mariah Carey made the modern staple "All I Want for Christmas Is You," and I enjoy that one, but at this point I wouldn't mind if programmers made more room for this one.

"Someday at Christmas" by the Jackson Five: I would have said the Stevie Wonder version was underrated simply because it was one of the best Christmas recordings ever, but this year's Apple commercial is surely sending a lot of people to the original version. So let me spotlight the Jacksons, a poignant rendition in its own right with the lads trading verses and, at one point, singing the special line, "Someday at Christmas, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm, mmm...."

"Merry Xmas Everybody" by Slade: I imagine many of our friends across the Atlantic are sick of this one, but I never hear it over here...except maybe if I happen to catch a token hour of Christmas songs played by a local rock station on December 25.

"Christmas Is the Time to Say I Love You" by Billy Squier: The legendary goofy video recorded at the MTV offices gives this one some enduring cachet, but how often do you hear it on the radio or at the mall?

"Caroling, Caroling (Christmas Bells are Ringing)" by Nat King Cole: This is one of the great underappreciated Christmas carols--just a beautiful song--but you have to give particular credit to the King for managing to sound dignified as always even while uttering the words "ding dong."

On the radio: Rockin' in the grocery store

I have often said that one of the best and most underappreciated places to hear classic rock music these days is at the local grocery store. I wish I could cite a specific place or time I said that. I have, though; just trust me on that one.

Last month I was at Wegmans (no apostrophe, please) near closing time, and as I searched for some kind of dessert, I enjoyed the in-house sound system blaring Tom Petty's "A Higher Place" from his underrated 1994 "Wildflowers" album. This is a really good song, one you'll never hear on the radio anymore, one you may not have heard as much as you should have in 1994, but one you can hear while looking for a giant birthday cookie in a supermarket an hour before the joint shuts down.

There was an extra spring in my step as I bounded through the bakery, and though it vanished when I couldn't find a giant birthday cookie, I still enjoyed the tune. I wasn't the only one; some dude cleaning up his station was whistling along and grooving. It used to be you could count on a steady does of Chuck Mangione to go along with your groceries, but now you can expect actual rock music in this kind of shopping outlet.

Wait, does this mean classic rock is old and, worse, that...I'M old?

NAHHHH.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that if you are frustrated by the lack of radio options on your dial, stop by your local supermarket. You might hear something you won't hear many other places. You might even find a giant birthday cookie. Just don't count on that one.

On the radio: It's hard out there

I'm having problems with my car stereo again, and so I am forced to listen to the radio while driving around. This makes me rather cranky considering that virtually all terrestrial radio in my area is unlistenable (may not be an actual word, but it should be) for more than 10 minutes at a time.

There are some bright spots, though: I discovered that vintage episodes of "American Top 40" are syndicated and run in many markets on weekends. What a joy it was hearing someone talk about Prince, thinking, "That sounds like Casey Kasem," and realizing, hey, it IS! Songs just sound better when accompanied by a factoid or two from Casey. "Raspberry Beret" sounds just as fresh and joyous today as it did then, by the way, and it sounds great in a car.

The episodes are chosen at random, I guess; last week I heard a little bit of an installment from 1980, and all I can say is the chart was full of music that does NOT sound as fresh today as it did then. Other than hearing my gal Olivia Newton-John, I wasn't feeling that episode. Still, any old episode of "American Top 40" beats two hours of today's hit music.

It seems every time I'm forced to listen to radio for an extended period, it's my double misfortune that Justin Timberlake has an album out at the time. I don't care how much I'm supposed to like the guy, I can't get into his music. Same for Bruno Mars. While flipping the dial (I am constantly flipping the dial trying to find something worthwhile), I keep hearing some song that sounds like a weak imitation of early Sting with a less reggae-fied beat.

One of the worst gimmicks to hit classic rock radio is "Two-for Tuesday." If a station used the concept of two songs in a row by the same artist to play deep cuts with that second track, well, I might get behind it. Instead, you hear the opening of "Born to be Wild," and you know, well, next up is gonna be "Magic Carpet Ride," because this station plays only the same couple hundred songs over and over and over again (Hey., I'd leave to hear "Over and Over" by the DC5 on the radio).

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: John Mellencamp deserves at least a small measure of respect. Twice last week I heard his early John Cougar-era hit "I Need a Lover," on two different stations--each time without the extended instrumental opening. Clipped versions of old Mellencamp songs may not bother some people, but they bug this old crank.

Talk radio is no better. The local right-wing rant station seems never to be actually talking about an issue itself, but rather whining about how the "mainstream media" is covering the issue. Why not cover the topic yourself instead of trying to be ombudsman for MSNBC or whatever? It amazes me how many of these talking heads and their callers spend time consuming media sources that clearly make them ill. I mean, when I come across a Justin Timberlake or a Bruno Mars song, I don't listen to it, take notes, and call a radio show.  I turn it off.

I tried listening to some sports radio, but this past week was brutal. Usually on weeknights, I have my choice of several different baseball games. But with the All-Star break, options were limited. Even during the daytime hours, the lack of games apparently made many of the hosts desperate to talk about something other than sports, even though they rarely dissect in-game strategies in detail, anyway.

The other day, one station had its own localized version of Espy awards for various sports achievements, complete with listener discussion and voting. great idea, I thought. On its competitor, the two guys were asking callers to give them movies that are popular but that stink. It wasn't even sports movies, but just movies. You really can't think of anything sports-related to talk about? I think the All-Star break just gives some of these guys an excuse to go to the "pop culture" well because, well, everybody can talk about that, right? Everybody thinks he knows enough about "pop culture" to start an argument at the barbershop, go on the radio, or write a blog--

Oh. Well, you get my drift.

On the radio: Sweet Seduction is worthy of trivial factoid generation

When the family sits down for a meal, we'll often put on one of the Music Choice digital channels to get some tunes for our listening pleasure. The other day, I was feeding my little one while the eighties music station played in the background.

Quick confession: Much as I love my son, I don't always stare at his baby-food-plastered mug the entire time I'm shoveling it towards him. I like glancing over at the tube and seeing the little factoids Music Choice runs on the screen as sort of a screen saver while the song plays.

I didn't remember the 1989 song "Hooked on You" by Sweet Sensation, nor do I remember much about Sweet Sensation except that there were about 10 similarly named bands around that time they everyone mixed up, so I wanted to learn something by watching the Music Choice parade of trivia.

When the song began, a note at the top said the band formed in the Bronx. A not-so-clear picture of an undetermined female--perhaps a member of the group--dominated the screen.

Then there was a note about the advent of recorded music in general.

Then I saw something about how the Top 40 was created.

Then it was a tidbit about the cassette tape.

As the song went on, so did the factoids, but they were all generic ones, with nothing specific to Sweet Sensation. Maybe I missed something while ducking pear/pineapple spittle from my son, but there was a clear lack of info about the act. Is this band that obscure, that faceless, that it merits such an approach? No trivia at ALL for these gals?

I engaged my research assistant, The Internet, to dig up some information on my own so that I could make this post and drop some knowledge on all the Music Choice watchers who are scratching their heads wondering what the deal is with the artists behind such hits as...uh, "Hooked on You." Given the band name, the song title, and the album title, "Take It While It's Hot," I know what you're thinking: pretentious art rock.

Well, according to Wikipedia, they were a Puerto Rican freestyle/dance music trio, they experienced several membership changes, and their career lasted from about 1986 to 1991. That album spawned 5 singles. "Hooked On You" peaked at 23 on the Billboard Hot Singles chart.

See, that wasn't so hard, Music Choice. There are tidbits for this group! There are tidbits for everyone! Just do a little work next time.

Brooks on Books: "All My Best Friends" (1989) by George Burns

I'm on a George Burns kick these days, what with Antenna TV running two episodes of "Burns and Allen" each day. I've also been checking out the guy on various DVDs, and I even read this book a few weeks ago. It's not a straight memoir, and nor doesn't he talk a lot about his long personal and professional relationship with Gracie Allen (he covered that in another book), but rather a sort of personal journey through the entertainment business. Burns' informal history of showbiz centers on his own experiences and those of his friends, plus the many stories he heard, collected, or just made up over the years. It's a funny, often insightful book.

I have to mention the "collaborator" of this volume, though, co-author David Fisher. Burns himself jokes about how impressive his own literary output is considering his lack of education, but he doesn't really mention Fisher till the acknowledgements. The book is written as a long, informal chat from Burns to the reader, complete with references to what the reader must be thinking or mock reactions to laughs or lack thereof. But Fisher must have had a strong part in the book. After all, as I read "All My Best Friends" and took in the frequent self-referential jokes, the running gags, and the casual style, I thought of Ed McMahon's "When Television Was Young," another entertaining informal showbiz history, one I wrote about, a book co-written by...David Fisher!

Yeah, there's a lot of shtick in "All My Best Friends," but it's good stuff. You read about vaudeville, radio, television, and a little about movies, plus the lifestyles of comedians of the era. For example, Burns devotes sections to money, death, love, and other topics, and he weaves those into an account of his own career and the various media in which he starred.

Though it's a memoir, the title is apt because Burns spends most pages talking about his friends and maybe a few enemies. Reading this book in 2011 gives you more exposure to Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor, and Georgie Jessel than you'd expect to get...well, just about anywhere in 2011. Even in 1989, that must have seemed quaint, but I welcomed the opportunity to read about those lesser-known giants of bygone days.

Of course Burns' dear friend Jack Benny comes up early and often, and the affection is evident. Other luminaries who are talked about frequently include Groucho Marx, Jimmy Durante, Ed Wynn, and even the likes of Fannie Brice and Sophie Tucker. The book is driven by the many anecdotes, and if Burns slyly admits that many of them may not be true, he still creates a vivid picture of show business and its top personalities.

The book isn't a gossipfest, but Burns is pretty candid. One guy he clearly dislikes is Frank Fay, an unpleasant man who, Burns reminds us, smacked around Barbara Stanwyck among other disreputable deeds. He has fond memories of Groucho, but he describes the difficulty of dealing with his prickly personality (and he also has a great running joke about a line Groucho used on him over and over, almost to the point of driving Burns crazy). Other themes like Jolson's ego and Jessel's womanizing are general enough to come off as relatively harmless, especially so many years after the fact.

I loved "All My Best Friends," but some readers might be annoyed by the constant jokes and the gimmicks like pretending within the text to do impersonations. If a reader is annoyed by classic showbiz shtick, then that reader shouldn't read a showbiz book by George Burns! I think Burns fans and lovers of the industry will get a big kick out of this one, and the personal detail and anecdotes ensure that even the most hardcore pop culture historian should learn a few things.

On the Radio: Sam Sham and the Pharoahs

I was listening to the Solid Gold Oldies Music Choice digital TV channel the other day when a song by Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs came on. OK, some of you might be tempted to say "the" song by that band came on, and, yes, it was "Wooly Bully." But the group did have other hits, you know. It's just that not many of them get played on Solid Gold Oldies.

I was playing with my kids, but I was keeping an eye on the screen for the fun facts that pop up about the artists whose songs are played on the Music Choice channels when I saw a note that Sam the Sham's solo album was released in 1970.

Wait a minute. Sam the Sham had a solo album?

Nothing against the Pharoahs--and maybe I'm displaying a massive ignorance of the dynamics of the band--but were they such a strong force of negativity that Sam the Sham, wanting to try something different, had to get so fed up as to make an actual solo album? Couldn't he have just said, "OK, guys, we're gonna do a few non-novelty tracks this time out, all right?"

Brooks on Books: They Call Me Baba Booey by Gary Dell'Abate with Chad Millman

Dell'Abate, the beleaguered longtime producer of Howard Stern's radio program also known as "Baba Booey," has a pretty interesting life history outside of the show. It's a good thing, too, because his autobiography is surprisingly short on show-related details. It's mostly...well, the story of his life. That's to be expected, of course, but one could hardly fault a fan for wishing for more info about what he does NOW and has been doing for decades, serving as a key behind-the-scenes force and on-air talent on one of the most controversial media products in history.

I personally enjoyed reading about Baba Booey's often-chaotic childhood, coping with a mother who battled mental illness, but I can picture a lot of Stern fans feeling let down by this particular book. It's not that it's a bad read--though I think it may have been rushed together, credited "co-author" Chad Millman is a capable writer who has put together a solid, smooth narrative--you can't help but wonder where all the Stern show stuff is. Millman smartly intersperses chapters about Stern-related topics Baba Booey throughout what is otherwise a straightforward chronological account of Dell'Abate's life. But while stories such as how the nickname "Baba Booey" was born are a lot of fun, there's a lot missing. Gary refers to his colleagues as family, but we don't hear an awful lot about them beyond surface-type glimpses that don't reveal all that much.

Furthermore, I realize how important music was to Baba Booey's life and he does a good job of stressing its role in his life journey, so I don't blame the guy for sprinkling lists like "Top Ten Desert Island Albums" throughout the book. Hey, it's indulgent, but so what? It's HIS book! But why don't we get a list of, say, "Top Ten Best Guests" of the radio show? Or the worst? There is so little insight into what actually makes the show go that I wonder if this is a deliberate attempt to save stuff for a second book.

But don't get me wrong. This is a good read. Dell'Abate comes off as a decent, likable guy, and it is interesting learning how he climbed the ladder in radio and eventually landed a dream job, the one he still has and probably will as long as Howard decides to stay on the air. But if you're not interested in reading about Gary the man as opposed to Baba Booey the character, you will want to skim or borrow this book rather than buying it.

On the radio: The Power of Music

On Friday, I was headed into work in not so great a mood--a bit of a funk, if you will. But when I flipped radio stations and caught Journey's "Stone in Love," BAM! Instant mood elevator. How can anyone feel down after hearing that all-time classic? That song always takes me back to the early eighties, playing whiffleball in the circle in our little cul-de-sac while the neighbor's teenage niece cranked the "Escape" LP at high volume with the windows down.

Those are good memories--not that "Stone in Love" needs that kind of association to make an impact.

So I was in a bad mood, I heard the song, and I was no longer in a bad mood. That is the power of music--indeed, the power of radio.

When Journey ended and a song by Motley Crue or someone like that came on, I changed the station and decided to seek out some Christmas music.

It's at this point, I heard Elton John's "Step into Christmas," a song I loathe.

I got so worked up at receiving my first annual exposure to this tune that I was right back into a bad mood by the time I got into work.

That's the power of music, too, I guess.

On the Radio: Sammy Hagar goes "Over the Top"

I know, I know, when does Sammy Hagar ever NOT go over the top, right? But today I refer to "Winner Takes It All," his classic theme song to the Sly Stallone movie "Over the Top." I got way too excited when I heard this the other day in, of all places, a grocery store.

You see, one of the best places to rediscover cheesy eighties rock songs is in your local supermarket. I find that Muzak is a thing of the past in most of these places. Now that the 1980s are, you know, old and stuff, pretty much anything from the decade counts as soft rock, or at least rock inoffensive enough to not disturb shoppers while they're picking a jar of marinara sauce.

I think I was in the soup aisle when I realized what was playing. It was all I could do to keep from singing along, especially since I was shopping alone and would only embarrass myself (unless you count all of humanity).

You may remember that "Over the Top" is perhaps THE definitive arm wrestling movie, and, boy, does Hagar capture the grandeur, the intensity, and the sheer adrenaline of the sport. As I strutted towards the front, I was so pumped I didn't even feel my customary annoyance at the lack of manned checkout lines. I did, however, feel like going down to the express line and challenging the cashier to a quick arm wrestling bout to let me go through there. But that wasn't about my dislike of self-checkout; it was just the spirit of Hagar running through my veins (and since his spirit is usually about 20% tequila, I probably shouldn't have driven home right away, now that I think about it).

Oh, yeah, I was on an emotional high, but I had no outlet for my sudden competitive urge. As Groucho Marx said in "The Cocoanuts," "I'll wrestle anybody in the crowd for $5.00." I don't know if that directly relates to this story, but it's hilarious when he says it, and I want to quote him.

I made it out of the store with my groceries, my self-respect, and my right arm, but even now, several days later, I'm still a little amped. I apologize for not having a slam-bang finish to this post, one that involves a championship, an inspirational comeback, and maybe a Kenny Loggins tune over the end credits, but I'm going to make it up to you by sharing the lyrics to the chorus of "Winner Takes It All" so you can get some of the vibe for yourself.

You may not be one of the dozens of Americans in a professional or recreational arm wrestling league, but if you need to, I don't know, hoist a car or something today, this song could get the juices going.

(Reprinted without permission but with confidence that Sammy Hagar is a pretty cool guy and wouldn't mind sharing)

Winner takes it all
Loser takes a fall
Fight to the beginning of the end
Winner takes it all
Till he breaks the fall
In time he'll make it over the top

On the Radio: All Summer Long Redux

The other day I was in between CDs and flipping around the radio to and from work. In that short span of driving time, I heard Kid Rock's "All Summer Long" not once, not twice, but 3 different times. I'm not going to go into what I feel about the song again, but come on, 3 times in one day?

As if that stat weren't bad enough, the song played on 3 different stations. One is more or less a straight rock station, another an adult contemporary, and the third a pop-rock/top 40 without all but the poppiest hip hop kind of deal. 3 times on 3 different stations in one day!

Hearing this song once is an irritant, hearing it twice is a nuisance, and hearing it thrice is a harbinger of doom. See, it's not even May yet, and already this "summer anthem" is playing again.

Come to think, though, maybe it never really left. Is it possible that Kid Rock's big hit, the unofficial song of the summer of 2008, lingered around long enough to become the song of the summer of 2009?
I want to believe that America is capable of better, but I worry. Yes, it's April, but it's supposed to get up to 90 degrees around here today, and I'm afraid "All Summer Long" already has an important beachhead on the radio. There's always a chance some dumb rap song will come along and take over this summer, but I'm looking to the rock world to unseat the Kid. I'm looking at you, U2! Your album may have peaked, but there has to be a big summer single on there somewhere!
Don't leave us with Kid Rock all summer long.

On the Radio: A forgotten gem?

I grow increasingly disappointed each week with the True Oldies Channel's slow change from a heavy concentration on 1950s and 1960s music towards something that features a lot more classic rock staples. Oh, there are still the Dion hits and the Motown faves, but there's a lot more Eagles and Fleetwood Mac and that sort of thing now.

Still, I was excited to be listening to the radio during "drive time," when I'm normally working, and hear a "forgotten gem" segment. What would it be? The feature got a big build-up, complete with an ad/intro from Ronnie Mervis from the Mervis Importers commercials so ubiquitous in the DC area.

Then the jock took the microphone and continued the build, setting up the song with some info. It didn't take me long to realize this song would be neither forgotten nor much of a gem. I have no real problem with The James Gang's "Walk Away," but how can we forget it when radio never stops playing it?

I really should not have been surprised the segment turned out like that, but the fact is, during the morning/early afternoon hours, you DO hear some legitimate radio rarities. I thought I was in for a treat, but this bogus "forgotten gem" segment is another indication of the incredible shrinking playlist of all terrestrial radio,

On the Radio: Kings of Leon "Sex on Fire"

This single from kick-ass rockers Kings of Leon is a great one. It features all the elements that make the band so much fun: The off-kilter but compelling vocals, the captivating modern blend of alternative/Southern rock styles, and the passionate sense of urgency that makes the tune just sound like it means something.

Sparse as it is, that's about all I have to say about the song itself. What concerns me is that I have heard this song about a dozen times on one particular radio station lately. Now, I'm happy that DC101 has it in rotation. Kings of Leon is huge in England and other countries but not nearly where it deserves to be here, so any kind of exposure they get is appreciated. But those dozen or so times I heard the song lately occurred in the span of a dozen or so times tuning in the station.

In other words, according to my unscientific survey, "Sex on Fire" is on all the damn time on DC101. I turn the station when I hear it now because I don't want to get sick of this great song.

Mind you, I'm not talking about leaving the station on all day and hearing the song in rotation a few times a day. I'm talking about flipping the dial now and then to see what's on and encountering this song every day that I listen to the radio. It's not even exclusively at the same time. Usually I listen to the radio on my way to work, but one time I was getting my daughter from day care a few hours after my normal radio zone, and I heard it AGAIN.

It's just so tough to listen to commercial radio these days, and DC101 in particular is aggravating. Most songs on the playlist at a given time are ones that were alternative-ish but mainstream hits when I was in college. I don't even like all of them. Then when it adds a new tune, the station plays it to death.

It's a good song, though. If you haven't heard it yet, just go to DC101 and wait about 10 minutes.

On the Radio: Genesis--but only certain Genesis

I like to check in with Baltimore's 102.7 JACK-FM every now and then because it purports to play "everything." That's not so, of course, but it does offer a lot of variety and a lot of pop songs I don't hear anywhere else.

This past week, though, the variety hasn't been as varied. For some reason, I am hearing a LOT of Genesis on there lately. The strange thing is, it's only Genesis from a certain time frame. I'm talking post-Peter-Gabriel but pre-Invisible-Touch here. I heard 3 or 4 different songs from this era last week.

How did this happen? Did some new program director come in and say, "Hey, you know what we need more of on here? GENESIS"?

Then perhaps someone responded, "Oh, yeah, we can put 'Throwing It All Away' back in the rotation, maybe 'No Son of Mine'..."

Only she was met with a curt dismissal by the P.D.: "No way, we're not playing that crap. That was their sellout period."

"Oh, so you want some of the old Peter Gabriel stuff, or maybe Steve Hackett? I don't know they had a lot of radio hits, but we can do 'Lamb Lies Down on Broadway' or--"

"NO! Damn it, none of that stuff. As far as this station is concerned, the genesis of Genesis was ABACAB! And don't try slipping in any 'Invisible Touch' stuff, because I know that album beginning to end. We don't need to play that anymore!"

Because, see, that's the weird thing: I didn't even hear the two arguably most enduring hits from that post-Gabriel, post-Hackett, pre-beer commercials era: "Misunderstanding" and "Turn It On Again." Those are on the "Duke," album which was the predecessor of "Abacab," so this window is even narrower when you really think about it.

Then again, it's quite possible I'm the only one thinking about it.

On the Radio: Bread "Everything I Own" and "If"

Who are the sensitive soft-rockers of today? The Fray? Keane? Coldplay?

Well, the Super Seventies Superstar Band known as Bread makes all of those bands look like Motorhead.

I don't really have much to say about Bread as a group or "Everything I Own" as a song, but today, just two days after my last Bread experience, I heard "If," and, folks, let me tell you, nothing stokes the romantic fires like listening to that song with your wife in the car. At least, I think it was a romantic reaction when she responded with convulsive laughter as I tried to warble the high notes in that song, then the higher ones, then the highest at the end.

I wonder if any radio DJ anywhere at any time ever introduced one of their records with a big round of snappy patter. You know, something like this, delivered in an obnoxious "radio guy" voice:

It's the witching hour on YOUR rock station, WHICH means it's PARTY TIME, and I just have one question for you: Are you hungry for some rock and roll? Well, let me satisfy that hunger, daddy, with a big, old helping of BREAD!

And then we go right into "If." To me, that would be the best song introduction of all time.

On the Radio: 5 songs I DON'T want to hear again on True Oldies

Some months ago, I saw a change for the better on the local radio dial as Smooth Jazz exited its home at 105.9 and Scott Shannon's syndicated True Oldies Channel service entered. Now, I know many radio lovers hate canned services like this one, and I can't blame them, but this kind of music left the area several years ago when Big 100 switched to Classic Rock, and I'm glad to hear it back. Plus, True Oldies, while imperfect, is much better and richer in material than the Big 100 oldies.

The True Oldies Channel does fun things like theme weekends, forgotten oldies that really could have been forgotten by people who have seen a movie in the last 20 years, and even--GASP--actual music from the 1950s every now and then. Oh, you still get a lot of the same overplayed oldies we've heard for decades, but I think those songs deserve a slot on the radio, and better they're heard over and over again than some of the newer stuff I hear over and over again.
Hey, speaking of "Over and Over Again," I heard that Dave Clark Five gem recently on True Oldies and was quite glad all over.

OK, now here come the complaints: There's way too much disco and dinosaur rock. I still think "oldies" should be 50s, 60s, maybe some 70s, but since there is so much 70s rock elsewhere on the radio, I don't need it on the True Oldies Channel, and I turn the dial in frustration whenever I hear "Taking Care of Business." And I LIKE a lot of dinosaur rock. I just don't need it here.

Yet I sort of understand it's appearance there. It seems most of that stuff is in drive time, and maybe they're chasing a slightly younger demo then. When Shannon himself is heard on the air, you have a better chance of hearing rarer stuff and older stuff. But they have to play the 70s hits, too, I suppose, and I'll accept that the Me Decade is considered "oldies" now.

But there are some tunes that should never appear in this format. Most of these I am going to list are songs I only heard once or twice; perhaps they were experimental spins for test purposes. Whatever the case may be, I don't want to hear them again:

1) "You Got It" by Roy Orbison: I can almost see the rationale here. It's a popular song by an oldies artist, and it sounds reminiscent enough of earlier work to not embarrass anybody. But it came out in 1989 and was played into the ground then. Granted, it was in part a celebration of the life of the legendary singer, who died months before the album and single appeared, but it's 20 years later now. Leave this one to the soft rock stations.

2) "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys: Good Lord, no. The very existence of this song is enough to make me call for a blanket rule forbidding all modern songs by newer artists. I had one of the best times in my life on my honeymoon in Aruba, but the whole experience was nearly ruined by a bar band's rendition of this terrible song soiling the night air as I walked on the beach. It was a mere days before I escaped the island without hearing "Kokomo." I should be able to feel safer when listening to True Oldies.

3) "Bette Davis Eyes" by Kim Carnes: 1981, folks. 1981. I am not ready to concede that the 80s are legit ground for oldies radio. This song doesn't even sound oldies. Again, leave this one to Adult Contemporary/Light Rock/80s/Hit Mix formats.

4) "Bille Jean" by Michael Jackson: Hearing this one threw me. The only Jacko I want to hear on this station is the one backed by 4 of his brothers. Well, maybe "Ben" is acceptable, but not "Billie Jean."

5) "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins: AAARGH! Why don't we just play the whole "Footloose" and "Top Gun" soundtracks while we're at it? "Billie Jean" is bad enough, but at least it was a great song in its time. "Footloose" was...not. I think I need another decade or two to forget it.

On the radio: New AC/DC sounds a lot like...the old AC?DC

So have you heard AC/DC's latest single, "Rock and Roll Train"?

Yes, you have. No, trust me, even if you haven't heard it, you have. Assuming you've been around for the last 20 years, you've heard this song over and over again on classic rock radio, commercials, stadium loudspeakers...

What I'm saying here, folks, with all the subtlety of "Highway to Hell," is that "Rock and Roll Train" sounds an awful lot like an awful lot of the band's back catalogue. I'm not saying this is a bad thing. I am interested, though, by the positive commercial and critical reaction to both the song in particular and the new album (Wal-Mart exclusive "Black Ice") in general.

AC/DC earns praise for "returning to form" and "going back to basics" with this new set. I won't dispute the familiarity of the music, but since when did AC/DC go away? I thought that ever since "Thunderstruck," this group has pretty much been cranking out what its fans want every few years or so with little variation. Yet now this is heralded as some kind of comeback.

The whole thing also intrigues me because I wonder why some bands are "allowed" to do basically the same thing over and over again, while some are castigated as soon as a single album sounds too much like its predecessor. Are there different levels of expectations for different artists? Are they perceived a certain way once they achieve a certain level of longevity?

Again, I'm not complaining about AC/DC; I just don't quite get it. But I'd sure rather come across "Rock and Roll Train" on the radio than something off the guy's country album or Brian Johnson doing a collection of standards.

On the Radio: Season's Repeatings

I was in a conditional mood for some Christmas music on my way home from work the other night--that is, if something cool was on the radio, something I hadn't heard for a while, I'd listen to it. Hey, I understand that repetition and tradition are part of the whole holiday routine. I have about 4 albums in my December rotation every year: The "Charlie Brown Christmas" soundtrack, the Xmas albums from Phil Spector and the Chipmunks (separate ones; I don't think they've worked together yet), and in recent years the Los Straitjackets disc onto which my friend Dann turned me.

That last sentence was awkward. Sometimes you really should just end with a preposition.

Anyway, I like hearing the same songs, but since so many places play the same songs, I don't need to listen to them on the local Christmas station when I have the ability to hear something else. So I don't often listen to 97.1 FM. My wife puts it on all the time this season, and I get my fill there of the same few dozen tunes they deliver.

But the other night, I turned it there on a whim and heard Nat King Cole singing the "Christmas Song," an undeniable classic. Classic, yes, but not exactly a rarity. I hadn't loaded my Xmas CDs yet, so I decided to check out the Baltimore-area soft rocker, 101.9. This LITE-FM station doesn't come in as clearly, but it has a reputation for offering a larger playlist. Maybe I'd get lucky and find something a little more adventurous, I figured.

So I pushed a button or two, tuned in the more adventurous station, and heard...yep, you guessed it, Nat King Cole. And he wasn't singing "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer," either.

I love that song, but come on!