Five Song Friday: Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Episode #119: Flag Shaggers, Mushy Tummies and Fake Snuff Songs
Imagine a time long ago and a me who is not yet old.
It is January 1989.
A 100-mile road trip with friends to see Living Colour.
I have a full head of hair and, for some reason, an aqua blue bandana.
I am 18 years old and ready to rock my goofy ass off.
We meet lead singer Corey Glover outside and get a picture with him (on film).
We say that we loved him in Platoon.
During the show I am elbows on stage, screaming lyrics and taking the force of the crush of the crowd.
When Glover stage dives, I keep his body aloft.
I am strong enough to help strangers carry an adult man in a day-glo shorty wetsuit over our heads.
It is winter outside, but in the venue, we are drenched in sweat and pumped full of adrenaline.
By the time “Cult of Personality” kicks in, all of us are floating and the room crackles with lightning and sparks and ripples of thunder that rattle my inside parts and vibrate my spine to a frequency at which I believe I can see God.
Then we drive home.
Of course, the lightning and floating didn’t actually happen.
That’s just what seeing the right band at the right time can FEEL like.
So when I heard that the SAME band was performing for free at the beach this week, I told my wife that we were going no matter what.
And by “told,” I mean “asked politely that if we didn’t have plans (and if she was interested), could we please take our bikes to the boardwalk to watch some live music.”
Premium tickets were available for a closer view, but I forgot the bike lock, so we stood farther back and freeloaded on a grassy knoll with some palm trees.
It was a Tuesday night and the crowd was thin. It didn’t get much thicker.
I was confused why people weren’t packed in and eager to lose their minds.
A stream of pedestrians ambled along the boardwalk, oblivious to the moment. They enjoyed each other’s company. They ate ice cream cones.
I wanted to shout, “Hey dummies! Look over here! You’re going to miss it!”
These guys played the first Lollapalooza. They opened for the Rolling Stones. They absolutely killed it on Arsenio Hall.
I did my best to ignore the people sitting and looking AT THEIR PHONES during a classic hip-hop medley featuring a bass player who ACTUALLY played with The Sugarhill Gang and Grandmaster Flash.
I tried to block out the chatty clusters of sunburnt tourists who cackled and chugged hard seltzers like this was just another white people flip-flop and tater tots beach party and not a goddamn golden opportunity to witness #42 on Rolling Stone’s list of the 250 Greatest Guitarists of ALL TIME.
The drummer performed a solo with looped poetry from Maya Angelou.
And Glover even gifted us a cover of “Nothing Compares 2 U.”
They brought the lightning and thunder, but it seemed like nobody was interested in floating or seeing God.
Maybe if I remembered our bike lock, I could have taken my spot up front and rallied the crowd. Maybe I could have channeled the energy and united the crowd.
Maybe I could have been the spark that ignited the rock and roll inferno.
I was excited at the idea of rekindling some of my THEN in my NOW.
But Living Colour aren’t the same band and I’m not the same me.
It’s been 35 years since that giddy Thursday in January. And more than a few things have happened in the last three and a half decades to all of us.
Granted, as musicians, they sounded better than ever and rocked properly given the circumstances. And I still knew most of the lyrics.
But THEN is not NOW.
2024 is not 1989.
53 is not 18.
And today, if a stocky, full-grown 60-year-old man with knee-length gray dreads asked me to catch him when he jumped off stage, we would both end up in the hospital.
So I’ve decided to quit trying to relive the magic of live music past.
I will keep the memories separate from the moments.
It was what it was. It is what is.
And never the twain shall meet.
Five Song Friday #119
“God’s Country” - Lambrini Girls
I don’t think these ladies are fans of the United Kingdom. They pretty much come out and say that Great Britain ain’t so great. They’ve had enough of the king and racist uncles and flag shaggers. Frankly, the political situation in the UK sounds like a mess. I’m so glad things here in America are completely normal and not weird at all.
“Instafuzz” - Ultrasonic GrandPrix, Little Barrie, Shawn Lee
Do you like crunchy guitar? Do you like sassy samples? Do you need a break from lyrics for two minutes and forty-four seconds? Do you like organs and wah-wah pedals and music that sounds like the theme song for a Rockford Files reboot starring Jack Black? If you answered “no” to any of the previuos questions, please skip this track.
“Fire” - Waxahatchee
If you’re having a bad day, this song will fix everything. I promise. If it doesn’t work right away, give it a few dozen more spins until your tummy feels all mushy and your eyes get wet.
“Mo Se B’ola tan” - Dele Sosimi
I don’t know what any of these words mean, but that doesn’t matter. Sosimi is a former keyboard player for Fela Kuti and Femi Kuti. He knows his way around a song, so it’s best to just sit back and enjoy the ride.
“Girl On Girl” - Pimps of Joytime, Sophia Urista
Fun Fact: the scream that ends this song is actually the sound of the lead singer getting murdered! No. No. No. I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I said that. That’s not funny at all. Nobody was harmed during the making of this song. I was just nervous and uncomfortable about trying to write something funny and non-awkward about a song called “Girl On Girl,” so instead, I went to a very dark place. Please accept my sincere apologies. It won’t happen again.
“Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.”
― Mel Brooks (Born June 28, 1926)
Thanks for reading!
Sincerely,
DJ CrankyPete